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Announcing the debut album from one of London’s most electrifying acts, New Regency Orchestra. An 18-piece Afro-Cuban big band, inspired by the musical melting pot of NYC in the 1950s, but with the punch and power of a whole host of London’s best Latin and jazz musicians. Blowing new life into these compositions, the album is a reimagining of some of the finest music from that golden era. From early 1950s René Hernandez and Tito Puente, through to the 1970s salsa of Rafael Labasta and Orlando Marin, produced and performed with fresh fire.

NRO is the brainchild of its artistic director, and the man behind Total Refreshment Centre and Church of Sound, Lex Blondin. Through a long-held passion for jazz, Lex discovered the explosive Afro-Cuban rhythms of mid-1940s NYC via the godfather of Afro-Cuban jazz, Mario Bauzá. A time when two musical worlds collided in a fusion of creativity and energy, jazz luminaries like Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker joining forces with Cuban greats like Machito and Chano Pozo. This vibrant sound was music to dance to and found a home at The New York Palladium, a formative space of freedom and expression that was key to the scene’s development.

Although dance-focussed in their makeup, those early recordings are not often heard in modern club environments and Lex dreamt of retelling their story with a contemporary dynamism. A slice of serendipity followed, as a slot at a new festival opened up and Lex jumped at the chance to make this idea a reality, an 18-piece big band breathing new life into these beloved songs.

Enlisting the expertise of some of the capital’s finest talent, Lex and co-captain Andy Wood, of Como No fame, put together a world-class line-up of talent. Bringing in Eliane Correa as musical director and bandleader, a fluid and interchanging 18-piece band was formed.

The album itself is a hand-picked selection of timeless Afro-Cuban jazz classics, reimagined with NRO’s unbridled energy. It contains ten incredible instrumental tracks including 'Pregon' with its anthemic horn stabs and the addictive head nod bounce of 'Mambo Rama', alongside two scorching vocal numbers in 'Papa Boco' and 'Labasta Llego'. Coupling a heavyweight rhythm section with a wall of horns, they provide a fresh spin on songs from Tito Puente and Chico O'Farrill, René Hernandez through to Rafael Labasta.

“Some of the tunes like Tito Puente’s ‘Mambo Rama’ and ‘Scarlet Mambo’ might sound like they went to a gym as extra drums and bass synth were added to them whilst the tune ‘Sahib & Tito’ is a mix of Tito’s ‘Mambo Buda’ and Sahib Shihab’s ‘Nus’. Our intention is to be both respectful to the innovators and inventors of this incredible music and to pay our dues, but also to add something special from London where the city’s new jazz scene connects with its Latin American musicians and the musical influences around us.”

This pure collective joy, shared experience and music you can’t help but move to.

RAWAX welcomes back Gregor Tresher!
We re very happy to present you the second release by Gregor under his Sniper Mode moniker on our Motor City Edition.
Homecoming EP is an outstanding Electro record which comes around with vocals by Exzakt aka Larry McCormick on the main track.
Big support by Dave Clarke!

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

Because of their mix of hellified gangster shit and progressive compositions, I once jokingly called Clipping "Deathrow Tull." Well, it's not a joke anymore. While Clipping's last few projects have been record-long concepts like classic prog rock, their cyberpunk-infused new album Dead Channel Sky is mixtape-like, a carefully curated collection in which every track is a love letter to a possible present. It sounds crisp and classic at the same time. When something strikes us as retrospective and futuristic at the same time, it's a reminder of how slipshod our present moment truly is. Juxtaposing high-tech, corporate command-and-control systems (the "cyber") with the lo-fi, D.I.Y. underground (the "punk"), cyberpunk proper starts in 1982 and ends in 1999, from Blade Runner to The Matrix. Concurrently, hip-hop matured, went through its Golden Era, then melted into further forms: it went from from Fab 5 Freddy to Public Enemy to Missy Elliott. While other genres flirted with it, hip-hop was fickle and fey. Rap and rock birthed mutant offspring maligned by most, and hip-hop's relations with electronica rarely fared any better. What if someone explicitly merged hip-hop and cyberpunk - those twin suns of the '80s and '90s - into one set and sound? After all, both movements are the result of hacking the haunted leftovers of a war-torn culture that's long since moved on. On Dead Channel Sky, Clipping texture-map the twin histories of hip-hop and cyberpunk onto an alternate present where Rammellzee and Bambaataa are the superheroes of old; where Cybotron and Mantronix are the reigning legends; where Egyptian Lover and Freestyle are debated endlessly, and Ultramag and Public Enemy are the undeniable forefathers; where the lost movements of 1980s and the 1990s are still happening: rave, trip-hop, hip-house, acid house, drum & bass, big beat-the detritus of a different timeline, the survivors of armed audio warfare. Clipping are no strangers to sci-fi: two of their records were nominated for Hugo Awards (one of science fiction's top literary prizes), and a novella spun-off from their music was nominated for a third. On Dead Channel Sky, Clipping's co-conspirators include everyone from the guitarist Nels Cline, to their labelmates Cartel Madras, rapper/actor Tia Nomore, and wordsmith Aesop Rock. Diggs is known for intricate lyrics and rapid-fire rapping, and the tracks that Snipes and Hutson build in the background are no less complex. All of the above serves to give us a glimpse of an adjacent possible present, where hip-hop and cyberpunk are one culture. Binary stars are often perceived as one object when viewed with the naked eye. Like those twin sun systems, it'll take some special equipment and some discerning attention to pull the stars apart on this record. As Diggs barks on the fire-starting "Change the Channel": Everything is very important!

The album’s title deftly gestures to the sheer vastness of astronomical dimensions, while simultaneously capturing the musical breadth within, where the eight planets are imagined as the eight notes of an octave. The work draws inspiration not only from earlier compositions —most notably Gustav Holst’s The Planets—but also from the rich astronomical and cultural contexts surrounding these celestial bodies. Here, the focus transcends direct citation of melodic motifs, instead embracing an intriguing conceptual approach on a meta level, unfolding in a series of vividly contrasting soundscapes. These contrasts shape a sweeping sonic journey, one that fully embraces the album format with both arms, inviting the listener to venture into realms both strange and wondrous, feeling the immensity of the interstellar space that lies between them. Contrast, after all, is the brushstroke that enriches our world.

Embarking on an auditory voyage, "Astral Guide" establishes the sonic framework that propels us into the boundless expanses of the cosmos. Its ethereal tones evoke the vastness of space, crafting a mood ripe for exploration within the realms of sci-fi. The subsequent tracks unfold like constellations, weaving a rich tapestry of sound that seamlessly marries cinematic soundscapes with pulsating, club-oriented rhythms. This album invites listeners to traverse its immersive landscapes, whether nestled in the comfort of home or dancing under the starlit sky, each note a guide through the transcendent experience of a nocturnal journey.

"Solar Flares" draws its inspiration from the awe-inspiring expanse of solar phenomena, capturing the majestic power of the sun as it reaches into the cosmos. This track resonates with the idea that energy, while vital, can also be a force of destruction when unleashed with overwhelming intensity. The composition beautifully mirrors the sun’s duality, where brilliance and devastation coexist, inviting listeners to reflect on the delicate balance between creation and annihilation. Through its rich textures and dynamic shifts, "Solar Flares" serves as both a homage to the celestial and a poignant reminder of nature's formidable power.

"Mercury – The Winged Messenger" embodies a meticulously crafted soundscape where artistry meets astronomy. The tempo of 173.6 BPM, derived from precise astronomical data, propels the composition into a vibrant realm that resonates with cosmic energy. Synthwave sound design intertwines seamlessly with the fluid rhythms of Drum’n’Bass, imbuing the piece with an uplifting dynamism that evokes the ethereal grace of Mercury itself. In this sonic exploration, listeners are invited to ascend on wings of sound, navigating the celestial tapestry of the universe with each invigorating beat.

"Venus, The Bringer of Peace" strikes a decidedly cozy note, presenting a poignant contrast to the more tempestuous themes often found in cosmic narratives. This composition evokes a nostalgic vision of an optimistic era, one in which humanity transcended borders and embraced the infinite possibilities of space exploration, where no destination felt too distant. The dense, languid atmosphere envelops the listener, creating a tangible sense of serenity that unfolds gradually, allowing for a meditative journey through sound. Each note serves as an invitation to linger in this tranquil embrace, reflecting on the harmonious potential of our collective aspirations and the beauty of connection in a vast universe.

The central theme of „Gaia, The Bringer of Life“ —originally not part of the planetary cycle— is the profound enabler of life on Earth. The arrangement delicately mirrors the slow, tentative unfolding of this potential, marked by an initially sparse orchestration that gradually builds in momentum. This progression crescendos, embodying the explosive dynamism of the Cambrian burst of life, ultimately culminating in a euphoric fanfare—a triumphant, celebratory flourish echoing life’s victorious emergence.

"Blue Moon" unfolds as a contemplative reverie on the tranquil clarity of a night sky, now seldom glimpsed in its natural purity, unclouded by the relentless haze of urban light. The listener is drawn into the vast embrace of the star-strewn firmament, a journey that sways between euphoric awe at nature’s sublime beauty and a profound melancholy for its fragile and imperiled state. Musically, this duality finds expression in the delicate interplay of modal mixtures, while an ever-shifting triplet groove, poised at the intersection of Outrun and melodic house, lends a pulse that is both nostalgic and forward-looking—echoing the beauty and transience of a world on the brink.

Rather than replicating the original composition of „Mars, The Bringer of War“, this interpretation seeks to evoke its profound, foreboding atmosphere. Cyberpunk emerges here as an ideal genre, channeling the dark, relentless march synonymous with Mars, the ancient god of war. The piece reverberates with intensity, as distorted vocalizations rise, embodying the anguish and visceral torment that shadow war’s violent crescendo. This auditory descent into conflict captures the relentless pulse of warfare, where sound itself becomes an embodiment of suffering and fury.

Majestically, "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" emerges on the celestial stage, sweeping away the somber tones with its radiant vigor. Drawing inspiration from the triumphant strains of the original, and borrowing a melodic motif in the refrain, the piece expresses joy and buoyancy through a shift to a major key and the lilting sway of a danceable 12/8 meter. Spirited and exuberant, it leaps boldly from major to minor and back again, playfully shifting time signatures to capture a mood of unbridled festivity and jollity.

Here, a more conciliatory concept is chosen than in the original inspiration. „Saturn“ aligns with the number six, being the sixth planet from the Sun and bearing the iconic hexagonal pattern at its northern pole. What, then, could be more fitting than to render this piece in a 6/8 time signature? The arrangement unfolds with a multifaceted richness, mirroring the countless stones and ice fragments that form the foundations of Saturn’s majestic rings.

„Uranus“ adopts the theme of a light-footed, dancing instrumentation, giving the impression of perpetual motion, never quite settling. This musical choice harmonizes with the planet’s own orbit, as it spins with breathtaking velocity, teetering and swaying, seemingly unable to attain rest or stability.

The chill and vastness of the cosmos find expression in „Neptune, The Mystic“. At its core, an electronic soundscape envelops a classical arrangement, its unreachability intensified by an ethereal, otherworldly choir. Hovering at the outermost boundaries of the solar system, where warmth is but a distant memory, the composition lingers in a slow, contemplative tempo, evoking a realm where space for speculation stretches wide and silence reigns supreme.

Though Pluto may have lost its planetary status, and its companion Charon never achieved one, this shift in classification subtly aligns with the cosmic scale invoked here—one that mirrors the musical tradition of an eight-note sequence. Fittingly, the album closes with „Kuiper Belt“, a composition emblematic of the turbulence and vitality of countless smaller

celestial bodies that, though diminutive, find their rightful place within the vast architecture of the solar system.

They say nature is the greatest composer, shaping the universe with a symphony of chaos and order, beauty and danger. It is this duality that fuels the artistic vision of Edictum—a producer who, armed with a doctorate in chemistry, delves as deeply into the mysteries of molecules as he does into the depths of sound. In the tension between the vastness of the cosmos and the microscopic processes that dictate life’s rhythm, Edictum creates sonic landscapes that dissolve the boundaries between science and art.

His music is a story of contrasts—a sonic tale where the raw forces of nature clash with the intricate structures of human culture. Opposites intertwine to form a harmonious whole: the primal rhythms of the earth meet the celestial melodies of the cosmos, the rigid laws of physics blend with the boundless freedom of art. Edictum explores these polarities with meticulous devotion, each composition an expedition into uncharted soundscapes—a quest to give voice to the unfathomable.

With over 20 years immersed in the realms of electronic music, Edictum has honed a keen sense for rhythm and movement. His driving beats compel both body and mind into a hypnotic flow. Yet beyond the pulse of dance lies a complex framework of conceptual thought. Today, his creative focus revolves around holistic album projects—self-contained worlds with overarching narratives that embrace contrast and complexity. Each track stands alone as a fragment of the whole, but together, they weave a cohesive tapestry, much like the chapters of a novel that guide the listener on an emotional and sonic journey.

Edictum’s distinctive musical signature has earned him international recognition. With over 150 releases, many on prestigious platforms like the iconic *NewRetroWave* label, and collaborations with artists such as Jan Johnston, Azumi Inoue, Powernerd, and Turbo Knight, he has solidified his place in the global electronic music scene. His latest work, *A Cosmic Scale*, marks his seventh vinyl album and is released under his own label, *Echoes of Expanse*. The label’s name is no coincidence—it captures the essence of his art: echoes of infinity, the vibrations of the universe distilled into a singular sonic experience that carries the listener ever further into the boundless expanse of sound and space.

Restoring balance to our series of earthly compilations, one that has brought to you an array of different artists, all with the collective goal of sharing the joy of exploring musical wonders with no borders, we have Earthly Tapes 04.

In keeping with the series so far, nature and electronica intertwine in unison to share a space as befitting to hedonistic dancefloor groovers as it is to homebound explorations. With this release, we have 7 wonderful artists expressing their creativity across 6 carefully curated tracks, with native roots connected to 5 different countries across South America and Europe.

2 years in the making and chopping and changing as it’s passed through the motions, what has remained is the concept behind it. On this edition, we're shining a light on a small portion of female producers within a music scene that we’re fortunate to be a part of.

Each artist that has carefully created a track for this compilation, has also contributed their beautiful crafts within the Organica/Folkloric/Downtempo scene and we’re truly blessed to be able to share them with you. The countdown to the release of this next chapter finds us coinciding fittingly with International Women’s Day.

Early 1980, UB40 scored their first success with Food For Thought', reaching high in the charts. By the time they released their first album they were already so successful that they had signed off on unemployment benefit, leading to the stamped Signing Off featured on form 40, for the sleeve of their debut album. The first dub album ever to reach the album charts in the U.K. included One In Ten' and Don't Slow Down'.

In 1983 the band put on a new project, boasting ten cover versions of Jamaican hits and, contrary to low expectations, it became a huge hit and the band's first number one album. Tracks included are Cherry Oh Baby' and Please Don't Make Me Cry' and Red Red Wine'. The latter was a rather poppy song and became the band's biggest selling single ever, entailing their definitive worldwide break through.

There have been lots of collaborations through the years and most of these became huge hit songs. Together with Chrissie Hynde UB40 recorded two singles: I Got You Babe' (1985) and Breakfast In Bed' (1988). They teamed up with Afrika Bambaataa for Reckless' (1988) and with Robert Palmer the band released I'll Be Your Baby Tonight' (1990), just to name a few.
UB40 - COLLECTED has captured all the different phases of the band in one complete album, from classic hits combined with the new!

Sound the alarm, we’re back! PAGER15 is our first VA since 2020, and it’s a special one— dropping soon with four tracks, four unique voices, and enough groove to shake your neighbor’s picture frames off the wall!

First up, our homeboy Phil Evans, aka "the coach” aka daddy cool, with Chocolate Funk. Imagine warm pads, crispy drums, and a bassline so addictive it should come with a warning. Add his signature offbeat stabs and a swing smoother than the creamy drizzle on kimchi fries, and you’ve got a groove that lingers long after the needle lifts.

Fresh blood incoming! Wavelength Infinity marks the Pager debut of the Parisians Aline Umber & Maxime dB, and they’re making waves. Deep, undulating basslines meet shimmering pads in a hypnotic blend of rhythm and texture. It’s a groove-roller that pulls you in faster than a free drink at the bar.

Flip it over, and California Sunshine Boy Rocky delivers debut number two with Aquatic Maneuvers. Flowing pads and bubbling percussion weave together a lush, evolving soundscape. Organic and intricate, it shifts like underwater currents, with each layer wrapping around you like the warm embrace of an after-hours vibe you never want to end!

And then there’s the Gude-Launebär himself—Markus Sommer, aka Frau Hommer, answering the eternal question: Does it Funk? Spoiler: absolutely. Rolling basslines, sharp percussion, and cheeky melodic twists come together. This is Hommer energy at its peak!

You know the drill: Either you grab it while it’s hot, or you’ll be left watching it spin on someone else’s deck. PAGER15 is calling—don’t let it go to voicemail!

We are overjoyed to present this album, another one from our bucket list and another one to set the record straight and illuminate the history of another much loved, but until now mysterious group. The Invaders made some of our all time favorite records - back in 2013 we issued five 45’s of their brilliant, sometimes plaintive, sometimes hopeful and sweet early roots music. Their sound touches folk and gospel in lovely subtle ways that elevate them above the many harmony groups of the early roots reggae era. Since the start of DKR we were striving to learn more about the group - and despite being able to license a portion of their output for reissue, and get anecdotes about them here and there, we were never able to connect with the group themselves. But we never gave up asking about them, and finally in 2024 we were able to link with Delroy “Bongo Pat” Forde, the surviving member of the group. Unfortunately other Invader, Lloyd “Paddy” Campbell passed on several years back. To hear and learn their full story, you need to check out this album and read the liner notes. This 13 song LP corrals much of their output - some of the tracks we previously issued but have been long out of press, some more never before reissued, and some great related solo works by the duo. And to cap it all off we’ve added two new voicings on a couple of our favorite vintage rhythms, by Invader Bongo Pat himself, live in 2024, singing two Invaders songs written way back in the early 1970s but never recorded back then. All together this is a long overdue document of one of the 1970’s finest groups and one dear to our heart.

"The only career-spanning best-of compilation available on vinyl for the first time for pop sensations A-ha. The band turns 40 this year with a documentary currently available on streaming platforms and their biggest song “Take On Me” back on the Spotify Top 100 streaming. Now seems like a great time to get this back to market - with two new tracks included!
These tracks are currently available digitally and previously on CD"

Pacific Rhythm is elated to announce the forthcoming release of “Exiles”, a deeply life-affirming and introspective four-tracker from one of electronic musicʼs most prolific duos, Frank & Tony. This EP also marks the first release from the pair outside of their own imprint Scissor & Thread. Back in 2021 they approached us with the intention of contributing something that felt like a natural part of our catalog and itʼs safe to say they arrived right at home.

“Exiles” further explores the dubby, subtle energy theyʼve crafted since the project began in 2012 and refines it down to the pure essence of genre. Itʼs a deeply rewarding listen and we believe Itʼs a wonderful addition to the on-going soundscape weʼve been building for the last decade with Pacific Rhythm.

Forest Jams continues the journey into the great beyond with Mori Ra’s Mantra–an EP composed of four edits created for any inquisitive earthling and forest wanderer.

Mori Ra is a DJ based in Osaka, Japan his sets are a witches brew composed of balearic, cosmic, and electronic disco ingredients. He has released on other labels such as Rotating Souls, Macadam Mambo, Berceuse Heroique, MM Discos and more. In Mantra, Mori Ra acts as a mysterious wanderer who has stumbled upon the doors of our minds in the middle of the night. When we answer the door he is bearing gifts of creative glory and all we need to do is provide shelter in return. We invite him in so that he can rest, recharge, and continue his journey.

During his visit in our minds Mori Ra shares “Mantra” the secrets of the universe disguised as parables packaged neatly into four tracks. Catharsis begins the journey and immediately throws us into a sound that feels like we are driving a spaceship in Gran Turismo 37, the spaceship simulator. Now that we have successfully crossed the plane and have entered the digital unknown, Seinn O! becomes the story of communication. Seinn O! gave the smoke leaving my mouth color and the shamanistic chants placed me in an atmospheric state with the ability to cross over and communicate in the digital space. Then comes 孫行者 the Grandson Traveler, which embodies the story of the simulation. Imagine the sound of a bustling dystopian city in the matrix–neon signs, dancing billboards, talking vending machines, radioactive wildlife, and overgrown foliage leaking in from the jungle the city is carved into. Mori Ra seems to have melded all of those sounds together to create the soundtrack of the big city where everyone is lost. Finally, before leaving our minds Mori Ra offers the final parable, あの星 That Star. Which becomes the story of realization, the journey back home from the exploration of the mind. That Star brought me into a cave and I could see the opening at the end of it, all I had to do was walk towards it. However, I couldn’t walk. I could only galumph forward, while bouncing up and down to the beat. My arms slivered and guided my body forward as the vocals came in. As I moved forward the opening, the clearing, the destination remained the same distance away. The endless tunnel of the mind gave me a feeling of comfort because I did not want this journey to end.

The EP ends and we will never know who visited our minds that night, but we know we loved the journey. Mori Ra is the steward of our journey through consciousness, and the vessel is “Mantra”.

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
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It happened this summer while we were spending our family breaks in a rural house located in the town of "Cuacos de Yuste" in the region of La Vera, Extremadura (Spain). An idyllic setting in nature that we recommend everyone visit... One night, upon returning home after enjoying the magnificent cuisine of the area, we found a hard drive with a note at the entrance of the house. The message was clear and concise, FOLLOW THE SAME STEPS... Suddenly my body shook and I quickly understood that the ALIEN RAVE contact had occurred again. In line with his successful first vinyl, the alien has given us two only vinyl songs, Misconception and the sublime Deep Space, accompanied by Bilocation and No Gods. If you liked the first Alien Rave vinyl, you can't miss this Electrobreak gem. Will there be future contacts? We are sure that yes..

We’re teaming up with ELUCID and Fat Possum for a limited edition of 300 copies of a Rush Hour black ice coloured edition.

E L U C I D, one half of the illustrious duo Armand Hammer, is here with the full-length follow-up to 'I Told Bessie'. Further experiments in the sonic, expanding on the 'live' side of music paired with the embracing of chaos. Something you haven't heard, or not so for a very long time. E L U C I D is here to reveal the bleakness of reality.



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''There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment; the time is always now.''
James Baldwin

A raw, crackling urgency runs through rapper-producer ELUCID’s new album REVELATOR like an underground power line. There is no space here for sepia-toned reminiscences or indulgent self-mythologizing. Intellectual rabbit holes have been filled in with concrete and rebar ; there is nowhere to hide and no off ramp from the audio Autobahn that ELUCID has fashioned—a renegade Robert Moses with gold fronts, bulldozing the homes of the powerful and the complicit. REVELATOR brims with the energy of now, with a refusal to look away. Carpe diem in a murder one mask.

Born in Jamaica, Queens, ELUCID has been on the cutting edge of New York’s underground scene since the mid-2000s. From the beginning, he has defied both convention and expectation. He ran with Okayplayer darlings Tanya Morgan, but his own music eschewed their throwback charm for glitchy noise experiments and bass-swamped culture jamming. His 2016 debut studio project Save Yourself (re-released in a deluxe edition last year) announced him in earnest. But in recent years, his Armand Hammer releases with partner-in-crime billy woods have received significant attention and acclaim. Serving as a followup to his last solo album—2022’s comparatively balmy I Told Bessie—ELUCID hoped to “re-distinguish” himself with REVELATOR, setting himself apart amidst the increasing attention around the music he and his friends are making together.

For ELUCID, this meant setting bold new challenges for himself. One of these was diving further into live instrumentation than ever before—”getting my Quincy Jones on,” as he puts it. The testing ground for this approach was Armand Hammer’s most recent project, 2023’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips’ Möbius strip soundscapes, warmed with instrumental flourishes and skin-shedding beat progressions. With REVELATOR, though, ELUCID strove to create an atmosphere of chaos, embracing experimental electronics and atonal sample bursts. He worked on much of the album with co-producer Jon Nellen, who comes from a background in avant-garde and Indian classical music. “I wanted to get as freaky as I could at this moment. I wanted people to hear things, maybe for the first time, or in a way they haven’t for a long while,” the rapper explains.

ELUCID arrived at the studio with a collection of noise sources: non-referential samples, glitches and noises. Together he, Nellen, and others created forms out of them and, as ELUCID recalls, “just started playing drums with it.” Their fried, distorted sound was directly inspired by Miles Davis at his most uncompromising—specifically, the tone-clustering funk track “Rated X” from his 1974 double LP Get Up With It. At times, the pairing of rap with avant-fusion sounds also brings Emergency! from The Tony Williams Lifetime to mind, perhaps in an alternate timeline where the late drummer was listening to Ice Cube’s AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted.

“The World is Dog,” REVELATOR’s lead single, functions as the album’s aesthetic thesis statement. Like the Davis track, the textures are punishing, the tonality is in free-fall, and the driving breakbeat of a groove cuts in and out unceremoniously. Avant-jazz bassist Luke Stewart, who appears throughout the record, holds the whole thing together just long enough for ELUCID to tightwalk over the beat. This tension is exactly where REVELATOR sets itself apart; in a time of drumless loops, and safe soul samples, this is a high-wire act with no safety net. Similarly, the song announces the themes of the album within just a few phrases, evoking the way societies accept and adjust to new levels of debasement and brutality while suffocating under the weight of history: “Can’t clock the kill, all a mystery/Forced past will eating everyone eventually/The world is dog.”

Many of the songs on REVELATOR grapple obliquely with dissolution and disenfranchisement in America and across the world—the grim realities of our domestic sociopolitical climate and our involvement in foreign conflicts. “Much of my artistic and political sensibility comes from the Black arts movement here in New York,” ELUCID explains. “Recognizing the interconnected global struggles against oppression, artists and thinkers created works and actions in solidarity with freedom movements in South Africa and Palestine.” ELUCID cites intellectuals like Amiri Baraka, Kwame Nkrumah, Audre Lorde, Sonia Sanchez, and Nikki Giovanni among his heroes. (One track on the album is specifically inspired by Lorde’s work, “SKP,” citing the scholar’s paper “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic As Power.”) Songs like REVELATOR’s insistent closer “ZIGZAGZIG,” find ELUCID applying up-to-the-minute messaging, making explicit reference to the conflict in Gaza: “Feed a war machine…from river to sea, in lieu of peace.”

Despite ELUCID’s preference for cacophonous system overload here, the rapper also provides moments of respite. Recorded at The Alchemist’s Los Angeles studio, the laid-back, wheezing “INSTANT TRANSFER” is a collaboration with billy woods, which crystallizes their shared sense of creative determination. “With much momentum behind us and even more on the horizon, I knew a purpose, and that every step was ordered to that purpose,” ELUCID said of the experience. Meanwhile, the jittery “HUSHPUPPIES” is a playful anomaly on the track list, providing a snapshot of ELUCID watching his grandparents in the kitchen while preparing for Friday night fish fry dinners.

“Love still rules over on this side,” ELUCID says. ”I’m raising a family. We are making meaning and finding joy in the midst of all the fucked up-ness of everything around us because the alternative is cowardice and slow death. We remain rooted. We celebrate our people and our wins. Struggle is necessary.”

“IKEBANA” is one of ELUCID’s strongest statements of purpose on the record, blending the record’s heaviest themes with its most hopeful sentiments. supported by a shoutalong refrain and an urgent prog-funk groove. Breaking away from images of dissolution and crumbling societal systems that populate REVELATOR, ELUCID notes that the only way to navigate life’s bleakest landscapes is to cling to love and believe in those around you—to look forward toward something better that may or may not be possible. For the rapper, one of the album’s most trenchant lines comes during a centerpiece of a beat drop: “Being alive/I must look up.”

“The lyric ‘being alive I must look up’ is important especially in the context of this album. Much of the album imagery is harsh and reflects the actual doom some of us experience. But still I/we exist,” ELUCID explains.

Every artist is, in one way or another, the product of their time, bound by life’s leaden gravity to operate within the space of that which is already known. But there are some who are able to shake free of these ties, to shape the culture as it unfolds, to make the present their own.
Revelation, as a concept, points to the scales falling from people’s eyes—something that has been hiding in plain sight becoming clear. “The revelator relates to things that have been talked about, things that have been forecasted,” ELUCID adds. “And now they’re really here, and everyone sees it. And there’s no escaping.” REVELATOR plays out with the unmitigated power of those storms, laying waste to any genre conventions in pursuit of a certain physicality. Here, ELUCID develops a wholly distinctive musical language to explore our fractured modernity.

REVELATOR's packaging was designed by longtime Armand Hammer / Backwoodz art director, Alexander Richter.

A sonic portal to a parallel universe where neon-soaked dreamscapes transform the stark realities of a post-pandemic world. Music for a forgotten future, where echoes of the 80s cast long, enigmatic shadows through a rich tapestry of emotion that charts a journey from isolation and fear towards healing and hope. This is the journey of Season One and Season Two, the debut companion albums for the solo project of Italian composer Battaglia, both out this fall on Four Flies Records.

In 2020, as the world retreated onto itself due to the COVID-19 pandemic, Battaglia entered the recording studio. Driven by a desire for experimentation, she decided to focus on the classic synths that have made history to create a sonic and emotional alchemy that reimagines the 80s to resonate with our current experiences and sensibilities.

Drawing inspiration from the cinematic magic of iconic early-80s films, and especially the haunting soundtracks of Tangerine Dream and John Carpenter, she crafted a soundscape that goes beyond nostalgia to capture the spirit of a generation navigating uncertain times.

Season One and Season Two explore the complexities of a world grappling with lethal pandemics, climate catastrophes, and nuclear disasters through themes such as longing, fear, and hope, set against a scenario that blends elements of dystopian and post-apocalyptic science fiction and, at times, horror.

Season One delves deeper into the darker aspects of this new reality, evoking a sense of unease and uncertainty, occasionally interspersed with soothing flashes of light. In Season Two, while darkness still lingers, the sonic landscape is infused with a sense of optimism and determination, offering glimpses of a possible salvation.

With Battaglia's signature blend of dark wave, synth-pop, suspenseful electronica, and cinematic vibes, Season One and Season Two create a sonic world that is at once hauntingly familiar and utterly captivating -- the perfect soundtrack, one is tempted to say, for the countless sci-fi/horror-fantasy series that have been flooding streaming platforms in the last decade.

The covers of both albums were designed by Eric Adrian Lee, who conceived them as two sides of the same image, two versions of a world in crisis but whose ruins contain the potential for rebirth.

Battaglia's Season One and Season Two will be available on black vinyl LP starting from October 25th. Digital versions of both albums will also be released on the same date, featuring five bonus tracks (two on Season One and three on Season Two).

A sense of destiny hangs over Sentir Que No Sabes, Mabe Fratti’s fourth solo-credited album released in a five year span. Her work has always possessed a finely tuned sense of drama capable of expressing a range of emotional states, and across this new album, she conveys the struggle to process various relationships or situations–and the actions that come next. Sentir Que No Sabes is urgent and clear, poppy, generous and approachable, while showcasing a considerable emotional hinterland. It is also, as Fratti is quick to mention, “groovy.”

Written and recorded with her partner, multi-instrumentalist, and co-composer Héctor Tosta (I.La Católica, Titanic), Sentir Que No Sabes is the result of an intense, detail-oriented process. Fueled by a new confidence gained in their collaborative project, Titanic, and its critically acclaimed 2023 LP, Vidrio, the two hunkered down in the familiarity of their studio (aka Tinho Studios) to bash out the initial sonic coordinates of her new record. “We talked and talked, and discussed ways of playing and recording, until things became inevitable,” Fratti explains. “We recorded a bunch of demos at our home studio and that meant we had a lot of time to re-edit and experiment. We really dug in. We were super focused on detail.” Tosta also took up the controls as producer and arranger-in-chief for all additional instruments. The album was later completed at Willem Twee Studios in Den Bosch in the Netherlands, and Pedro y el Lobo Studios and Soy Sauce Studios, in Mexico City.

For the final studio recordings, the pair were joined by drummer Gibran Andrade and trumpetist Jacob Wick to fill out and expand on Tosta’s percussion and brass arrangements. This small group of friends were able to work quickly and openly, and without fear: a testament to the exhaustive groundwork put in at Tinho Studios. This can be heard in three short, intermediary tracks that also manage to be the most aggressive on the record: “Kitana” (a scratch-laden instrumental that acts as a strange prelude for the last track, “Angel nuevo”) and a pair of two-minute instrumental interludes, “Elastica” I and II. None are throwaway mood pieces; rather they act as emotional cue cards, and hint at the way Fratti and Tosta created the overall atmosphere of Sentir Que No Sabes.

A strong sense of rhythm irrigates the sound from the jump, as heard on the glorious opening track, “Kravitz.” Here, the brilliant plucked cello line acts as a bassline and props up the steady thump of the kick drum. The cello’s growl serves as a conduit for a set of slightly paranoid lyrics that tell us “Quizás haya oídos en el techo” (“maybe there are ears in the ceiling”), while the song also introduces another staple of the record: the clever brass stabs, whistles, parps, and other interjections that paint a canvas of traffic in a city. It’s a postmodern, widescreen sound that for some might recall The Blue Nile’s Hats.

Sentir Que No Sabes is a record full to the brim with a modern pop sensibility, invoked by the sort of magpie spirit that ensnares anything it can find, repositioning sounds for the here and now. The keys and melody on the melancholy “Pantalla azul” (“Blue screen error”) transport us back to the glossy mid-1980s. “Oídos” (“Ears”) is a beautiful slice of contemporary, hybrid pop, in which Fratti’s vocal lines delicately spin themselves around the lean structures erected by the brass and drums, and the descending “plink” of a set of piano chords. Then we have a gloriously strong ending with the swell of “Angel nuevo” (“New angel”), another cinematic track full of gentle, instrument-rich swells and eddies that manages to be almost endless in its range–and yet intensely personal, as Fratti’s voice is close, almost whispering in your ear. A much needed lullaby for our fractious times.

The lyrics, for their part, have a stop-start quality to them, and hint at the small, incremental emotional taxes we pay through just living our lives. They circle around the music like birds waiting to swoop. There is something of the spiritual in all of Fratti’s work that expresses itself in a form of yearning: she looks to new horizons while personal dramas find themselves internalized, contextualized, and then dealt with through metaphor. Here, she was keen to mention Tosta’s constant encouragement in her finding a path to best sing or phrase her words to impart their maximum effect. “Hector was super inquisitive about my lyrics and asked me questions about what I meant, which sometimes is something you don't wonder so much about in isolation,” Fratti explains. “Besides, he is a great poet, and you can see that in what he did on the Titanic record. This made me go deeper into my lyric writing and definitely transformed it into something that I feel super happy about now.”

Take “Enfrente” (“In Front”), a track that initially comes across as a languid, glossy number, with plucked cello strings standing in for a bass line and brittle synth parts. Soon we catch on to a brilliant minor chord switch, which mirrors the fear and doubt expressed in the lyrics as someone “trembles up to the podium” in a “search for meaning.” There’s also the startling introduction of a vocoder in “Quieras o no” (“Whether you want it or not”); it comes precisely at the point Fratti sings “Quieras o no es un desastre” (“Whether you want it or not, it's a disaster”). Moments like these leave room for interpretation and, over time, create a strong bond between the listener and the record.

In fact, across Sentir Que No Sabes, each phrase–whether instrumental or vocal–becomes at some level emblematic of acts and moods that impart deep emotional significance. We see this best on “Intento fallido” (“Failed attempt”), which could be the score to feeling trapped in self-doubt, only to suddenly be sprung free by the song’s gloriously upbeat ending. On “Márgen del índice” (“Index margin”), the quicksilver switch between initial disharmony and a beautiful melody is breathtaking, all augmented by evocative arrangements, textured production, and the slightly playful, gnomic lyrics. The track’s emotional ecosystem allows another brilliant ending, which uses the simple repeated phrase, “Cómo lo va a ver?” (“How are you going to see it?”).

So what to make of Sentir Que No Sabes? High gloss Pastoralism? The sound of a city-bound, post-post modern soulscape? No matter the emotions evoked, it's the work of an artist coming into their own, and creating a benchmark record.

Exploration, collaboration and curiosity define the rhythm at the beating heart of Mehmet Aslan’s exemplary compositions. The Swiss-born producer of Turkish heritage has already forged a singular path through production, DJing and full-band performances, navigating the more esoteric corners of Berlin’s club culture without sacrificing his musical heritage or innate creativity.

A conceptual new LP ‘Auguri’ follows on from 2021’s gnomic, ornate ‘The Sun Is Parallel’, which saw Aslan musically associate with the likes of Valentina Magaletti and Niño De Elche. ‘Auguri’ also has its foundations in collaboration, born out of a musical lab at Lyon’s annual
Nuits Sonores, the forward-thinking festival with whom Aslan has maintained a lengthy creative relationship.

The resulting audio-visual performance, ‘Bird Signals For Earthly Survival’ introduced Aslan, to the Greek filmmaker Stratis Vogiatzis. Drawing on the philosophy of Donna Haraway and envisioning new ways of being, of living on earth, Aslan and Vogiatzis crane their necks to the sky to witness flocks of birds performing spectacular movements in unison. Fluid and ancient, their organic waltz provides inspiration for Aslan’s extension of the project, spanning sonic shades of electro, ambient and modern folk psychedelia.

On the coastline of Vogiatzis’s home country of Greece, as in many places across the world, climate change threatens to effect the ancient migration pattern of millions of birds, just as their fellow beings on terra firma become increasingly entangled in a man-made disaster of their own creation. In unison, ‘Auguri’ is adorned by artwork from designer Xavi Bou. Known for his ‘ornithographies’, this striking visual captures avian life not only as a force, but a wry observer.

“We need to transform our connections with other living beings to protect the Earth and live together harmoniously”, reflects Aslan. “Personally, this project has made me more sensitive to this issue. I wanted to give back in return for the inspiration I've received."

Perhaps upending expectations of a more traditional ‘ambient’ album, Aslan commits some of his finest compositional work and understated songwriting to this urgent imperative, creating original music that nonetheless, has nature flowing through it. ‘Critters’ presents a spectral sound collage on which Aslan himself speaks from the texts composed at the residency, conjuring visions of “the birds flying… shape of the future”. Meanwhile, the undulating, psychedelic ‘Pigeon Blinks’ takes inspiration from more domestic scenes, charting the unexpected roosting and hatching of an egg on a kitchen window, while ‘Auguri’ gives the album it’s title in connecting to a higher plain, demonstrating Aslan’s ability to lure melody and catharsis from looping hypnosis.

Opener ‘Spectra’ provides a forceful, almost industrial breakbeat that establishes the exigency of the album as well as its sense of wonder, while ‘Euphoria’ reaches the potency of its promise slowly, with Aslan’s modular melodies meeting the flourishing percussion of guest player and multi-instrumentalist, POPP. Finally, ‘Aura’ delivers a cinematic conclusion, mixing an elegiac organ motif, haunting guitar chords and the prophetic sense of a scorched earth. Here, with patience and soaring production, Aslan once more makes the abstract and the unthinkable somehow tangible, mixing in sampled birdsong.

Accordingly, ‘Auguri’ is being released in accordance with EarthPercent, the music industry’s climate foundation, co-founded by Brian Eno. A portion of the album’s publishing will be credited as part of ‘The Earth As Your Co-Writer’ initiative, allowing artists to directly credit The Earth in their new compositions. Here, streaming and publishing from Aslan’s recorded sounds are automatically paid back to a number of vital initiatives worldwide.

Leaning into some of the most vital questions and anxieties of our time, ‘Auguri’ is not a project without a sense of hope. From studio to sea, Mehmet Aslan continues to look to the skies and beyond.

Balmat began our journey in 2021 with the release of Luke Sanger’s Languid Gongue. Now, three years later, we turn an important corner as the Norfolk musician rejoins us with Dew Point Harmonics, the first repeat appearance on the label. Sanger’s new album feels like a natural extension of his inaugural record for Balmat: It’s a bewitching collection of esoteric synth sketches that slips unpredictably between consonant repetition, poignant melodies, and gnarled bursts of noise that catch in the ear like burrs in hiking socks.

That natural metaphor is perhaps not accidental. Despite having been composed on Sanger’s diverse array of hardware and self-written software, many of the tracks were first conceived while Sanger was hiking in a particularly wild and isolated section of the Norfolk coast. The field recording that opens the album, on “6am Beach Walk,” was taken on one of his many early-morning walks there, in which he and his dog might go for miles without seeing another soul. The album’s title was inspired by the overnight condensation covering the long marram grass in the dunes, glistening in the early light (and drenching everything coming in contact with it) before evaporating in the morning sun. Indeed, the concept of dew point—the temperature at which water vapor condenses into a liquid—feels like the perfect metaphor for Sanger’s music, in which foggy ambience is distilled into glistening quicksilver orbs, transient spheres of perfection eventually absorbed back into the atmosphere.

A shapeshifting collection of richly detailed and deeply expressive electronic miniatures, Dew Point Harmonics is both a testament to the mysteries of transformation and an invitation to get lost in the wilderness of your own imagination.