Search:ov pain

Audionaut sound adventurer Neil Stringfellow (aka Audio Obscura) makes a welcome return to Subexotic with his many-splendoured mixed media project Acid Field Recordings In Dub. Following years of avid field recording, Neil explains how it came about through a series of epiphanies: "It sort of started after I did a field recording introduction weekend workshop with the legend that is Chris Watson (the BBC wildlife team and ex-Cabaret Voltaire), just in terms of it being very inspirational and meeting like minded people. I've been sound recording for about 12 years now and have a good archive of sounds, and simply enjoy just listening and capturing the world. Since then over the years I've learned to really listen to the everyday soundscapes and as such I no longer walk down the street listening to a personal stereo anymore, the world can often be more exciting than music. A few memories of listening stick out which really helped form this album. I was walking up a hill in Norwich and a street cleaner was coming down pushing his cart, the broom attached to the cart but one end was bouncing up and down in the exact way a snare drum in a Dub reggae record might sound with the dub echo effect.. for a few seconds it was amazing and I stopped and stood still and just savoured the moment but of course did not have a microphone with me. Another time recording the dawn chorus in Lowestoft the chirping birds sounded intense coming from different trees and walking between the trees seemed to make the classic 303 acid squelch sound. part of this is in the middle section of the Babyloniacid track. Another time I was recording in a forest after a storm sitting under thick trees trying to keep the mics dry and the wind blowing the tops of the trees was like a swooshing synth line. I always liked the moments when the soundscapes felt like music and over time had a desire to marry music and field sounds together. Things really came together though when in summer 2022 I had a minor operation and was resting in bed after the operation, high on painkillers feeling quite spaced out. It was in the middle of a heat wave and the nurses had opened the ward windows, it was evening and I could see pink clouds but the sunset was out of view. I'd been listening to the Eno / Harmonia album and after that ended, I put on some Burial. I just lay there watching the clouds and the title Acid Field Recordings In Dub just came into my head... I could hear how the concept should be: made with field recordings, manipulating them and creating ambient soundscapes... dubby beats fractured in places and snatches of the acid 303. This is more or less what I wrote down that day and a few weeks later I started to create it... the process came easy and at first, I thought I'd need to spend some time making new extra field recordings but, to be honest, I has such an archive I pulled most of the sounds from that." Music, electronics & field recording by Neil Stringfellow. Design & mastering by Dan Seville. Test siren on 'Through Nuclear Skies' recorded by Marc Weidenbaum. Melodica on 'Hollowlands' played by Simon McCorry

NAKID presents the first album in years from Max Loderbauer (Sun Electric) and Tobias Freund’s cult Non Standard Institute. Delving deep into the aether with a double LP - almost an hour and a half in length - featuring ruined, vaporous and engrossing ambient variations on a theme.

Planing axes between iridescent new age ambient, sublime folk and avant-classical, to miasmic drone and plangent shoegaze; ‘A Day or Two’ charts the Non Standard Institute’s first actions in 6 years and serves as a compelling reminder of their intuitive work in abundance. Expanding and contracting their sound across 18 parts, they arc from heaving, oddly-tuned drones to smoggy, surreal soundscapes, bringing a wealth of fine-tuned instincts to the table. With Max Loderbauer’s 35+ years as Berlin ambient pioneer with Sun Electric, jams with Villalobos, and roles in Vladislav Delay Quintet and the Moritz von Oswald Trio, he’s matched by Freund’s 40 years of deep engineering expertise embedded in the experimental industrial and techno trenches.

The melancholy, Satie-laced piano meditations that grounded 2018's '5863' are gone, and the human touch that's been present since their very first collaborations is placed under the microscope, enhanced by their use of the Haken Continuum Fingerboard, a gestural synth that was developed to open up new modes of playing. Loderbauer's experience with the piano helps him make the most of the instrument's touch-sensitive 3D surface, while Freund uses two multi-channel loopers, piping the sounds through his arsenal of pedals.

The 18 tracks are billed as "unplanned atmospheres" that arc from sombre, drone-heavy material to humid, tape-saturated imaginary-island jams such as 'Listening To Cells' and 'Are You One Of Them'. On the latter, the duo work patiently, letting dusted string plucks tumble across each other while warbling pads hum below, bending like flutes. On 'Unlikely Events', anxious didgeridoo-like wails are ruptured by environmental rattles, before ominous voices lead us into a pocket of industrialised resonance. In time, the skies open up and the sounds morph into pastoral song, the drone blurring into hopeful pads almost as lucid and eloquent as AFX's 'SAW Vol. II', with sonorous synths that float over formless strings. Reflective, cinematic arrangements for flute and silvery ambient give way to diffusions of denser, resonant polychromatics and pucker up in outernational, alien ambient impulses recalling Connor Camburn jamming with dirashe folk pipes.

Bruno Berle, the young songwriter and poet originally hailing from Maceió, the capital of Brazil’s Alagoas state, crafts songs that are simple, direct, and full of tender nuance. With his first album No Reino Dos Afetos (which translates to "In the Realm of Affections” and was released in 2022), Berle firmly established himself as a unique and important voice in the burgeoning scene of new Brazilian artists making a global impact, including peers like Ana Frango Elétrico, Tim Bernardes, Bala Desejo, Sessa and more. Now back with his second album, No Reino Dos Afetos 2, he stretches that further.

Bruno Berle’s music lives between two worlds – a traditional Brazilian folk talent steeped in history, and a contemporary, dreamy electronic pop; the result is songwriting that’s genre-bending, intentional, iconoclastic and consuming, spacious and sinewy and singular, a striking reflection of its composer while leaving space for the listener to settle in. The album follows Bruno’s relocation to São Paulo, and the songs are a reflection of his past and present. A rebuke of former categorizations of his work in Brazilian music scenes, and an idea of where his music can move, unfettered.

Berle’s music is purposeful in being a true portrait of himself, and a reflection of the music, art, and fashion scenes he personally moves through. Berle aims to provide an entrypoint for Black queer joy in his music, in his storytelling, in his presence and vision as a creative. For him, it feels subversive to be playing MPB laced with dubstep and lo-fi, a sort of intentional sacrilege, capturing a dialogue of modernity in traditional music.

Berle wrote most of the arrangements and co-produced his new album, Reino Dos Afetos 2 with longtime friend and musical partner Batata Boy, who is also from Maceió; the album was recorded in Rio de Janeiro, Maceió, and São Paulo, his new home, and picks up the conversation begun in 2022 on Berle’s debut album No Reino dos Afetos. Both records are the result of a nonlinear but coherent seven-year music creation process culminating in these albums, holding hands across space and time.

“Tirolirole,” the first single from the record, was released at the end of 2023; sun-soaked rhythms and soft voice coat the song, the lilting refrain of “Tirolirole” throughout – hushed, gentle, but somehow almost tactile, a golden-hour moment unlocked in the mind. “Tirolirole” is a triumphant future classic about the temporality of a blossoming love, with Bruno’s stunning vocal soaring over melodies which ebb and flow like the waters on the Atlantic shore. Of the track, Berle explains: “Despite ‘Tirolirole’ being an expression that evokes my childhood, just like the light words about nature, the harmony, and the poetry are epic, carrying a great hope for love.”

In fact, the guiding theme of No Reino dos Afetos 2 is a relationship, unfolding in the arc of a weekend. It traverses the innocence of an early young love, how that can be formative, can stretch on to take new shapes, or shape you. The album happens at the genesis of meeting someone and falling for them, before the relationship is thrown into overdrive – set in a big city, against a backdrop of major life changes, rising energy, the sound of São Paulo.

Something transcendental emerges in “Dizer Adeus,” with an arrangement that echoes a gospel atmosphere (evangelical and Catholic environments were pivotal to Berle’s upbringing). On “É Só Você Chegar,” piano and flute gracefully intertwine, a dance, while “Quando Penso” skews sparser, the voice-and-guitar minimalism somehow cultivating an entirely different shape – somehow both cozy and melancholy, with the background sound of a rainy day. Coupled with the lo-fi aspects that shape much of the album’s personality in the vocals and the production, No Reino Dos Afetos 2 is meticulously elaborated by Berle’s sonic alchemy, like on the mid-album instrumental “Sonho,” which feels like floating. “It’s the apex. It’s when lovers are sleeping together,” Berle explains of the feeling he wanted to encapsulate in the song.

On “Love Comes Back” Berle interprets Arthur Russell, the late Iowa musician who only reached greater visibility after he died in 1992. “His way of making music is similar to mine,” Berle explains. “He sings in a more fragile way, has more of an experimental way of recording, letting ‘chance’ appear in the final work.”

Even so, Berle doesn’t want his music to be buried in sentimentality – and the purposefulness of his craft serves as a sort of north star. The production, the arrangements, his restraint and intentionality in crafting his songs feel just as vital as their emotional cores. His songwriting is amorphous, fluid, an encompassing genre-bending movement in-and-of-itself, quietly daring. The songs are often in conversation with other works – drinking in fountains as diverse as the filmmaking of Ingmar Bergman, the poetry of Walt Whitman, the rhythm of Djavan, and the painting of Maxwell Alexandre. Musically he weaves together a rich tapestry of Brazilian folk, UK 2-step garage/dub, trip hop and sun soaked west coast songwriters; something akin to the worlds of Milton Nascimento, Arthur Russell, James Blake, Feist, and Sade colliding into one. But even then No Reino Dos Afetos 2 floats separately, a romanticism driven by a simplicity and intimacy, an open-ended possibility, Berle’s singularity as an artist at the helm of the ship.

Making a bold return, genre-defying, North Carolina-bred quartet and live sensations Rainbow Kitten Surprise will unveil their first full-length album in six years, LOVE HATE MUSIC BOX, on May 10, 2024 via Elektra Entertainment / Parlophone. Produced by Daniel Tashian (Kacey Musgraves) along with Konrad Snyder (Noah Kahan) and Melo, the much-anticipated album ponders life’s ups and downs, and traces the turbulent trajectory of relationships, painted out loud in hues of pop, electronic, rock, and hip-hop. As such, it finds the musicians at their most vulnerable, vibrant, and vital.

Though their album was cut in two days over the course of 2 eight hour sessions their arrangements shine through what was a scattered recording session. "We really worked hard in the studio even though we didn't have enough time to do all the things we wanted to do with music," bassist Robb Murphy remembers. "We were pretty excited. We just had no experience with that sort of thing. We had heard things but never had any experience.

We were really babes in the woods. It was a terrific experience looking back on it. It was really a hell of a lot of fun, we loved the idea of being able to overdub even though we didn't get to do too much of that, it was still fun. That was pretty high tech in those days, being able to lay down a couple of tracks with your voice." guitarist Mike Barnes recalls.

Similar to the Bosstown sound (Orpheus, Ultimate Spinach), Tiffany Shade lean towards harmony-driven vocals that combine their clever pop sensibilities with a versatile showcase of keys, organ, and scintillescent guitars. After their album's release in '68, they had the opportunity to open for Big Brother & Holding Co., but because of poor sales (and like many Mainstream artists) the band didn't last and went their separate ways in '69.

As an organism, Blood circa Loving You Backwards, was a six piece. Tim O'Brien is the lyric writer, but the song writing and arrangement is a painstakingly collaborative process in which the band aims for democracy over swiftness.

The record also features the band's first major work with the producer Daniel Enrique Howard, whom the band recorded with at his studio in Brooklyn. Howard helped guide Blood into this new sonic territory. It is not a bedroom project, but instead fully realized, somehow sounding both intimate like Liz Harris' Grouper feels intimate and totally vast in the way that a Talk Talk record feels vast. It's in the same universe as Ought in its earlier iterations.

"The Course of the Inevitable 3: Pieces of My Pain" marks a triumphant return for rapper Lloyd Banks, as he delves deep into the intricacies of his life and experiences, unveiling raw emotions and profound wisdom. In this highly anticipated album, Banks collaborates with legendary artists such as Method Man, Cormega, 38 Spesh, Vado, Dave East, and Tony Yayo, creating a powerful narrative that resonates with listeners.



In this musical journey, Banks weaves together a compelling storyline, sharing pieces of his own pain and struggles, inviting listeners to connect with his authenticity. With Method Man's signature lyrical prowess, Cormega's poetic finesse, and the raw energy of 38 Spesh, the album boasts a stellar lineup of features that enhance its impact.



Banks' sharp lyricism and introspective storytelling shine throughout the album, exploring themes of resilience, triumph over adversity, and the complexities of life. Each track serves as a piece of his soul, revealing layers of vulnerability and strength. With the collaborative efforts of his fellow artists, "The Course of the Inevitable 3: Pieces of My Pain" delivers an immersive and powerful listening experience, solidifying Lloyd Banks' position as a master in the rap game and the one and only Punch Line King.

Celebrating a decade of hip-hop excellence with the 10th Anniversary Vinyl Reissue of Statik Selektah's groundbreaking album, Extended Play. Pressed onto high-quality vinyl and housed in a silver laminated jacket, this limited edition reissue pays homage to the timeless collaboration between the legendary producer and some of the finest wordsmiths in the game.

Extended Play showcases the essence of authentic hip-hop, seamlessly blending old-school vibes with innovative production. Featuring an all-star lineup of rap luminaries, including Action Bronson, Mac Miller, Joey Bada$$, Sean Price, Raekwon, Black Thought, Prodigy, Evidence, Termanology, Posdnous of De La Soul and Talib Kweli amongs several others, this album is a masterclass in lyrical prowess and beatsmithing finesse.

Immerse yourself in the artistry of Statik Selektah as he crafts intricate beats that serve as the canvas for the lyrical dexterity of hip-hop's finest. Each track is a testament to the genre's evolution, capturing the essence of both its roots and its future. From the gritty realism of Sean Price's verses to the introspective musings of Mac Miller, every moment on this album is a revelation.

This commemorative vinyl reissue not only offers listeners a chance to experience the album in its purest form but also provides a glimpse into the collaborative spirit that defines hip-hop culture. The album cover artwork has been meticulously restored and printed onto a silver laminated jacket. Join us in celebrating the legacy of Extended Play and the everlasting impact of Statik Selektah's musical vision!

Lloyd Banks is gearing up for the release of The Course Of The Inevitable, his first studio album in over a decade. Having previously set the stage with a few cinematic teaser trailers and the album cover, Banks has now come forward to confirm the official release date for the upcoming project, as well as the tracklist and guest appearances to be expected.

For the most part, Banks will be flying solo on COTI, with only five of the eighteen tracks including featured artists. On that front, we're looking at appearances from Roc Marci, Benny The Butcher, Styles P, Sy Ari Da Kid, and Vado. Other than that, however, the stage is largely set for the Punchline King, who will likely have much to say on his fourth studio album.

Mary Lattimore and Walt McClements are two of contemporary music"s most renowned innovators. Each has managed to expand the perception of their instrument"s capabilities. Lattimore inventive harp processing and looping has brought the instrument to a new audience. Her prolific run of celestial solo albums and evocative film scores have redefined the instrument in the modern consciousness. Her genre-agnostic collaborations include work with Kurt Vile, Steve Gunn, Jeff Zeigler, Meg Baird, and Thurston Moore. McClements, who tours as a member of Weyes Blood, is an acclaimed composer in his own right, sculpting glacial atmospherics from the accordion. The Los Angeles based duo became quick friends on overlapping tours, sharing both a drive to push the sonic possibilities of their instruments and roots in North Carolina. Mary Lattimore and Walt McClements debut collaboration Rain on the Road blossomed out of that time spent on the road together, capturing the liminal existence of touring life in deeply cinematic compositions. Recorded in the cozy setting of McClements" apartment during a rainy December in LA, Rain on the Road unfurls as a series of sonic vignettes, rolling landscapes hewn from longform improvisations for harp and accordion. Embellished with additional instrumentation such as the shimmering constellations of hand bells on "Stolen Bells" that glisten like lights on wet pavement, or the stately piano figures on "The Top of Thomas Street"; their pastoral pieces manage to paint vivid images.

Mary Lattimore and Walt McClements are two of contemporary music"s most renowned innovators. Each has managed to expand the perception of their instrument"s capabilities. Lattimore inventive harp processing and looping has brought the instrument to a new audience. Her prolific run of celestial solo albums and evocative film scores have redefined the instrument in the modern consciousness. Her genre-agnostic collaborations include work with Kurt Vile, Steve Gunn, Jeff Zeigler, Meg Baird, and Thurston Moore. McClements, who tours as a member of Weyes Blood, is an acclaimed composer in his own right, sculpting glacial atmospherics from the accordion. The Los Angeles based duo became quick friends on overlapping tours, sharing both a drive to push the sonic possibilities of their instruments and roots in North Carolina. Mary Lattimore and Walt McClements debut collaboration Rain on the Road blossomed out of that time spent on the road together, capturing the liminal existence of touring life in deeply cinematic compositions. Recorded in the cozy setting of McClements" apartment during a rainy December in LA, Rain on the Road unfurls as a series of sonic vignettes, rolling landscapes hewn from longform improvisations for harp and accordion. Embellished with additional instrumentation such as the shimmering constellations of hand bells on "Stolen Bells" that glisten like lights on wet pavement, or the stately piano figures on "The Top of Thomas Street"; their pastoral pieces manage to paint vivid images.

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

London-based four-piece Adult Jazz announce their first full-length album in a decade, So Sorry So Slow, out 26 April 2024 via Spare Thought. Alongside the announcement comes lovesick new single ‘Suffer One’ featuring Owen Pallett, a cautious excavation of self and sexuality, clambering across a gorgeously shapeshifting, filmic five-minutes.

Containing some of the band’s most abrasive but gentle, beautiful and melismatic work to date, So Sorry So Slow has many defining characteristics: romance, panic, devotion and remorse, threaded together by an intentionally laser-focused love. It’s deeply personal, bruised and candid in its expressions of tenderness, and deeply pained in its concurrent reflections of ecological regret. Across its hour-long runtime, a delicate, frenetic energy and glacial heaviness coexist, the band pitting those paces against one another. In their richly experimental timbre, dancing strings and fluttering falsettos prang against a bed of brass drones like a wounded bird.

“We started writing in 2017 and began recording in 2018,” says vocalist Harry Burgess. “We genuinely thought it might be finished in 2018! But things kept developing and, having resolutely not struck while the iron was hot, there was no real external push to rush things after that, so we just kept letting things shift and unfold until it felt right. Listening back to my voice notes it’s nice to notice that there are fragments of ideas from the whole period 2017-2023 which have shaped the record.”

Recorded in bursts at studios across London and in the band members’ flats, at Konk, on the Isle of Wight and in Sussex, So Sorry is unambiguous in its evolution. Sonically, there are sparks of the arrhythmic brightness that afforded the band’s critically acclaimed debut album Gist Is its cult adoration, for fans of Arthur Russell and Meredith Monk, but with a blossoming, melancholic darkness often overhead. Piano sprees and luscious string sections appear like low-hanging stars on a night-time drive, whilst plunging vocal distortions and humming brass loops resurrect heavy limbs in a bad dream.

“I usually have objects as kind of totems for ideas,” explains Burgess. “The album initially started out to do with performance… the totem was a head mic, one of the subtle skin-tone ones, discreet on the forehead of a West End star. A number of the first songs in their original forms were almost musical theatre piano ballads. I think that was really a device to write about my life as the ‘main character’ (pre internet-speak reframing): regrets about romance, relationships - unsustainable relationships with the self and others.”

“However, once we started writing, the ideas about unsustainable personal relationships, loving unevenly and heartbreak conflated with a more expressly ecological regret. Like contending with big feelings of loss, endings, beauty, desolation, and with how much joy the earth contains in it. Feeling so much gratitude bound up in waves of sadness. Maybe witnessing a slow-motion goodbye to all that, or its last gasps. I love the earth and the life it supports so much. I love how ecosystems fit together - even the brutal stuff. It may be basic to say, but now is the time to be laser focused on that love. I was thinking about human centrality on earth, us as the ‘main character’, the way that is served by faith and romanticism, and the subsequent disingenuous understandings of our position in the ecosystem, as only stewards somehow, rather than subjects. The totems at this point: a herald’s horn, lorry inner tubes, archaeological tools. I guess from doom, industry, history respectively.”

“Now I would say the record is about gripping. Totems being: crampons, rope, drips, desalination equipment, accruing various survival tech. I think gripping sums up both of the threads. There’s the emotionally correct clinging to the earth that is the substrate of everything we value, or the delusional clinging to our imagined dominant position. But also the practical, technological aspects of creating a sustainable relationship, of remaining here. Then I think of romance again.”

So Sorry So Slow comes out 26th April 2024 on Spare Thought, mixed by Fabian Prynn at 4AD Studios and mastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road.

Adult Jazz is Harry Burgess, Tim Slater, Steven Wells and Tom Howe.

Read any article or comment thread about the Seattle noise-rock outfit GREAT FALLS and you're likely to see descriptors like cathartic, heavy, crushing, and unhinged. Maybe even psychotic. And sure, those are all apt: For over a decade, vocalist/guitarist Demian Johnston and bassist Shane Mehling (who also played together in the early-2000s noisecore band PLAYING ENEMY and the experimental duo HEMINGWAY) have honed their sludgy, overwhelmingly intense brand of heaviness, punctuated by delectably discordant riffs, terrifyingly low, thwacking bass lines, and mesmerizingly tight percussion. In the live setting, too, they’re notorious for a stage presence that is so aggressively confrontational and menacing that Mehling once broke his own arm mid-set.

But the most striking aspect of GREAT FALLS, setting them apart from the murky sea of sludge metal and AmRep-inspired noise-rock bands, is their ability to paint a deeply, utterly human story through an all-out assault on the senses: an art the band has perfected on their fourth full-length album OBJECTS WITHOUT PAIN, out September 15 via NEUROT RECORDINGS.

The album is not only their NEUROT debut, but also the first LP featuring drummer Nickolis Parks (GAYTHEIST, BASTARD FEAST), who joined the band prior to the release of their exhilarating, cacophonous 2023 EP,FUNNY WHAT SURVIVES.

OBJECTS WITHOUT PAIN takes us on a bleak, purgative journey through a separation–a snapshot of the turmoil and indecision that occurs after the initial realization of someone's misery, and before the ultimate decision to end a decades-long partnership. From the foreboding intro riffs of “DRAGGED HOME ALIVE” to the end of the 13-minute closer “THROWN AGAINST THE WAVES,” its eight tracks explore the thoughts that come up when a person is staring down the barrel of blowing up their life: How did this happen? Is it too late for a new life? Will the kid be OK? What will make me happier: familiar torment or unknown freedom?

Razor-sharp production of the highest order from two of the masters of the early 80™s Rio de Janeiro boogie sound, Robson Jorge and Lincoln Olivetti. Both were highly acclaimed music producers of the time, starting around the mid-70™s. Over the course of his career Olivetti worked with artists including Rita Lee, Erasmo Carlos, Don Beto, Marcos Valle, Tim Maia, Gilberto Gil, Gal Costa, Sandra Sa, Painel de Controle and many more. The album takes in mid-tempo, AOR, boogie and even latin all way through the tempo™s to ultra-quick Prince style disco-funk workouts. Includes several standout tracks  ˜Aleluia™ and ™Ginga™ being our two favourites. Synths, horns, claps, drum machines, guitars, keys and vocal harmonies combine effortlessly.

The opening line of Emily Dickinson’s short poem ‘‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers’ inspired the central image of Emily Barker’s new single ‘Feathered Thing’, written while she navigated cumulative grief.

When Barker was first introduced to producer Luke Potashnick (Gabrielle Aplin, Jack Savoretti, Katie Melua) in May 2022, she brought with her a full album’s worth of songs. But after visiting Potashnick’s storied studio, The Wool Hall and hearing his ambitious production ideas, she was inspired to write one more song.

“I also needed to process some heavy news” she comments. Barker and her husband Lukas Drinkwater had been trying to start a family. Following a couple of failed IVF cycles (and other “starts that we’d lost”), they investigated adoption and had decided to relocate to Australia to be closer to Barker’s family.

“It felt like we couldn’t work out what we wanted, but we finally reached a point where we both felt at peace with not having kids,” Barker recalls. “It had been an incredibly intense time, coinciding with a house move and the pandemic.”

And then Barker found she was pregnant. “We’d done all these things to try to make it happen, and then it happened naturally (and against all biological odds). Having previously navigated losses throughout our pregnancy journey, we now had to get our heads around what having this new person in our lives might look like - emotionally and practically.”

Soon after work began on the album, Barker had a miscarriage.

“Songwriting has always been a way of processing throughout my life.” Barker reveals how the new song came quickly as she sat at her piano at home. She shared an early version with Potashnick and remembers him politely asking, “Do you mind telling me what this is about?”

“I think I’d left it too abstract, initially,” she reflects. “It was difficult to open up about the miscarriage, but Luke was very supportive and encouraged me to dig a little deeper without necessarily being specific. I revisited the lyrics, and the result is much stronger.”

“I went to the burnt-out woods/ A tourist with some damaged goods/ Remembered how the trees withstood fires before…”

“The opening line is a metaphor for knowing that I’ll get through this,” Barker clarifies. “It’s about recovery and hope, allowing yourself both the space to grieve and permission to move on”. But Barker’s optimism is never misplaced – she knows the imprint of imagined futures and lost children are carried in hearts and minds forever:

“It’s so hard to let go, wanted to know wanted to know you …”

“I think that it's important to share and normalise these stories, which are all too common, yet not openly spoken about. People hide their pain and don’t want to burden friends and family. I think behind all this anguish, there’s a deep, often untold story.”

Now that Barker is settled back in Western Australia, she’s embracing being an auntie. “I’ve got three younger siblings over here who I’m close to, and they all have kids,” she enthuses. “I look after my brother's kids, aged two and five, one morning a week.”

Recorded - along with the entirety of the new album - at The Wool Hall, ‘Feathered Thing’ begins gently, with oscillating piano and distant drums, until the arrangement gradually transforms into an instrumental dervish of vibrant strings, bass drones and cymbal crashes. Throughout, Barker’s vocals float tantalisingly like a slipstreaming feather.

Watch the video, filmed at The Wool Hall here. The Wool Hall is a studio in Beckington, Somerset, set up by Tears for Fears in the 1980s and used by artists including The Smiths, Pretenders, Joni Mitchell and many more.

Emily Barker is an award-winning singer-songwriter, best known as the writer and performer of the theme to the hugely successful BBC crime drama ‘Wallander’ starring Kenneth Branagh.

Her last album, 2020's ‘A Dark Murmuration of Words’, was produced by Greg Freeman and recorded at StudiOwz, a converted chapel in the Welsh countryside. Lyrically probing, by turns both dark and optimistic, Barker searches for meaning through the deafening clamour of fake news and algorithmically filtered conversation, delivering a timely exploration of the grand themes of our age. It garnered widespread acclaim, with Uncut calling it “…a kind of Australian equivalent of PJ Harvey’s Let England Shake”.

Barker has released music and toured as a solo artist as well as with various bands and collaborations, most notably her long association with Frank Turner, and has written for TV and film, including composing the soundtrack for Jake Gavin’s lauded debut feature ‘Hector’ starring Peter Mullan and Keith Allen.

‘Fragile as Humans’ is scheduled for release on May 3rd 2024 through Everyone Sang/Kartel Music Group. The album will also feature earlier singles: the vast, cinematic ‘Wild to be Sharing This Moment’ and the meditative, crestfallen ‘Loneliness’.

Following the force of their introductory singles 'Tabernacl' and 'St Agatha', the band return with an invitation to explore their landscape of violent poetry and gothic propulsion to the fullest extent yet. Prepare to be lulled under their spell once more with the slow-burn of forerunning single, 'Remoter Heaven'.

Produced by long-time collaborator Buzzard Buzzard Buzzard's Tom Rees. It begins in a dream state of hypnotic repetition that mounts in intensity, with vocalist Jack Shephard presiding over it all with his distinctive, poetic drawl. His protagonist is revisiting a memory of the pain inflicted by a thorn as a child; "I was awake with feeling", he confesses, before the song takes on the momentum that feels like a triumph over the numbness attendant to adulthood.

Of the track, Shephard shares: "I liked the idea of writing a very simple narrative to a big, epic song - something as modest as the story of a child playing in some flowers and then bursting into tears when a thorn pricks their leg. The words are an ode to that sensitivity we embrace when we are young. Then, when we become adults, we insist on subjugating all of that wonderful, absurd rage."

'Remoter Heaven' follows on from 'Tabernacl' and 'St Agatha' which earned Slate rave write-ups and support from publications including NME, CLASH, So Young, DIY, Buzz Magazine, The Most Radicalist and more, as well as early radio plays from the likes of Huw Stephens and Steve Lamacq on BBC 6Music, Matt Wilkinson on Apple Music 1, John Kennedy on Radio X and Jack Saunders on BBC Radio 1.

Afro-Cuban star Daymé Arocena has announced her new album 'Al-Kemi' which will be released on February 23 via Brownswood Recordings. It is her first album since 'Sonocardiogram' in 2019.



Dayme's new single "American Boy" accompanies her album announcement. No other song on the album embodies Arocena’s artistic liberation like “American Boy” - an exhilarating, futuristic slice of progressive pop. “I wrote it ten years ago, but thought it was too much of a pop song,” Dayme reflects. “In an indirect way, the music industry had shown me that I wasn’t welcome in that world. There isn’t a Black woman like me who enjoys the kind of success usually reserved for Rosalía or KAROL G. The image of music genres like salsa or bachata has been painfully distorted throughout the years. You are supposed to clone and fuse yourself in order to conceal your Black or indigenous side. They told me I didn’t fit in that world, but I’m going to prove them wrong.”



When Daymé decided to switch gears and record her fourth studio album in Puerto Rico with the iconic producer Eduardo Cabra (Calle 13), she never imagined that she would end up moving there.



“From the moment I stepped foot on the island, I realized that I never wanted to leave,” says the 31 year-old Cuban singer/songwriter with a hearty laugh. “At the time, I had spent three years away from Cuba, living in Canada with my husband. I called and asked him to come over to Puerto Rico, and to please bring all my stuff. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part. It was simply love at first sight.”



Relying on instinct and intuition is how Daymé has managed her career since she burst on the international scene with 'Nueva Era,' her prodigious debut album, in 2015. Now, she has fully reinvented her sound with 'Al-Kemi,' a revolutionary – and transformative – fusion of neo soul singing, Afro-Caribbean beats and slick new millennium pop.



The album is titled 'Al-Kemi' with the Yoruba word for alchemy. "It means the cosmovision of transformation," she explains. "It is mixing all the elements to achieve an unbeatable result, full of shine and light, like gold springing from the skin."



From the cosmopolitan smoothness of lead single “Suave y Pegao” – an effortless fusion of jazz, bossa nova and urbano stylings with reggaeton star Rafa Pabön on guest vocals – to the smoldering neo-soul of “A Fuego Lento,” with Dominican singer Vicente García, Daymé’s latest album relies on sacred formats of the past but rearranges them in a conscious quest to redraw the very definition of what Latin pop is supposed to sound like.



“It was definitely a team effort,” she reflects from her new home in San Juan. “Flexibility may well be my biggest virtue. I’m always open to every possible suggestion when it comes to making things better. My piano player, Jorge Luis "Yoyi" Lagarza, and I worked on the demos with the rest of my band. Then with Eduardo Cabra’s direction, we enlisted musicians from all over the Caribbean – Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic. Everybody added their energy and coloring.”



It was Daymé’s piano player who originally suggested she contact Eduardo Cabra known for combining commercial aptitude with a refined sense of craftsmanship. Not only did Cabra accept the singer’s offer, but he also invited her to stay at his home during the four months when they recorded 'Al-Kemi' in his Puerto Rico studio.



“I had no idea that he was familiar with my music,” she enthuses. “Eduardo has been in the industry for a long time, and he comes from a world that is more global and commercial than mine. He was the ideal candidate for this project, but I initially didn’t know if he would understand the social, psychological and personal complexities of the message that I wanted to express.”



“Daymé is one of the most talented musicians that I’ve ever worked with,” says Cabra. “Working together was a joy, because she knew exactly the kind of fusion that she was going for: a cross between her Afro-Cuban roots – which clearly are strong on this album – with the more contemporary vein of analogue synths, samples and a bit of electronica. We wanted both worlds to communicate, to be both respectful and disrespectful to the ancestral colors. I feel comfortable with both, and even Calle 13 walked the two paths. This is also the album where Daymé opened up to the Caribbean at large. Her understanding of harmony and her performance skills are out of this world.”



Born in Havana in 1992, Daymé grew up immersed in Afro-Cuban folk, but also listening to cassette tapes of Sade Adu, her father’s favorite singer. She was identified as a prodigious



talent at only 8 years old and soon started studying music. After studying at the prestigious Amadeo Roldán conservatory, she became co-founder and band member of the Cuban-Canadian jazz collective Maqueque in 2017. With the collective, she launched several international tours and earned a GRAMMY nomination.



“In Cuba, the emphasis on technique is exacerbated,” Daymé explains. "At the same time, opportunities are scarce on the island. A career in music provides a potential for escape, which is why the competitiveness is off the charts.”

You get older, you have a family, and you start to slow down-that's how things are supposed to go, right? Not for Montreal band Corridor, who have returned on their fourth album, Mimi, with a sound and style that's more widescreen and expansive than anything that's preceded it. The follow-up to 2019's Junior is a huge step forward for the band, as the members themselves have undergone the type of personal changes that accompany the passage of time; even as these eight songs reflect a newfound and contemplative maturity, however, Corridor are branching out more than ever with richly detailed music, resulting in a record that feels like a fresh break for a band that's already established themselves as forward-thinkers. Mimi immediately recalls the best of the best when it comes to indie rock-Deerhunter's silvery atmospherics immediately come to mind, as well as the spiky effervescence of classic post-punk-but despite these easy comparisons, Corridor remain impossible to pin down from song to song, which makes Mimi all the more thrilling as a listen. "The goal was to work differently, which is the goal we have every time we work on a new album-to build something in a new way," Robert explains. "This time, we took our time." And so in the summer of 2020, Corridor's members-Robert, vocalist/bassist Dominic Berthiaume, drummer Julien Bakvis, and multi-instrumentalist Samuel Gougoux-holed away in a cottage to engage in the sort of creative experimentation that would lead to Mimi's ultimate creation. Corridor tinkered with the songs' raw parts digitally and remotely over the next few years, with co-producer Joojoo Ashworth (Dummy, Automatic) lending their own specific talents in the theoretical booth. The process was a byproduct of not having access to their rehearsal space due to the COVID-19 pandemic, but also a result of the four-piece leaning harder into incorporating electronic textures than on previous records. "For a long time, we identified as a guitar-oriented band, and the goal of making this whole record was trying to get away from that," Berthiaume states. Berthiaume also describes Mimi as a record about "getting older" and "figuring out new parts of life"-but despite any claims of transitional growing pains from the band, Mimi is a record bursting with new energy and life, a vibrance that's owed in no small part to Gougoux joining the band full-time after pitching in on live performances in the past. "I come more from a background of electronic music, so it was nice to involve that with the band more," he explains, and Mimi contains a distinct rhythmic pulse reminiscent of classic era-post-punk's own melding of dance and rock textures. Over bright, chiming guitars and ascending synths, Robert addresses his looming mortality on "Mourir Demain": "I wrote it when my girlfriend and I were shopping for life insurance," he laughs. With our little daughter growing up, we also considered making our will. I said to myself, 'Oh shit, from now on I'm slowly starting to plan my death." Don't mistake this as music about dead ends, though, as Mimi embraces and champions unfettered creativity while paving a way for Corridor's own bright future. "We just focused on making a record that sounded the way we wanted," Gougoux exclaims while discussing the band's aims. "There were no limitations when it came to what was possible."

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.