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If you've seen David Lynch's classic film Mulholland Dr, you might
recognize the title of Paerish's third full-length, You're In Both Dreams
(And You're Scared) - It's a line spoken by one of the two men having a
conversation in that movie's incongruous diner scene - Paerish vocalist/
guitarist Mathias Court was watching the film for maybe the tenth time
last year, and, given the insecurity of being a musician during the COVID
pandemic, that line stood out to him like never before
Given that Paerish was formed when Court was at film school with bassist Martin
Dupraz, it's little surprise that the band--now completed by guitarist Frederic Wah
and drummer Loic Fouquet--would use a cinematic reference for its title. The first
two records were peppered with them, and many of their songs started with Court
fiddling with his guitar while watching something in the hopes that he'd capture
the emotion of whatever was onscreen. This time around, the title is the only
thing directly inspired by the moving image. Whereas on 2016's Semi Finalists
and 2021's Fixed It All, Court would utilize other people's art to draw parallels to
how he was feeling, this time it was his own internal wranglings that influenced
his songwriting.
By December 2021, Court had demoed the album. A year later, Paerish flew to
Philadelphia to record with Will Yip. The band's familiarity with Yip lends a natural
confidence to this album that disproves the very insecurities that inspired it. It
turned into the album Paerish have always wanted to make.
"When I listen to these songs," says Court, "I almost don't realize this is our album.
I feel like we got even closer to our final form. This is the one we've been wanting
since we were kids. I'm so proud of it.

British epic doom metallers Godthrymm (featuring members once
involved in such luminaries as My Dying Bride, Anathema, Vallenfyre, and
Solstice) return with their new album, Distortions
The follow- up to 2020's widely- lauded 'Reflections' shows the Halifax- based
quartet of Hamish Glencross (guitars/ vocals), Catherine Glencross (keyboards/
vocals), "Sasquatch" Bob Crolla (bass), and Shaun "Winter" Taylor-Steels (drums)
elegantly expanding upon their sound and vision. With tracks like "Follow Me,"
featuring former My Dying Bride compatriot Aaron Stainthorpe, "Echoes," and
"Devils," Distortions advances Godthrymm into the hallowed halls of the genre
they adore to death.
"I absolutely wanted to create a much more layered and complex arrangement in
the sound," says Godthrymm's Hamish Glencross. "Totally amping up the
contrasts to the extreme--the light shines brighter, and the darker depths are vast
trenches. There is a lot more harmony and melancholy for much of it, but also
some slab-heavy riffing, too. We wanted a total progression in the production and
more class and clarity in the sound, as opposed to Reflections, which could get
quite dense in tone."
Distortions is the second part of Glencross' Visions trilogy-- the third part,
Projections, is already in the works. Throughout its seven- track, hour- long
expanse, Godthrymm's sophomore effort delves deeper into the despondent
march of post-pandemic singles "Chasm" and "In Perpetuum," the latter released
exclusively on Decibel Magazine's Decibel Flexi Series in 2022. Glencross'
emotionally-charged vocals pair perfectly with his towering riffs and thoughtful,
crestfallen harmonies. The rhythmic foundation of Crolla and Taylor- Steels is
absolutely critical to Glencross' woebegone eclat. With Catherine Glencross'
angelic vocals and atmospheric keyboards stitched into the monumental "As
Titans," the granite-hard "Obsess and Regress," and the stirring "Pictures Remain,"
Distortions has it all.
The songwriting for Distortions began during the first lockdown. For an album
centered lyrically on grief, loss, regret, resolve, love, and determination, it's hard to
imagine something inexplicably heavy yet remarkably beautiful. Producer Andy
Hawkins (Hark, Grave Lines) was the perfect man for the job. Spread across The
Nave Studio in Leeds and Sasquatch Music Studio in Huddersfield, he captured
Godthrymm at their most menacing ("Unseen Unheard") and vulnerable ("Follow
Me"). The tones he extracted from Glencross, Crolla, and Taylor-Steels absolutely
crush, while the brighter moments (like Catherine Glencross' spell-binding vocals
on "Obsess and Regress") splinter Godthrymm's disheartened darkness in two.
Distortions was mastered by Mark Midgley (Doom, Hellkrusher) for Northern
Mastering Co.

'We're All Improvisers Now' is the debut solo album by New York/
Montreal-based performer Tommy Crane, a tranquil, introspective journey through boundary-traversing ambient jazz, buoyed by the creative elan of an artist in full experimentation mode.

Using sensory percussion and a battery of synthesisers, Crane creates a sequence of lucid sonic environments, where the real and synthetic meet, overlap and reappear disguised and opaque.The title's double meaning is immediately apparent; the album is an uncommon take on improvising from a performer incorporating ambient sensibilities and the title also accurately describes the situation many artists found themselves in amidst the pandemic. For Crane, the
pandemic provided a rare gift of time that allowed him to explore his love for electronic and analogue production.

"I don't think I will ever make a record like this again - this was one big
experiment," he says of a project with DIY trappings. After eventually returning from Italy where he was teaching drums and improv classes as Siena Jazz Institute, Crane settled in Montreal with his Canadian partner. At the beginning of the lockdown, he created a spaceship- like rig in his spare room comprised of assorted synths and 'sensory' percussion (which assigns new sounds to drums).

The album features welcome contributions from colleagues phoned in from afar, including saxophonists Logan Richardson and Charlotte Greve, guitarist Simon Angell and bassist Jordan Brooks.

Stephen Steinbrink discovered a short YouTube video of a street magician who approaches a highschooler walking home in Barstow, California. “Here, let me show you my idea,” he says, as he places a quarter on the kid’s hand. The magician performs some relaxed flourishes, and the coin vanishes. In silence, the kid stares at his hand at the nothing where there once, indisputably, was something, until his wonder finds a single word: “Cool.” The title of Disappearing Coin, the new album from Oakland songwriter Stephen Steinbrink, comes from this short clip. “When I look at it now,” he says, “I relate to the kid, who’s obviously uneasy in his body, and going through the experience of being a teenager in the early 2000s growing up in a bleak desert town like I did. I also relate to the coin, an inanimate disc of possibility. And I relate to the magician, an absurd facilitator of sending what is tactile and concrete into the wispy conceptual realm.” “I’ve watched it probably a hundred times,” he says. “It cracked me up but also blew my mind open the feeling of wonder I experienced watching this video became a guide as I navigated new ways of staying in the realm of what’s both real and magical.” Following the 2018 release of Utopia Teased, Steinbrink completed an apprenticeship in the nearly-lost art of Stained Glass, becoming a glazier at a studio that over three years, fully restored the enormous 90-year-old windows in San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. He committed to his Buddhist study, beginning lay monastic training before the process was thwarted by the pandemic. He dove deeper into music production for other artists, engineering two albums by Boy Scouts released on Anti- Records in 2018 and 2021. Steinbrink delighted in the way these pursuits pulled at the thread of ego’s tapestry and decentralized him from his craft, allowing him to embody a new role as a creative caretaker engaging in practices that felt communal and restorative. “As I slowly began writing for myself again, I tried to imbue my new songs with this sense of playfulness and wonder I felt while exploring these other interests.” He says. Feeling unlocked from the pressures of perfection that he often felt in his earlier work, creating Disappearing Coin felt buoyant and healing. “The album feels like an integration of all of my past musical selves zeroing in on the present,” Steinbrink explains, “I felt free to explore new ways of writing, through different perspectives, experimenting with fictional songwriting, visual archetypal language, and total collaboration.” This “total collaboration” was a joyous new venture after years of solo performing and recording. The album can be seen as a 42 minute session of show and tell, the manifestation of Steinbrink repeating the mantra of “Here, let me show you my idea” to himself over and over. Disappearing Coin is at once a welcome return for the veteran Steinbrink and the debut of a totally new artist, one who has found a new path to himself with new goals of openness, curiosity, and self-acceptance. “Recalls the magic pop purity of Arthur Russell...its minimalism manages to feel enlightened and transformative.” PITCHFORK // “Melodic and self-assured. Steinbrink delivers his knotted lyricism with a smooth lilt.

I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tide-flats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off. -The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner

This is the third and final instalment of Jeremiah M. Carter’s album triptych, »Vessels«. Following »Rejoice« and »Speak You Also«, all three album’s where conceived within a 6 month period during ferociously exalting creative sessions.

The Emotional turmoil of the early pandemic is as present on »Vessels« as it is in the other two albums, yet the final instalment showcases as more distinctive sense of focus, where the earlier albums saw Jeremiah expel a state of uncertainty and trepidation into an intense, almost spiritual form of musical cleansing, Vessels still bears those same hallmarks, yet comes across with an air of refinement and finality.

Spanning six pieces, each work feels like an integral part of the albums overarching narrative, fervently nestled amid divinity and humility. By its final piece, which also clocks in as the longest in the entire triptych, we are treated to one of Jeremiah’s finest moments, and for a few seconds, it all comes together for one last swansong, forming a sonic distillation of elation and grief, desire and passion. – It’s all here.

The summer of 2016 marked the fortuitous meeting of two talented musicians, Zaidi Kiggundu (Ziggy Funk) and Jamie Mcshane, at a music festival. Sharing a love for Funk, Jazz, and Soul music, the duo knew they had to collaborate on a project together. Both Zaidi and Jamie had established music careers, bringing their unique backgrounds and experiences to the table. They also had their own music labels, contributing to their respective scenes.

Their collaboration began with a series of demo sessions at Jamie's studio in Scotland. Together, they laid down the foundation for their debut album, which they named 'Fortuitous.' This album fused Funk, Jazz, and Soul with a contemporary touch, paying homage to the classic albums of the past that deeply inspired them. Despite facing challenges such as scheduling conflicts and the disruptive impact of the COVID-19 pandemic, Zaidi and Jamie remained committed to completing the project.

To bring their musical vision to life, they enlisted the help of top-notch musicians on horns, including Ewan Mains, Konrad Wisniewski, and James Steele. With their contributions, the album 'Fortuitous' delivers solid grooves and captivating arrangements, showcasing the duo's dedication to their craft. The quality of the music caught the attention of Splash Music, who eagerly embraced the project. What started as a chance encounter and a few simple ideas many years ago has now transformed into a fully realized album, ready to be released to the world for everyone to enjoy.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

No. is the tenth Soft Riot album by Glasgow-based Canadian synth auteur Jack Duckworth (also known as JJD). With origins from the mid-nineties in the vibrant art-punk/hardcore dominating the West Coast American/ Canadian underground at the time, he has clocked in over twenty five years of musical output in various bands and projects.

No. is the logical follow-up to When Push Comes To Shove, released in November 2019 on the Glasgow UK-based label Possession Records, which saw some critical acclaim in the increasingly diverse synthwave scene — a crystallization of the artist’s signature “SynthLord” sound.

With No. things have been shaken up and pushed into new directions. Many different factors came into play, including the conditions of the pandemic lockdowns and an urge for listening to music favourites from beyond his own scene informed developments on this new record. One key feature of these tracks is that under these conditions they were developed as individual pieces — a contrasting approach from previous albums where tracks were written with an album in mind. An evaluation of all of these individual tracks in the summer of 2022 unveiled a common pattern going through these new compositions.

One can still hear any number of echoes of the spirits of original synth artists in his sound, such as Images in Vogue, The Box, Section 25, Thomas Dolby, Skinny Puppy, Chrome, Cabaret Voltaire, Fad Gadget, Japan and Bill Nelson. However, some of Jack’s halcyon punk influences surface as well, taking inspiration from legendary punk/hardcore labels such as Dischord and Gravity, as listening habits over pandemic steered back towards more guitar-based styles. The introduction of expanded production techniques, experiments with vocal styles and tones, and stylistic shifts mark a progression of Soft Riot’s sound. The result is a snarkier, urgent and more playful, with a focus on pure synthpop, new wave, art-punk, proto-EBM as well as grittier synth-punk and post-punk tones.

The variation, energy and tone of this collection of tracks illustrates Soft Riot’s ability to transcend the hallmarks of today’s music environment, which increasingly is fragmenting into smaller and smaller micro-genres. Dry wit and dark humour take the lyrics and the tone of this album on a fun ride through music scenes, dark alleys and inside jokes.

"When the call came from WDR Rockpalast, we were thrilled - And the joy
grew from day to day," says Peter Bursch, head of the German Krautrock
legend Broselmaschine, founded in 1968 by "Germany's most famous
guitar teacher".Back in 1968, the Heinrich-Robert coalmine in Hamm was
still in its full bloom
Coal had been mined there since 1901, the year in which the Heinrich and Robert
shafts - as they are called in miners' jargon - were "abgeteuft", followed by the
Franz shaft in 1923. On November 10, 1997, the colliery closed its doors forever.
In the colliery's former wage hall, where the miners used to receive their
envelopes with their weekly wages, Broselmaschine rolled out carpets, plugged in
cables and set up their instruments on April 20, 2021. The high-ceilinged rooms
not only provided a matchless scenery, but also the basis for a unique ambient
sound. The perfect setting for Broselmaschine. But Corona had almost
completely paralyzed public life at this point; the pandemic was taking its toll on
the entire cultural scene. Spectators were not allowed to the events. The artists
and bands gave concerts anyway, sometimes from their flats, rehearsal rooms or
in small, empty clubs, and then came to the fans' homes via live stream. This also
applied for the WDR's Rockpalast with its "Offstage" series. The makers of
Rockpalast organized concerts with performances by artists in special places
that were deserted during the lockdown. That had its own charm and was
something very special.
This was also the case with Broselmaschine. The band played almost exclusively
songs from their latest studio album "Elegy" from 2019, as well as the title track
of the previous album "Indian Camel" and as a finale the Marc Bolan cover of
"Children Of The Revolution". Broselmaschine put on a great performance, no one
missed the audience that was not physically present. But it was there, this
audience. And it was in the hearts of the musicians. You can feel this with every
note this outstanding band was playing. Never were Broselmaschine more
musically valuable than on that special occasion.But judge for yourself.
Unique Rockpalast concert OFFSTAGE from the Corona era, recorded on April 20,
2021 at Heinrich-Robert colliery in Hamm, Germany - also available on vinyl

Dance music powerhouse Deeptrax follows up recent dispatches from Joey Anderson and Caim, with a label debut from fellow Dutch techno stalwart Robert Vosmeijer AKA De Sluwe Vos, who offers a 5-track collection that explores the depths of both music and sound.

Crafted during the pandemic, Vosmeijer, who had been experimenting with ambient music and sound design, found himself longing for the dancefloor and its ability to disconnect you from reality whilst reconnecting you with friends. As such he began digging into his record collection, absorbing sounds and reenergising his creative output.

"I loved making these records because it felt like I could express myself, within the 'De Sluwe Vos' project, again.”

The Patron Records boss’ new Terraforming EP opens with ‘Reeeese’, a heavyweight ode to the legendary bass sound that underpins the track with its thick layer of treacly warmth. Solar Prince turns our focus on percussion, with its xylophone melody dancing between vaporised synths and string-laced stabs, to create a soothing and yet urgent soundtrack.

On the flip, title track Terraforming, with its wonderful analogue crackles and hisses, lets the pulsing sub steal the show again as pressurised hats snappily punch holes in the atmosphere. Jupiter's Universe exudes a roughly cut techno 2step, layered with pulsing cosmic synths and bubbling melody.

Finally the EP is rounded off by Crawford. Another track that perfectly rides the intersection of music production and sound design. It’s cosmic keys and scything synths work almost at odds with the tribal roll of his drums, yet come together to create a mature and unique production.

'In Tense' from New York-based composer and bassist Harish Raghavan, following his 2019 debut 'Calls For Action' this new and all-original output was recorded at the end of 2020 in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic. The album's six tracks were written especially for the exceptional band of drummer Eric Harland, guitarist Charles Altura, Joel Ross on vibraphone and marimba, and Morgan Guerin on woodwinds.

Robert Pollard has a very strong work ethic. With most of their touring canceled due to the pandemic and then a fractured kneecap, Guided By Voices ran up an extremely prolific streak in the studio, recording and releasing eight albums in the past three years and garnering piles of rave four star and five star reviews in the process. In case one were snoozing, the last album, La La Land was Uncut magazine’s “Best Of The Month.” The pandemic records were particularly notable and unique that the band members recorded most of their instruments individually in separate cities. Welshpool Frillies finds the gang back together, in a Brooklyn basement with producer Travis Harrison. Much of it was recorded live to tape. The catchy ear worms in these new songs are undeniable, as the kinetic energy of the band is captured in its most raw and pure form. The album is brash, no-frills, and punky, inspired by the wiliness of 90s-era GBV, specifically the Scalping The Guru compilation that Pollard put together in 2022. 2023 marks the 40th anniversary of GBV’s start in Dayton, Ohio. Robert Pollard was an elementary school teacher with no formal music training, and his unlikely success has been an odds-defying adventure. It’s never too late to discover this vital rock band and join the GBV cult.

Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle, shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable. In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an artifact that "proves for decades that Bush Tetras continued to evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time, the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right. They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head. The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed along - side a catalog as expansive as it is influential), They Live in My Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matter- of-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done, the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is absolutely no exception.

Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle, shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable. In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an artifact that "proves for decades that Bush Tetras continued to evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time, the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right. They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head. The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed along - side a catalog as expansive as it is influential), They Live in My Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matter- of-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done, the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is absolutely no exception.

In an era defined by futility, isolation, and precarity, it can be difficult to envision a utopia. But on Skeleten’s thrilling, immersive debut album, Under Utopia, the Sydney musician dares to imagine new ways of being that are not characterized by doom or despair. Across eleven tracks of free-flowing, transcendent, and often euphoric electronic music, Skeleten praises the power of comradery and community; while dreaming of a future that is joyously boundless. 



Skeleten, real name Russell Fitzgibbon, has always been fascinated by the ideas of utopias. He’s thought a lot about how the concept has shifted and morphed throughout history, and how the goal post for a utopia is always moving further and further away. “We're more familiar with the idea of a dystopia in the modern world - that's more close to our consciousness. I think on this album I wanted to explore the importance of imaging and embodying a new world.”

Written before and during the pandemic, the album was born out of a desire to connect with others and to shake the mantle of introspection that had been placed on his previous works. From the opening notes of the otherworldly album opener “Generator”, it's clear that this record prioritises immediate pleasures without forgoing intimacy. The lyrics are also more explicit, reaching outward with inviting choruses and mantra-like melodies. “I think the album came out of the experience of feeling this great desire to reconnect and dreaming of the power of community,” says the musician.

This is especially present in lead single ‘Sharing The Fire’, a song that crackles with optimism. A sprawling dance track with pulsating synths and Fitzgibbon’s gentle, warm vocals, the song is about futures that are full of brightness and bliss. As the artist repeats in the song’s chorus: “for all that you know, summer could be around the corner.” The song is about an “almost frustrated desire to connect with more people and feel that sense of community through shared goals.” The accompanying video clip, shot on 35mm, is similarly invested in ideas of companionship and gathering. Shot in a clinical, drab office space, friends and revelers fill the space with warmth and energy.

Elsewhere, this invocation of paradise is infused in the stripped-back, singular title track “Under Utopia”. The song was significant to Fitzgibbon, as it allowed him to gather all his thoughts and ideas about his new music under one message. “It’s something I wrote when I had this collection of songs and wanted to give it a single voice, which was about seeing the world entirely new, full of hope and beauty, and all of us underneath pushing it upwards.” 

An antidote for gloom presented in Under Utopia is the transformative power of love. There’s “Heart Full Of Tenderness”, a woozy, languorous love song, awash with cloudy vocals and glistening synths; the truncated beats and hypnotic pleading of “Territory Day” and “Right Here It’s Only Love” which explores the icier and ambient side of R’n’B.


Another hallmark that characterizes Under Utopia is Fitzgibbon’s airy and spacious mix, which gives his songs room to sprawl out and simmer; as well as allowing his calming baritone to come to the fore. This is notable in the contemplative, synth-laden “Colour Room”, the funk-tinged “Walking On Your Name,” the previously released “No Drones in the Afterlife,” and the beloved early single “Mirrored,” which speaks of finding yourself through a connection to those around you.

Fitzgibbon has been enmeshed in the Sydney music scene for years. Skeleten emerged out of a need to experiment and make music without worrying about the outcome. “It was just me making music that felt right, and very much focusing on this kind of meditative aspect of exploring without any goal,” says Fitzgibbon. But as the project has evolved, the artist has gained clarity on what he hopes his music will achieve: bringing people together, and creating an atmosphere of elation. Or as Fitzgibbon puts it on Under Utopia’s hallucinatory album closer “We’re gonna get everything we need in the world.”

* Debut LP from NYC Garage Rockers * Produced by Nick Zinner from Yeah Yeah Yeahs! Miranda and The Beat are a Rock and Roll band, with all that the term might entail. Drawing from the traditional rock music, as performed by the likes of The Dirt Bombs, The B-52's, MC5, and Ronnie Spector, Miranda and The Beat operate from a clear eyed appreciation of the greats and a healthy, barn-burning disregard for tropes or traditionalist limitations. Garage, soul, punk, classic rock_ pick your poison; the band has plenty to spare. Arriving in New York City in 2018, the band have, through songwriting and performance, proved themselves to be both an essential spark and spearhead to a scene of new blood rockers bringing a much needed renewal of energy to the New York City (garage, rock, whatever) scene. Originally a duo of 21 year old guitarist/vocalist Miranda Zipse and 21 year old drummer Kim "The Beat" Sollecito, the pair quickly added a full band of Kate Gutwald on bass and Dylan Fernadez on organ and soon became known for their tireless, wheel-on-fire live sets driven by Miranda's captivating stage presence, vocal prowess, and her pyrotechnic (but never indulgent!), melodically slashing guitar work. Their live reputation (and a reputation for being neither pushovers nor scumbags) led to collaborations with such childhood idols as The Mystery Lights and Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Soon there was the release of their 7" single Such A Fool, on Jack White's Third Man Records and an extensive North American tour supporting The King Khan and BBQ show. One pandemic later, between days/nights spent sweating out piss, vinegar, and trackloads of tears in the studio, and a rigorous, borderline ridiculous, rehearsal schedule, Miranda and The Beat are, at this juncture, practically monstrous in both sound and vision, and ready to meet the world.

The follow up to the band’s celebrated 2020 release Fish Pond Fish and Darlingside’s fourth LP marks a subtle but remarkable departure for the Boston-based quartet NPR once described as “exquisitely arranged, literary minded, baroque folk- pop.” While the album retains much of the lushness and sophistication of Extralife (2018) and Fish Pond Fish, the band’s latest work highlights the individuality of the four songwriters in a way that adds a fitting element of reinvention to an album that captures brilliantly the quality of the moment in which it was made. Grappling with change both personal and universal, with quandaries domestic and existential, Everything Is Alive is an album about loss and the struggle for a semblance of redemption; themes of grief, distance and hope permeate an album filled with vivid imagery and lyrical creativity. Comprised of Don Mitchell, Auyon Mukharji, Harris Paseltiner and David Senft, four likeminded multi-instrumentalists who first met at Williams College in 2009, Darlingside’s career has been defined by the elegance of their compositions and the remarkable unity of their four voices. Their talent for harmony and melodic world-building is part of what garnered praise from outlets like NPR, Rolling Stone and The New Yorker, and what has created demand worldwide for their extraordinary live performances. Becoming beautifully unindividualized has, in other words, worked very well for Darlingside in the past. With a vigor and discipline more common to graduate-level writing workshops than to indie rock, Darlingside have, over the years, experimented with all manners of idiosyncratic methods for elevating and upholding a truly democratic process of songwriting—processes that include multiple rounds of group writing and recording exercises—all with the aim of escaping the trap that bands with multiple songwriters often fall into: the ruse of ego-driven infighting and artistic incoherence. Everything Is Alive is Darlingside taking a risk. Nudged by the limitations created by pandemic isolation, as well as through other more voluntary catalysts, the album, which was produced and recorded by the band and mixed by Tucker Martine (My Morning Jacket, Sufjan Stevens, Iron and Wine), foregrounds in a sustained and heretofore untried way the individual voices of each member.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic travelling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviours are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behaviour has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behaviour and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic traveling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviors are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behavior has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behavior and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.