Buscar:part time signals

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. "We were trying to find our own space," says Cinder of the formative period Camouflage Heart emerged from, amidst a move from Edinburgh to London and Cinder's evolving exploration of gender identity, well before culture at large was equipped to understand. With contemporary discourse we see that the project manifested her transgender ideas as visceral music. The guttural, feral sound marked a notably darker turn from The Freeze's sixyear run on the fringes of punk. Changing the project's name became vital, not just because they kept hearing the former was already taken, but the desire to embody the spiritual and sonic shift, "to uncover new pathways_to feminize it," she says. Cinder, with bandmates David Clancy and John Byrne, arrived at Cindytalk, a winking nod to Sindy, the British fashion doll rival to Barbie known then for its pull-string talking mechanism. "The goal was to have a more interesting narrative, more interesting dialogue. Music was ultimately my only way of talking to people. That was my conversation with the world, an abstracted conversation_an attempt to make some kind of tiny, tiny mark, if possible, you hope somebody will notice." Over the years, Cinder has heard from fans who did pick up on the signals and find refuge in Camouflage Heart. Camouflage Heart plays with tension and pace, from creeping to feverish to claustrophobic. The percussion moves between restless marches and barely-there pulses; for some parts, they scratched and hit a tin bath, among other objects. Guitar lines vibrate and stab as Cinder contorts her voice freely. She pulls poetry from a cerebral abyss, like "make the snake in your eye, pierce the camouflage heart" on the slow-droning centerpiece "The Spirit Behind the Circus Dream." In that register is raw power, both vulnerable and menacing, an ability to locate something deep and emotionally charged within. "I still remember that person who was way too intense for their own good," Cinder reflects. "I couldn't make a record like that now, certainly not vocally, while that anger hasn't dissipated; there's still a kind of warrior." For all the destruction and disintegration of Camouflage Heart, Cinder maintains the objective was never full-on fatalistic; these songs seek not to destroy but to poke and provoke, to transform and heal, to find cracks of light in a crumbling world. She points to the last lines of the opening track, "It's Luxury": "Don't look down," the lyric pines through static and rhythm. Cinder extrapolates, "I'm essentially saying, just keep fucking going. As time went on, for me, that falling became flying. Camouflage Heart is the beginning of believing in flight."

Madronas’ debut LP Erogenous Biome is an amorphous, murky, cathartic offering. A duet of modular synthesizer and winds that’s equal parts doom and ecstasy, it’s the sound of a majestic butterfly emerging from it’s slimy chrysalis just in time to catch the sun setting on the end of days, a bewitching, heavy ceremony, a power-wash of both mind and spirit.

Tracked in one continuous take at Brooklyn’s Heavy Meadow studio, individual tracks were gleaned from the purge and eschew predictable structures, making for a dense, fluid suite of improvisation, like dancing smoke ribbons in the dark. The duo's chosen sound sources are seemingly opposite - Ry Fyan’s modular’s coming from electronic oscillators, Isaiah Barr’s saxophone and various flutes originating with the breath - but the visceral, imprecise, alive quality to the sound of both lends the record a thrilling combination of rapturous harmony and gritty, intense friction.

Opening the session in ritualistic, foreboding fashion, Voluntary lurches to life with rattles and wandering, bassy arpeggios before a suona’s cry signals the seance has officially begun. Ostraca Loam spits explosive modular rhythms and eerie shrieks for the flute to float above, while Detritus Harp smudges mechanical whirring, pensive horn and wind chimes for an untethered drift. Petrified Microdot swells with menacing sci-fi sequences and breathtaking sax runs until they both run out of breath, and Negative Lingam starts out in a panic of breathy riffing before exhaling into one of the most sublime passages on the record. Rhythmic pounding and undulating flutes punctuate Lenticular Shroud, before The Preparation Of The Novel sets the winds aside for a synthesized dual fit for electric dreams. The title track dominates the B-side, it's shimmering levity slowly unfurling to reveal itself as a kind of post-apocalyptic devotional music, deep space drifting grounded by earthly flutes, and Vale Of Cashmere offers an ascetic, contemplative closure, sparse flute and chiming rhythms organic or electronic - by this time it’s hard to know, it doesn’t matter either way.

Erogenous Biome is a world of it’s own, and one Impatience is honored to offer a window into.

RIYL - Senyawa, witchcraft, Colin Stetson , Civilistjavel, Mars (the planet), Finis Africae, raga, Stephen O’Malley, modular synthesizer, Anthony Braxton, Shabaka.

Madronas is Ry Fyan and Isaiah Barr. Fyan is a painter and tattoo artist, this is his first release. Barr is a prolific instigator of the downtown New York scene, producing and playing saxophone in jazz circles with his group Onyx Collective, as a player and/or producer on records by Nick Hakim, David Byrne and Wiki, performing live with William Parker and as part of his projects Universal Space Jam and Cafe Dewanee.

Erogenous Biome was recorded and mastered by Griffin Jennings at Heavy Meadow, Brooklyn.

Vinyl was cut by Beau Thomas at Ten Eight Seven Mastering, Berlin.

Artwork is by Ry Fyan, typography and layout by Nicolas Turek.

Trueno is the result of the exploration of two lovers of the unusual, the experimentation, and the noise. The product of the meetings between Martí and Oxo during various sessions recorded in 2024 in Oxo's private studio in Madrid.

Martí provided his modular synthesizer, and DIY sound generators and modifiers. A set of parts that transform electric signals into audio and deconstructs them to the smallest grains. Through synthesis processes, and the use of the sampler as an instrument, the sound is destroyed, constructed, and manipulated, generating complex sounds and structures, both rhythmic and stochastic.

Oxo is a sound engineer and experimental musician. He provided all the necessary machinery for recording and mixing and a constant creative suggestion, facilitating the process of capture, breakdown, editing, and mixing in real-time.

After twenty years of playing intensely as a recognized musician and sound artist, Martí has recorded his first reference, an LP that can never be performed, but can be listened to permanently.

The Tonarium is an idiosyncratic instrument comprising of two sets of modular synthesizers: Serge by Random Source, and another one by Bugbrand, both of which operate alongside a mixer constructed by Piotr Ceglarek and Jan Dybała. This intertwinement facilitates precise control over audio and CV signals and integrates technology with analog sound, offering the artists a distinctive sonic palette to delve into.

The present record unfolds in two parts, each exploring the fluctuating nature of sound. Both equally contribute to the work’s immersive imaging characterized by sound intensity, continuity and endless flow. Within its sonic tapestry lies a space for listeners to uncover subtle nuances, pulsations, and moments of harmony flickering through each chord’s firm surface.

In Part I, a formidable force consisting of chord progressions pierced by abrupt shifts and transitions unfolds. This deliberate disruption of harmonic continuity invites listeners to immerse themselves fully in each musical entity, uncovering the intricate details of the chords’ overtonal structure, drifting and steadily glimmering inside their glowing cores.

Part II, on the other hand, presents a more closed form—a recurring four-chord motif that evolves and transforms with each iteration until it finally fades out into whisper-like serenity. Here, the bass pulsates with greater intensity, like a wave enveloping the listener in a froth of feelings, which prevails and swells throughout the composition. In contrast to Part I, it exudes a sense of warmth and intimacy, inviting listeners to reflect over the dimensions of their own inner landscapes.

The Tonarium is to serve as a conduit for expression—a vessel through which the artist Aleksandra Slyz is enabled to channel her creativity and emotion into the music. Both Part I and II of the work have the capacity to drag listeners into a sonic odyssey that transcends time and space, therefore leaving an indelible impression on one’s trembling soul.

Performed & recorded on December 18-19th 2023 while in residence at The New Media Laboratory in Katowice, Poland.

Organized by The Soundscape Foundation

Composed & produced by Aleksandra Słyż

Mastered by Rashad Becker

Photographies by Kacper Krzętowski

Design by Maks Posio

Executive production by Christian Di Vito

Dark Entries celebrates its 15th anniversary with legendary synth-punk deviants Crash Course in Science. Dale Feliciello, Mallory Yago, and Michael Zodorozny formed CCIS in 1979 after meeting at art school in Philadelphia. As a gesture born of equal parts punk irreverence and brute necessity, the band incorporated toy instruments and kitchen appliances into their aggressive, angular sound. Their anthems “Cardboard Lamb” and “Flying Turns” from 1981’s Signals From Pier Thirteen EP have been staples in adventurous DJ sets for over 40 years - yet some of their finest work is to be found on Near Marineland, a full-length LP recorded in 1981 but remained unreleased in its time. Near Marineland shows the band moving into more diverse and polished territory (although it’s still as abrasive as sandpaper). Tracks like “No More Hollow Doors” and “Jump Over Barrels” highlight CCIS’s singular knack for embedding infectiously monotone hooks in their stiff-yet-funky grooves. Elsewhere we see CCIS going fully unhinged, like on the searing “Someone Reads” or the demented “Pompeii Spared”, where a spray of honks is barely glued together by a frantic synthetic pulse. While this masterwork of malfunctioning analog electronics has surfaced on a few occasions - this first time stand alone remaster includes four never-before-released bonus tracks and includes a lyric sheet. Near Marineland is crucial listening for all devotees of synth-punk and minimal electronics.

Roberto Cacciapaglia is an Italian composer and pianist who started out in the fertile Milan avant-garde scene of the 1970s, which included Franco Battiato, Giusto Pio, Lino Capra Vaccina, Francesco Messina, among others. After studying at the conservatory, he worked at RAI's Studio of Musical Phonology – an electronic music laboratory similar to NDR/WDR in Germany, GRM/IRCAM in France or BBC Radiophonic Workshop.

Originally released in 1979, Sei Note In Logica (Six Notes In Logic) is Cacciapaglia's second album. While his debut, Sonanze, offers a series of ambient mini-soundtracks, Sei Note presents a singular, sinuous piece. The composition is based on a finite set of musical notes, yet this limitation is the point of departure for a grand tour of possible combinations and enthralling timbres (marimbas, strings, reeds and human voice).

Like Steve Reich's Music For 18 Musicians, the joyous experiment of Sei Note is grounded in constant variation. Often doubled by multiple instruments, non-repeating patterns are exquisitely layered, while electro-acoustic signals transform and further refract through visceral effects. Within this conceptual framework, Cacciapaglia does not so much juxtapose rigid dichotomies – acoustic vs. electronic, melodic vs. dissonant, simple vs. complex – as fuse them into an expansive whole.

What started as an inspired study in Minimalism becomes a bold feat of 20th century music. Sei Note In Logica is deeply sincere and, at the same time, quite playful. With one foot firmly planted in the past and the other steeped in technology, Cacciapaglia's influence can be heard in the work of Jim O'Rourke, Fennesz and Ben Vida.

The title of this 2004 classic is an apt one; Of Malice and the Magnum Heart brought melody and emotion to the metalcore genre like few albums before and since, particularly on the devastating “The Year Summer Ended in June,” which commemorates the deaths of Jordan Wodehouse and Daniel Langlois of the Misery Signals precursor band Compromise, killed by a drunk driver in Heflin, Alabama. For its 20th anniversary, and for its FIRST release on vinyl at American retail, we’re pressing this one in “orange crush” vinyl, complete with a lyric insert. Complex time signatures, complementary dual guitar parts, and experimental interludes (e.g. the instrumental “Worlds & Dreams”) make for a thinking and feeling man’s metal album… recommended!

Primordial State drops the second part of the various artists series. This time with SU01, Volpe, Hitam and the label heads themselves.

Janis Joplin wouldn't be denied on Pearl. The powerhouse vocalist had kicked her addictions, teamed with a stupendous band, and partnered with a producer that knew how to best showcase her voice on record. She came to the sessions with an armload of astonishing songs, and a burst of creative energy that mirrored her rejuvenated emotional state and undeniable spirit. You can hear it on every note of the 1971 record. Ranked #135 on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Albums of All Time list, Pearl sold more than four million copies and stands as the first female rock superstar's definitive studio work.

Mastered from the original master tapes, cut at 45RPM, and pressed on dead-quiet vinyl at RTI, the iconic audiophile label's reissue takes Joplin and Co.'s stupendous performances to newly transcendent levels. Boasting a fidelity that further magnifies the singer's passion and producer Paul A. Rothchild's clear production, this pressing benefits from increased spaciousness, dynamics, and openness afforded by the wider grooves. Joplin's husky, strong, and penetrating singing has never sounded so vibrant or made deeper connections. Warm, organic, and free of any artificial ceilings, this version lets you step into Sunset Sound Recorders with the performers, such is the degree of realism and authenticity. Indeed, few, if any words, describe Joplin better than "authentic," and her spirit comes to life on this 2LP set in positively transcendent fashion. Like its headliner, this pressing leaves it all on the floor.

While Joplin's electrifying vocal prowess is universally lauded – she's recognized as the greatest white female blues singer the world has ever seen – her mix of compassion, confidence, and charm play as large a role in attracting listeners and keeping them ensnared more than four decades after her tragic death. And on Pearl, she burrows into deeper stylistic veins, teasing out sides of her persona and craft she'd never previously displayed. Her signature desperation, sadness, and vulnerability remain – the harrowing, lonely wail that begins her soul-ravishing take on Jerry Ragovoy's "Cry Baby," underlined with a Wall of Sound-like piano accompaniment, could only come from a person severely scarred by loss and disappointment – yet Joplin also reveals a sense of humour and beatnik innocence that helped propel the album to the top of the charts for nine straight weeks.

Playfully introduced as "a song of great social and political import," the acapella "Mercedes Benz" reflects Joplin's throaty timbre as well as her enhanced, sunnier mood. Similarly, her definitive read of Kris Kristofferson's "Me and Bobby McGee" signals a laidback demeanour and a move into country strains, with the delivery as natural, carefree, and loving as any in the rock canon. As she does throughout the record, Joplin invests her all in the narrative so that there's no line between the performer and the song. She makes everything on Pearl feel autobiographical, and by extension, gut-wrenchingly honest, and devastatingly intimate. Joplin achieved these feats often during her brief career, yet there are differences on Pearl, chiefly among them her balance of impeccable timing and raw emotion. Heart-aching anthems such as "A Woman Left Lonely" offer both grit and control, subtlety and attack, resulting in cathartic releases distinguished with originality, personality, and instinctual passion.

Pearl remains Joplin's finest hour, with credit also owed to the Full Tilt Boogie Band – the only group she ever considered to be her own – as well as the Doors alum that sat behind the boards. Joplin and Rothchild both admitted to sharing a common bond and understanding, with the latter inheriting the role of teacher and Joplin, a willing student ready to discover how she could use her voice in new, more expressive ways. The fruits of the pair's labours fill Pearl, be it the guardedly optimistic "Get It While You Can" or assertive, fleet-footed "Move Over."

Experienced in the new light brought to fore by this definitive Mobile Fidelity edition, Joplin's swan song is no longer about a masterpiece that its creator never lived to see finished. Rather, it's about a once-in-a-lifetime vocalist realizing mammoth potential and wringing passion out of every note. It's not a tragedy, but a triumph. Get it while you can.

30 Jahre nach der Veröffentlichung des selbstbetiteln Debütalbums erscheint "Electric Orange" nun endlich auch auf Vinyl gepresst. Die Doppel LP kommt auf 180g schwerem, orange-marbled Vinyl und im Gatefold-Sleeve daher. Dirk Jan Müller interessiert sich seit 1988 für die deutsche Underground-Musik der 70er Jahre, und seine Leidenschaft für Bands wie Amon Düül, Tangerine Dream, Nektar, Neu! und Can führte dazu, dass er Synthesizer, Keyboards, Verstärker und verschiedene Musikgeräte aus den 70er Jahren sammelte. Von seinem Heimstudio aus veröffentlichte er einige Underground-Kassetten mit elektronischer Musik, die im Kassettennetzwerk zu kursieren begannen ("Octopus's Garden" und "Time Signals"), bis 1992 eine britische Firma namens Electronic Dreams "Time Signals" veröffentlichte. In der Zwischenzeit begann Dirk mit der Arbeit am Debütalbum "Electric Orange", zu dem er eine Reihe anderer Musiker und eine Fülle von Instrumenten wie Hammondorgel, Saxophon, Flöte, verschiedene Schlaginstrumente, Samples und E-Gitarren hinzuzog. Im März 1994 veröffentlichte das deutsche Underground-Elektronik-Label "Manikin" das Album auf CD. Es hieß schlicht "Electric Orange" und war eine atemberaubende Mischung aus Krautrock der frühen 70er Jahre und psychedelischem Space Rock, aber mit einem völlig modernen Sound, der das Genre mit neuen Technologien und Produktionswerten aktualisierte. Das Album wurde schnell zu einer begehrten Veröffentlichung, allerdings haperte es am Vertrieb und schien somit zum Kultstatus verdammt zu sein, bis Delerium Records es entdeckte und die Rechte erwarb. Auch 30 später fasziniert der Electric Orange-Sound noch immer und es war überfällig, dieses Juwel endlich auch auf Vinyl zu veröffentlichen.

With Scream If You Don’t Exist, Richie Culver metamorphoses from outsider musician to underground fixture, feeling his way from the fringes towards a growing community of musicians that have gravitated towards his singular sound world. Building upon the stark catharsis of his previous dispatches, on his sophomore album the artist draws from grimdark drone, industrial noise, experimental hip-hop and UK rave to map out a space for himself, caught between genre and discipline. While on his debut, I Was Born By The Sea, Culver took a last glimpse back at his grey, salt-flecked past while struggling towards somewhere brighter, here, he documents the process of finding fresh waters, parsing through the complexity of inhabiting a more open and optimistic place while contending with the weight of his resolve, staring hard won self-acceptance in the face. The album’s title speaks to this creative and emotional work, serving both as the foundational paradox from which the artist’s new discordant sound emerges and as a call to action, a defiant cry in the face of existential angst.

Part of this process involves visiting familiar territory with renewed focus. Macabre opener ‘Hottest Day Of The Year’ signals an unpleasant memory with crow caw, queasy, gas leak ambience and dental drill whir as Culver recalls a life lived in nihilism: “Everything is just something that happened / Reductionism, muscles spasms, a mother’s first contraction.” Yet, on Scream If You Don’t Exist, Culver’s irresistible formula for ragged machine poetry is shot through with palpable urgency. No longer listless and despairing, he finds new intricacies for these compositions, tracing a stark interplay between crushing bass excavations and penetrating vocal clarity, a contrast picked out in the delicate threads of rhythmic pulse suggesting themselves in the blunt pressure and skittering creep of ‘Weakness’, on which Culver offers up vulnerability as a tentative solution to self-described emotional constipation: “Please do / Do take my kindness for weakness / For I am weak / And that is ok.” The amniotic soundscape of ‘YOLO (then u die)’ gives way to depth charge drone and unnerving machinic improvisations, like a noise show heard from deep in the Mariana trench, while on ‘Underground Flower’ the low-end fog lifts to reveal a brighter, colder scene. “Love me for who I could be / Not who I am,” he pleads, tending gently to his own tenacious bud.

Scream If You Don’t Exist gives us a glimpse of this flower in bloom. On the album’s cursed self-help tape title track stuttering loops of off-kilter keys and childlike repetition make light of the very real risk of disappearing all-together, a nervous breakdown rendered as a malfunctioning nursery rhyme. Paranoiac anthem ‘Say 4 Sure’ introduces bit-crushed boom-bap stomp, as though hammered out on a water-logged Game Boy, swarms of loose-wire noise sparking up against guttural grunts and ragged exhalations, while ‘On The Top’ enacts a seance for the hardcore spirit, with loops of rave piano and hiccuping vocal chops pirouetting through knackered samples, air raid sirens and the ghostly crash of breakbeat cymbals. As though in response to the solitary nature of much of his musical exploration, this time, the artist invites other voices into the world of Scream If You Don’t Exist. On ‘Swollen’, the unflinching, brimstone prophecy of Billy Woods sounds clear through an expanse of spirallic bass, preaching the same frayed gospel as Culver when he issues the quietly devastating contemporary diagnosis: “Computer broke but it still works for now / That’s the best you can say for most of us anyhow,” while another fearless correspondent from the fringes, Moor Mother, brings earthbound heft to the ambient drift and obliterating barrage of ‘Restaurants,’ teasing out meaning with elongated intonation and pitch-shifted intensity.

It’s during the album’s most meditative moments that we might recognise this space Culver has found for himself for what it really is. ‘OMG They’re Gone’ follows a chopped and slowed monologue from Culver’s wife, who works as a death doula, reflecting on her own experiences with grief and the reality of living within a culture both terrified and ignorant of the process. Floating over glistening ebb, etherised croons and luminous chimes, her words stand as a prescient reminder of the power of ephemerality. Just as Culver flourishes in imperfection, here we can find enormous strength in transcience. But it’s with ‘Just Jump In,’ which unfurls like a buoyant counterpart to the sparkling oil rigs of ‘I was born by the sea’, that Culver illuminates the hopeful waters we realise we’ve been making our steady way towards. “I know now / That you loved me,” he admits, a revelation a lifetime in the making. Through the rawest reflection Culver has found a way forward, driven by an optimism drawn from a resolve to be better, to love and be loved, an admission to weakness and the discovery of a new kind of strength. “Don’t test the water,” he reassures us and himself, “just jump in.”

Scream If You Don’t Exist will be released in November 2023 by Participant, on limited edition vinyl, and digital download . The release will be accompanied by a series of films directed by Mau Morgo, Josiane M.H Pozi, William Markarian-Martin, Simon Bus, and Bruxism.

Cycles is a concept which is deeply intertwined with everyday life, both on a micro and macro level. They manifest in various natural, biological and societal processes, influencing our daily routines, behaviours and the world around us. Unconventional rhythms and time signatures, complex patterns, evolving modulations and shifting textures were created and used to present it (Cycles) as an integral part of our existence, shaping how we navigate to the world, make decisions and experience the passage of time..." Kostas Giazlas (Onepointwo). Kostas hails from Thessaloniki, Greece, and describes himself as a keen record collector, who is "always trying to emulate a musical journey into space, time, memories and frequencies". With Influences ranging from late 50s electronic experimental sounds, motorik krautrock bands, lush shoegaze melodies and modern electronica, Onepointwo seeks to crystallise this musical backdrop via judicious use of minimal arrangements, abstract and distorted shortwave radio signals, dystopian soundscapes made up of both digital and analogue sources, all punctuated with heavily affected percussive sounds. The listener is drawn in by the psychedelic impact achieved through repetition. Onepointwo's previous discography ably demonstrates his consummate skill in this field. Keene (Poeta Negra) / SANS (Lotus RecordShop Editions), plus various appearances / remixes in domestic label compilations. He has also clocked up an number of releases on UK labels, including Miracle Pond, Woodford Halse, Werra Foxma and Subexotic Records across various formats; plus several live performances/dj sets and a host of rave reviews including Electronic Sound Magazine.

Repress!

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.

Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.

Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytumcomosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”

But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.

The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.

“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.

Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.

Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’snew renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

Sometimes, space is the perfect catalyst for intense creativity. Following the release of their fourth LP, 2019's Your Church On My Bonfire, PAWS - the Scottish DIY indie rock songwriting partnership of Phillip Jon Taylor and Joshua Swinney, toured briefly, and as the world began to shut down, they slipped out of sight. Phillip retreated north to the Highlands where he focused on his painting, solo work and the rewarding demands of fatherhood. Josh headed south to London, pursuing his other passion as a chef at the highly acclaimed Plimsoll. It would have been easy for both to settle into their new lives, but PAWS never died…and neither did the tie connecting the two friends. Having missed playing together for too long, a plan was set and in October 2022 Josh travelled to Phillip's home studio in his crofters cottage where work began on the band's fifth self-titled LP. Relying on a set of phone demos and chemistry honed after years on the road the songs came together surprisingly fast. Having recorded previously with both Blink 182’s Mark Hoppus and Frightened Rabbit’s Andy Monaghan, the band once again seized control of production duties as they had on their sophomore release Youth Culture Forever. Utilizing all they had learned and adding their own DIY ethos into the mix, the music was done in a week. Josh headed home and Phillip set to work on lyrics. The resulting record finds the band as grounded and assured as they ever have been. Marrying the deafening assault of youthful abandon with the whispered reasoning that comes with getting older; swaying from anger and exasperation to wide eyed optimism. PAWS is a succinct, razor wire encased documentary chronicling the pains of modern living. Delving into the dark underbelly of 90s alternative rock, painting with evocative instrumentals and reveling in celebratory indie punk, the band also embrace sordid pop and ambient electronics. And while it pays homage to where they have come from, it also signals a clean slate for the pair. Two friends united over distance. After some time apart, all they needed was a spark.

Much of Radio Red, the first full length album Laura Groves has released under her own name, was written, produced and recorded by Groves in her studio, watched over by two radio transmitting towers. “I became very drawn to them and they became like symbols to me; they were always awake, sending their messages, the red lights always came on at night and watched over whatever was going on in my life.” The album deals with themes of communication - missed and intercepted signals, chance meetings, synchronicities, the channels through which we try to express our true feelings, the outside interference that can get in the way and the joy of letting go and allowing the messages to flow freely.

Self-recording and production is a core part of Laura’s songwriting process. “I remember years ago getting hold of some basic recording software and being instantly drawn in. The idea of being able to layer up my voice was a dream, like building an orchestra out of what I had at home.” The passion for home-recording, using the resources available at the time, working through limitations and capturing textures through layering, forms the foundation of Groves’ experimental and off-centre pop music and electrified folk music. The sound world of Radio Red is made up of echoes, and snapshots of half-remembered pop songs, piano ballads, chopped up TV theme tunes, ambient synthesised sounds and electronic music; tuning in between channels without fully belonging to any one of them, with the comfort, familiarity and strangeness that can come with hearing voices on the radio.

Six years, more than fifty releases, countless artists and multiple subsidiaries; the Oyster Cult’s reach extends far beyond what sceptics once thought possible. It’s only fitting, then, that we gather some of our finest under the Kalahari banner in celebration.

The anniversary release is upon us. Six whole years since Jacy helped inaugurate the label with a spin on Midwestern house, OYSTER40 signals a landmark occasion. 18 tracks, quadruple vinyl boxset action, and in true Oyster Cult tradition, it comes bearing pearls.

Dancefloor squarely in focus, the Cult assembles on a compilation spanning alumni and new inductees alike. It’s an assemblage of the fractal, explorative and ritual-ready; at once a focused distillation of the Kalahari sound and celebration of its many acolytes. Big on atmosphere, heavy on groove, we delve deeply into the musical DNA shared by all who grace the label.

Tough, direct cuts (Sansibar, Roza Terenzi, Big Zen, Maara & Priori) to the pristine and widescreen (S.O.N.S., Volodymyr Gnatenko, Adam Pits), this is all quintessentially Kalahari. Elsewhere though, the likes of D. Tiffany and SW. journey further into realms of abstraction: the former opting for hi-tech, dreamstate IDM, while the SUED co-founder dissolves a house template into dubby introspection.

Calling upon contemporary talents for the most part, there are also exceptions. Raymond Castoldi - the one-time house producer best known as Madison Square Garden’s music director - returns with an unreleased nugget from ’91, while an ‘Aliens’-sampling track from Detroit-indebted techno outfit Syzygy gets the reissue treatment.

Sacramento, CA duo Blank Gloss’s third album, Cornered, is an exquisite statement of pop ambient starkness, an album that oscillates between lush beauty and spare melancholy. It follows from their 2021 debut for Kompakt, Melt, an album that saw Morgan Fox (piano, synths) and Patrick Hills (guitar) aligned, loosely, with the cosmic pastorale of the ‘ambient Americana’ movement. Cornered feels like a significant step forward, though – by peeling back the layers of their music, they’ve revealed both its restful core and its solemn gravitas. It is unendingly lovely, but with something disquieting at its centre.

Cornered was recorded quickly, over two days in December 2020. There’s nothing rushed or haphazard about the album, though; everything has its place, with each sonic element contributing profoundly to these nine miniature dioramas. It signals change, quietly but perceptibly, through the way the duo sculpts their material, building out of loose improvisations that morphed into songs. While there was no plan in mind when Blank Gloss settled into the studio, Fox recalls that “right away we realised that things were sounding and feeling a bit different than any of the sessions we had previously.”

That difference can be heard in the increased amount of space Blank Gloss gift to their sound sources. Some of the most moving moments on Cornered come when Fox and Hills strip everything back – see, for example, “Crossing”, which sets pensive piano across a shyly humming drone and quiet arcs of guitar, recalling the driftworks of Roger Eno. Curiously, the album’s distinctive shape and mood develops, at least in part, from a change in instrumentation, with Hills using a MIDI pick-up on his guitar. “This resulted in making things happen a lot quicker,” Fox says. “It also helped create what I think is a bit more sombre, dark feeling to some of the songs.”

Elsewhere, on songs like “Salt”, the piano tussles with flecks of guitar, single tones sent out to mingle with the stars, like Morricone at 16 RPM, while Cornered’s centrepiece, the eleven-minute “No Appetite”, lets long arcs of electronic texture breathe and sigh, tangling together in a cat’s cradle of bliss. Throughout, it feels as though the music is blossoming as you hear it, like watching time-lapse footage of flora in bloom. But perhaps the most seductive thing about Cornered is the sense you get, listening, that the music was something unexpected, a visitation. “It almost felt like we weren’t dictating where the music went and how it sounded,” Fox agrees. “We were just there in a room together in December and these sounds were happening, and we were lucky enough to be recording the process.”

Cornered, das dritte Album des kalifornischen Duos Blank Gloss aus Sacramento, ist ein exquisites Statement von pop ambienter Krassheit, ein Album, das zwischen üppiger Schönheit und sparsamer Melancholie oszilliert. Es folgt ihrem 2021er Debüt für Kompakt, Melt, einem Album, auf dem sich Morgan Fox (Klavier, Synthesizer) und Patrick Hills (Gitarre) locker an der kosmischen Pastorale der „Ambient Americana“-Bewegung ausrichteten. Cornered fühlt sich jedoch wie ein bedeutender Schritt nach vorne an – indem sie die Schichten ihrer Musik abschälen, haben sie sowohl ihren ruhigen Kern als auch ihre feierliche Schwere offenbart. Es ist unendlich schön, aber mit etwas Beunruhigendem in seiner Mitte.

Cornered wurde relativ schnell aufgenommen, über zwei Tage im Dezember 2020. Es klingt jedoch nichts überstürzt oder willkürlich an diesem Album; alles hat seinen Platz, wobei jedes Klangelement einen wesentlichen Beitrag zu diesen neun Miniaturdioramen leistet. Es signalisiert Veränderung, leise, aber wahrnehmbar, durch die Art und Weise, wie das Duo sein Material formt und aus losen Improvisationen aufbaut, die sich in Songs verwandeln. Als Blank Gloss sich im Studio niederließen, gab es zwar keinen Plan, aber Fox erinnert sich: „Uns war sofort klar, dass sich die Dinge etwas anders anhörten und anfühlten als bei allen vorherigen Sessions.“

Dieser Unterschied ist in der größeren Menge an Raum zu hören, die Blank Gloss ihren Klangquellen bietet. Einige der bewegendsten Momente auf Cornered kommen, wenn Fox und Hills alles zurücknehmen – siehe zum Beispiel „Crossing“, wo ein nachdenkliches Klavier über einen schüchtern summenden Drone und leise Gitarrenloops setzt und an die Driftworks von Roger Eno erinnert. Seltsamerweise entwickelt sich die unverwechselbare Form und Stimmung des Albums zumindest teilweise aus einer Änderung der Instrumentierung, bei der Hills einen MIDI-Tonabnehmer an seiner Gitarre verwendet. „Dies führte dazu, dass die Dinge viel schneller abliefen“, sagt Fox. „Es hat auch dazu beigetragen, einigen der Songs ein etwas düstereres, dunkleres Gefühl zu verleihen.“ An anderer Stelle, bei Songs wie „Salt“, spielt das Klavier mit Gitarrenfetzen, einzelne Töne werden ausgesandt, um sich mit den Sternen zu vermischen, wie Morricone bei 16 U/min, während Cornereds Herzstück, das elfminütige „No Appetite“, lange Bögen schlägt, elektronische Texturen atmet und seufzt, um sich in einem Katzenkörbchen der Glückseligkeit zu verheddern. Während des Hörens fühlt es sich an, als ob die Musik blüht, als würde man sich Zeitrafferaufnahmen von blühenden Pflanzen ansehen. Aber das Verführerischste an Cornered ist vielleicht das Gefühl, das man beim Zuhören bekommt, dass die Musik etwas Unerwartetes war, eine Heimsuchung. „Es fühlte sich fast so an, als hätten WIR nicht diktiert, wohin die Musik geht und wie sie klingt“, stimmt Fox zu. „Wir waren just im Dezember zusammen in einem Raum, als diese Geräusche passierten, und wir hatten das Glück, dass die Aufnahme mitlief.”

Recorded at the height of the global pandemic, and at a time when remote communication was becoming increasingly prevalent, "Choreological Exchanges" is part of Hastings Of Malawi's continuing investigations into the medium of communication itself. Prior to telephony becoming digital, all phone calls were routed through mechanical telephone exchanges, and the majority of the sounds on side one are the sounds of these exchanges and some of the voices of the engineers who worked with them.

Hastings Of Malawi make strange records and this one is no exception although it has a more linear narrative structure in opposition to what critics have described as their Dadaist approach. Their records certainly resist genre classification and do not really fall into the category of music. Hastings Of Malawi have themselves described previous records as films without light, radio plays and as poems. This one is a dance - a dance that takes place within the chain, or pipe, that is brain - mouth - telephone - telephone exchange - telephone - ear - brain.

"It is a dance record but not in the way that these are usually understood. An invitation to dance appears twelve minutes in on the first side. It is a dance within the wires, movement around noise used as a sculptural material rather than unwanted signals and a joyful exploration of sonic materiality. The second side begins with the voice of a telephone engineer, who states that in the top floor switch room of the exchange is the only vestige of human control. Is this top floor switch room the human brain? The sounds on this side, float between the mechanical telephone exchange and the body where the messages are created and interpreted - it is an exploration of the relationship between thought and the material devices in which telephone sound is propagated and transformed. Side two ends with a long list of randomly generated words created by digital voice synthesis." - HOM

This is the first time ever Har Mar's breakout 2nd album is available on vinyl. Just in time for the 20th anniversary of its original release. This is the album that contain electro pop classics such as Power Lunch (feat. Beth Ditto) and EZ Pass. The album features collaborations with members of The Faint and Busy Signals. This LP also contains two vinyl-only bonus tracks, "Brothers and Sisters" and "EZ Pass (Mint Royale Remix.)." The artwork was re-imagined by Project Dimmel, who designed the original cover and layout back in the day, and the jacket cover is embossed for an extra-cool tactile feel! It was remastered for vinyl by Jesse Mangum at The Glow.
The inner sleeve contains new liner notes by Sean Tillmann and a bunch of fun pictures. TRACKLIST: 1. Intro 2. Power Lunch (feat. Beth Ditto) 3. Elephant Walk (feat. Clark Baechle and Tiny E) 4. We Could Be Heavy 5. You Can Feel Me 6. H.A.R.M.A.R. (feat. Beth Ditto) 7. One Dirty Minute (feat. Dirty Preston) 8. No Chorus 9. Let’s Get This Party Kickin’ 10. Freedom Summer 11. Love Jam No. 1 12. EZ Pass 13. Brothers and Sisters 14. EZ Pass (Mint Royale Remix)