Cerca:people on process

Faitiche welcomes a new artist: Christina Kubisch belongs to the first generation of sound artists. Her practice ranges from performances, concerts, to works with video and visual art, but she is best known for her sound installations and electro-acoustic compositions.

TUNING brings together three pieces by Christina Kubisch from different periods of her oeuvre. What they have in common is the way they transform sound phenomena originally considered “non-music” into compositions.

Jan Jelinek: Gaming in Silence (2024) is the most recent work on this compilation. It’s a collage of electromagnetic waves, voice, and abstract sound textures. How did this combination come about?

Christina Kubisch: Gaming was commissioned as a fixed-media composition for the Sound Dome at ZKM Karlsruhe. Since Resonances: The Electromagnetic Bodies Project (2005), I’ve been making recordings in the old and new server rooms at the ZKM and in their permanent collection of historical computer games. Computer games like Asteroids (Atari, 1979) and Poly-Play (VEB Polytechnik, 1986) have specially generated analogue electromagnetic waves that interest me in particular on account of their density, rhythms and textures. I originally studied painting and to me the work of composition often feels like painting an abstract picture. I alter my source material as little as possible, layering and overlapping until a distinctive sound space emerges. In recent pieces, I sometimes combine magnetic waves with field recordings or live instruments. In Gaming it’s my recording of a Chinese song about silence.

JJ: Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004) is a recording from your Electrical Walks series. Here we should give a brief explanation of one of your best known works: participants in an Electrical Walk move through public spaces wearing prepared headphones that allow them to receive electromagnetic waves from their surroundings – for example from security gates, ATMs or neon signs. They discover a situation that normally is inaudible to the human ear and they can actively shape it by choreographing their movements. I really admire this piece, not least because there’s no clear dividing line between participants and artist. What exactly do we hear in Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004)?

CK: With this early work, I wanted to understand what is heard by people participating in an Electrical Walk in the same place but moving in different ways. The Spanish composer Miguel Alvarez-Fernàndez and I set off from opposite ends of a major shopping street in Madrid, met briefly in the middle, and then continued to the end. We both recorded our walks and I then layered them over one another. You might call it a work of electromagnetic conceptualism.

JJ: Diapason (2009 version) is an installation that plays a composition based on sounds from fifteen tuning forks. This setting is audible in the recording: there’s no dramatic arc, no beginning or end – instead, it recalls a piece of aleatoric music focussing on the decay phase. How did you come to make this work and could you tell us something about your compositional method?

CK: Diapason is part of a series of three pieces that deal with “non-instruments” or instruments that no longer exist: electrical mine bells used to send signals to the workers underground; a historical glass harmonica originally used for medicinal purposes; and tuning forks that were used by doctors to test people’s hearing. All of these methods are no longer in use. The sound of the tuning forks, audible only if held close to the ear, was recorded at the electronic studio at Berlin’s Technical University in such a way that even their decay remained audible. The frequencies range between 64 and 2048 Hertz and they can be adjusted at micro-intervals using small movable weights. The sequence and the duration of the pauses are dictated by chance and were not defined in advance. The 2009 version was created for an installation in the historic Holy Cross Church (Korskirken) in Bergen. Visitors could enter and leave the space at any time, deciding for themselves where and for how long they wished to listen to the sounds played back over an array of small loudspeakers placed on the floor of the apse.

Credits:

Gaming in Silence: commission of the ZKM/Hertzlab, Karlsruhe 2023
elektronic sound processing: Tom Thiel
sound engineering and mixing: Eckehard Güther

Diapason: produced at Elektronisches Studio of TU Berlin
rearrangement: Eckehard Güther

Christina Kubisch, published by Edition Christina Kubisch / Random Musick Publishing

image front: Transitionen 2021 by C. Kubisch, sonagrams of electronic waves (courtesy: Galerie Mazzoli Berlin)
image back: Diapason Tuning Fork, property of Folkmar Hein, Photo: Archiv Christina Kubisch

design by Tim Tetzner
mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi
Thanks to Miguel Álvarez-Fernández, Folkmar Hein, Dominik Kautz and Mario Mazzoli

Following Parnell March’s Back Bar Grooves EP in February and November’s release of the Dust Tears (lead song from Sarah/Shaun’s debut) remixes, Edinburgh’s Hobbes Music label returns with a second EP of dream pop from husband-and-wife duo Sarah/Shaun (pronounced simply Sarah Shaun), alias Sarah and Shaun McLachlan (pronounced McLochlun), who wooed hearts and wowed critics with debut EP ‘It’s True What They Say?’ last year.

‘It’s True What They Say?’ attracted fans across the board: Artist Of The Week in The Scotsman, rapturous reviews from The Skinny and Tokyo's Ban Ban Ton Ton blog, BBC 6Music airplay courtesy of Nemone (Mary Anne Hobbs' Morning Show), more radio play from Radio Scotland's Roddy Hart & Vic Galloway, plus Simone Butler (Primal Scream) and Jim Sclavunos (Bad Seeds) via their respective Soho Radio shows, not forgetting ringing endorsements from the likes of David Holmes, Youth, Kevin Bales (Spiritualized), Brent Rademaker (Beachwood Sparks) and Julian Corrie (Franz Ferdinand).

They played gigs supporting Glasgow's huge Glasvegas, at festivals (Kendall Calling, Dunbar Music, Hidden Door), plus a slew of venues across the Scottish capital, ending the year with a trio of shows supporting Glaswegian 80s pop legends The Bluebells at Aberdeen’s Tunnels, Dunfermline’s PJ Molloys and Edinburgh’s Liquid Rooms, while The List magazine tipped them among their Ones To Watch For 2025, with journalist Fiona Shepherd suggesting they were “blending the starry-eyed pop of Sonny & Cher with the electronic experimentation of Chris & Cosey.”

Very much the companion piece to the debut EP but arriving a full twelve months later, Someone’s Ghost is emblematic of the duo’s desire not to rush things or release anything half-baked.

“I’ve always wanted to create the perfect pop record and I do really feel that we’ve achieved that with this one,” says Shaun. And he’s clearly not the only person who thinks so.

REVIEWS, FEEDBACK ETC:

"I LOVE that! Dreamy dreamy pop." ROY MOLLOY (Marvellous Crane/Alex Cameron) on BLAST RADIO, Sydney
“the Scottish music scene’s cream of the cool... buzzy drum beats, high, distant chimes, and heavenly electronics…. very ethereal.” THE SKINNY

"Listening to Sarah/Shaun is like eavesdropping on a noir dreampop, long-distance phone call between them both, across two separate sonic locations. On this stunning 4-song EP, Sarah’s voice, effortlessly mesmerising, draws you into these big beautiful and haunting passages of perfect dream-pop. All beautifully produced in a multi-layered-scape of low-fi analogue textures, epic cinematic crescendos, intense electro-pulse grooves and warped psycho-pop guitar riffs. Within the songs lurk a sense of unresolved emotions, longing and pathos. There are shades of classic Lee Hazelwood & Nancy Sinatra but also Post-Punk Electronica and Beach House. But what a unique sound they’ve created of their own. I love it" DAVID MCCLUSKEY (The Bluebells)
"Absolutely beautiful" SEAN JOHNSTON (A Love From Outer Space)
"Lovely stuff here! Total quality." MARTYN 'MASH' HENDERSON
"Ooooh. Everything the last record promised is here. Well done" GEORGE T aka George Demure (Accident Machine)
"Vince clark Era Depeche Mode in places" KEVIN BALES (Spiritualized)
"Sounds cool. Well done" PETE KEMBER (Sonic Boom, Spacemen 3)
"Glorious, it (Debbie Harry) grabs hold of you and doesn't let go." IAIN DAWSON aka RAVECHILD (Everyone Wants To Play The Hits Podcast)

SOMEONE’S GHOST

Born out of an incredibly anxious, stressful time, the songwriting process for these recordings has been something of a personal tonic for Shaun…

“There was a period when I was having nightmares,” he reveals. “Apparently I was saying there was someone in the room, I was talking to that person and Sarah was seeing all this while I was still asleep.

So, I was thinking that this was my ghost. I started writing songs because I was going through something and I was dealing with something and writing songs was a comfort. My ghost was a comfort, whether it was real or not. The idea of it was a comfort.”

“I firmly believe that everyone has someone who watches over them but all of the songs are essentially about being there for someone,” he says. “Everybody needs someone but also everyone needs to stay real and keep what you have, keep it close, never let it go. If you don’t have it, continue to tell people you’re there for them. It’s about loving and hoping people will be good to you in return.”

While Shaun took the songwriting lead on Filter Of Love and EP closer The Sound Which Stresses The Sound Of My Ears, Debbie Harry was originally instrumentally conceived by producer Jaguar Eyes, alias Ali Chisholm, later lyrically completed by Shaun, and the EP’s lead track, Anhedonia, and one of its stand-outs (much like Starbed on the debut) was conceived by Sarah, as a result of experiencing a bit of a spiritual epiphany of her own.

“When I first heard the word Anhedonia, I didn't know what it meant but when I found out I thought about it quite a bit. How sad it would be to have no enjoyment in anything,” she explains. “This song is really about my own personal beliefs. When I have been down, that's one of the things that helps me the most. It talks about trying to make amends but realising, for some things, you can't. But I think with any kind of faith comes hope… which is always a good thing.”

A record about hope, truth, honesty, a belief in something bigger than oneself… and all set to a soundtrack that wouldn’t feel out of place in a David Lynch or Eighties feature film. What more could anyone ask for, really?

There’s equally a desire to offer something universal and positive to anyone who tunes in. The labels for the 12” edition reveal the dual mantras “Who just wants to survive?” and “It’s about time to live a little”, with both messages also engraved in each record’s run-out grooves. T-shirts accompanying debut EP It’s True What They Say? bore the slogan “Kill Them With Kindness” - leading caps intentional. Shaun carries the acronym KTWK everywhere he plays, as a reminder: it’s stitched into his guitar strap. And this particular wee pebble has already caused a few ripples: people have been approaching him at gigs to acknowledge their appreciation and respect for it.

"We feel we have made an honest, open, colourful, body of work,” say the duo. “We hope to go out and play the songs with the guys (our band) and then potentially make more records. We are taking things as they come. Everything has been organic so far, after all. We are looking forward to whatever this brings."

There’s no direct English translation for the word “hiraeth”. In the Welsh language, it describes a form of longing for an intangible something, somewhere or someone that no longer exists. Sofie Birch and Antonina Nowacka draw on the concept to guide their second collaborative album, a suite of vulnerable, open-hearted improvisations and reflections that attempt to grasp an image of the past that’s chimeric, dissolving almost as soon as it materializes. The duo’s process follows the same distant beacon; unlike Languoria, their critically acclaimed debut, Hiraeth is, at heart, an acoustic record, informed by in-person improvisations with voices and string instruments that gesture to an era before computers, AI and DAWs. It’s just as lush, but Hiraeth is warmer and more muted than its predecessor.
Nowacka and Birch conceived the album in the wake of a slew of collaborative live concerts, spurred on by serendipitous improvisations and an interest in paring down their setup. Unsound arranged a retreat in Sokołowsko, an idyllic village nestled in the verdant hills of Southern Poland, close to the Czech border. Sokołowsko surrounds a large ruined sanatorium that’s rumored to have inspired Thomas Mann’s 1924 novel The Magic Mountain, and has long been a magnet for artists. The two took the opportunity to rethink their approach completely, arriving with just a guitar, a zither and a portable Nagra reel-to-reel machine. Recording directly to tape, they sketched out ideas with just their voices and instruments, reflecting their surroundings without being distracted or mediated by modern technology.
“We wanted to get away from screens as much as possible,” says Birch, “to bring to the world something vulnerable and honest. Without advance preparation, every day we went out into the open air, finding places to sit, during sunset or the midday sun. We discovered new tunings on our instruments, picked up a melody, and started the machine, playing over
and over till we got a take.” In the autumn, they met again in a Copenhagen studio, sparingly and carefully layering old synths and organs to add more depth without muddying the mix.
Both Nowacka and Birch sing throughout, their voices threading the acoustic instruments and tangling with each other, almost becoming one. But it’s the environment of Sokołowsko, “the birds and the light, even the wind playing against the harps,” that’s woven into the music’s lining. Affected by time spent meditating and in nature, as well as the fact that Birch was pregnant whilst recording, the album feels alive and remarkably present. Even the sound quality of the tape machine gives Hiraeth a tactile, organic quality, as Nowacka puts it, “like being in a warm bath.”

They still have the raw recordings from Sokołowsko on old reels, physical souvenirs of their time spent making music in a “habitat for intuitive songs, a little ecosystem, alive and spirited.” The outmoded gear and remote setting helped the duo disengage from the modern world for a few moments and imagine an existence that’s been lost to time and nominal progress. With digital technology receding into the background, Nowacka and Birch had space to make “intuitive connections with frequencies and people,” as Birch explains. Hiraeth is a testament not to nostalgia, but to the power of kinship.

Artist and multi-instrumentalist Flaer looks to the landscape to explore pastoral melancholy on debut release, Preludes. It is released in a second edition black vinyl, with an alternate cover artwork.

Ensconced in his family home in rural Leicestershire in the early months of 2020, painter and musician Realf Heygate (b. 1994) picked up his childhood cello for the first time in several years and began to play. Setting himself parameters to only record onto 4-track tape with acoustic instruments – cello, piano and acoustic guitar – he assembled a suite of instrumental compositions that form the basis of Preludes, his debut album as Flaer and the inaugural release on Odda Recordings.

Channelling the tension and unease between the pastoral idyll of the English countryside and the darkness which lurks beneath the surface, the mini-album draws inspiration from the analogue aesthetic of 1970s folk horror films, weaving field recordings of birdsong, church bells and the natural environment into chimerical melodies that reflect on Heygate’s childhood experiences of rural England.

“It was really important not to isolate the sound from its environment,” he explains, describing the compositional and recording process as “site-specific”. Developed over a series of intuitive musical enquiries, the mini-album’s uncanny quality emerges from combining raw demo takes with overdubs of almost orchestral grandeur.

Heygate points to the final track as indicative of the work as a whole: “‘Follow’ really is the mantra for the release and embodies the practical approach I was taking to music making: not to force the music but see where it takes you.”

As a painter, Heygate’s practice takes artefacts through sequences of reproduction that embrace the fluctuating materiality of the copy. Since obtaining a degree in Fine Art from Central Saint Martins in 2017, he has exhibited solo at Peter von Kant and Springseason galleries in London, and has participated in group shows at Saatchi Gallery, Cob Gallery and Senesi Contemporanea.

Describing his artistic practice as one of self-erasure, music instead provides Heygate with a more personal and autobiographical outlet. Where the two worlds combine is on Preludes’ striking artwork, which features paintings of 13th century stone carvings from the font of the church in the town where he grew up.

Speaking to a time where people were connected to the land in a more profound way, each symbol is assigned to a track on the album, which Heygate likens to giving them a title.

“To add that one juxtaposition might open a whole new interpretation or language that might be hard to find otherwise,” he explains.“Over time it might reveal itself to you, which is why I'm excited about it being released. To throw them out there and see what comes of it.”

The next chapter in Axis Expressionist Series. A collection of vinyl and limited digital releases, curated by Millsart, an alias of Jeff Mills, of his most eclectic and transcendent compositions that derive from his Every Dog Has Its Day project as well as new unreleased works.



Vernacular creations that fall off from the "other side" of the Electronic Music tree, this project is designed for the experienced Techno music listeners, and its goal is to reflect upon the pure artistry of the craft of storytelling. A realization between music and life. Whereas "dancing" is the goal of Dance Music, the goal of this music is about "reflecting on the complexity and simplification of life". Soundtracks for people in their evolutionary process.

Nurtured on 90s alternative indie, lucky break's music melds the emotional directness of Fiona Apple, the wide-eyed warmth of Bedouine and the Americana-leaning alt rock of Lucinda Williams. Fans of Alvvays, Hole, Phoebe Bridgers and The Breeders will find familiar touchstones here. lucky break is a hand-drawn cartoon character and a girl with a guitar, an ever-expanding container for the feelings that come with making art. She can be very sad and very joyful, living somewhere between worlds. On her debut for Fire Records, made it!, lucky break builds a new world for her character to inhabit. made it! collects songs written between the ages of 19 and 23, documenting the uncertainty of early adulthood, the end of a first major relationship and the process of learning to stand up for yourself. Tracks like "Crush" pair sharp lyrical insight with big drums and crisp bass, while "Head Down" uses bright, dreamy guitars to explore themes of politics, consumer culture and moral complacency. Confessional, direct and emotionally precise, lucky break's songwriting is matched by a versatile and expressive vocal performance that shifts across moods and styles throughout the record. Produced with Elliott Woodbridge in Burbank, made it! is a playful, self-assured debut from a young artist who has already found her voice and is stepping confidently into a bright future. Digisleeve-CD and coloured Vinyl-LP w/ dlc available!

Nurtured on 90s alternative indie, lucky break's music melds the emotional directness of Fiona Apple, the wide-eyed warmth of Bedouine and the Americana-leaning alt rock of Lucinda Williams. Fans of Alvvays, Hole, Phoebe Bridgers and The Breeders will find familiar touchstones here. lucky break is a hand-drawn cartoon character and a girl with a guitar, an ever-expanding container for the feelings that come with making art. She can be very sad and very joyful, living somewhere between worlds. On her debut for Fire Records, made it!, lucky break builds a new world for her character to inhabit. made it! collects songs written between the ages of 19 and 23, documenting the uncertainty of early adulthood, the end of a first major relationship and the process of learning to stand up for yourself. Tracks like "Crush" pair sharp lyrical insight with big drums and crisp bass, while "Head Down" uses bright, dreamy guitars to explore themes of politics, consumer culture and moral complacency. Confessional, direct and emotionally precise, lucky break's songwriting is matched by a versatile and expressive vocal performance that shifts across moods and styles throughout the record. Produced with Elliott Woodbridge in Burbank, made it! is a playful, self-assured debut from a young artist who has already found her voice and is stepping confidently into a bright future. Digisleeve-CD and coloured Vinyl-LP w/ dlc available!

A Profound Non-Event, the debut album by Sydney-based three piece Daily Toll, comprises 11 songs traversing three years of forged friendships, collaborative experimentation and a shared love of growing through words and song.

Those attuned to the ever-vibrant Australian underground may already be well familiar with Daily Toll, their consistent live presence since their inception in 2021 embroidered by a handful of (mostly) home-recorded, (mostly) digital self-releases that have steadily accumulated an appreciative following. Initially the project of self taught musician, poet & artist Kata Szász-Komlós(they/them) and Jasper Craig-Adams(he/him), and expended to a three piece with the more recent addition of friend Tom Stephens(he/him), Daily Toll represents the union of three unique creative dispositions, of relationships blooming through the push and pull of creative practice. Mapping the band’s existence through their recorded output is to bear witness to the flux of three people learning to respond to one another and gently ossify into a collective vision that at once calls to mind folk song intimacy, post-punk dynamics and the artful poeticism of an adjacent Flying Nun legacy.

If those earlier recordings reflect a band imagining themselves into being in real time, A Profound Non-Event observes a clear shift in both conviction and approach. Recorded in just three days with Alex Bennett at the purely analogue Sound Recordings studio in Castlemaine and holing up at night in the century old cottage situated beside the studio, sheltering from the late-June wind and rain within walls littered with instruments and microphones, lighting fires to stay warm. Kata describes the experience as defined by “candle light and creative camaraderie”, an idyllic account of a collection of songs that glide with an undeniably warm, easy charm, evidenced in particular in the record’s second half as the tone turns increasingly introspective, the very sound of a cold evening’s drift into night. When contrasted with the moody swirl and sing-song bounce of the opening trio of tracks, there’s clear evidence of a band not simply in the process of becoming, but committed to finding their truth in that process.
Still, if Daily Toll display a reluctance to be wholly defined, then album centerpiece ‘Killincs‘ (positioned in the middle for a reason) might just be their Rosetta Stone. A verbose rumination on unsettled feelings of isolation and longing, exploring the challenges in making peace with one's decisions amidst the uncertainty of an often harsh world and the realisation that some things remain best unresolved - “I have the keys still, but I’ve buried the path”.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

At the core of the creative process behind “HPC” and “Bor3d” lies meta-irony, a quality that permeates much of today’s digital content landscape.

Both tracks are a deliberate attempt to push the sound toward a barely perceptible absurdity and ironic unseriousness in their interpretation of well-familiar styles of dance club music. It is a play with form, expectation, and recognizability — balancing sincerity with sarcastic exaggeration.

Okay
Okay is built around interruption. Voices, fragments of dialogue, yawns, irritation — people seem to step inside the track uninvited. Someone is bored, someone is annoyed, someone tries to stop the flow entirely. Just like in real life, the process is constantly disrupted. The track reflects the experience of being surrounded by opinions, noise, and skepticism — especially the kind that will never be convinced, no matter what you do. “Okay” becomes a quiet, ironic response to this pressure: not agreement, not approval, but endurance. The track continues anyway.

Tripatura
Tripatura is a fictional creature — a warped echo of cryptid mythology. In this narrative, Tripatura doesn’t simply exist, it hunts. Once it finds you, it drags you into an endless trip with no exit point. Time stretches, perception blurs, and the track itself becomes the trap. Its prolonged, unresolved ending mirrors the experience of being stuck inside a loop that refuses closure. Tripatura doesn’t rush. It lingers, slowly pulling you deeper, until the trip no longer feels temporary.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

STRICTLY LIMITED TO 100 COPIES ARTIST PROJECT After discovering techno at La Concrète, invited by my girlfriend, it was a revelation, and I very quickly felt the urge to contribute in my own way. My intention has been to create tracks infused with positive energy (even if the creative process sometimes leads into slightly darker corners of music). Still, I realized—rather late—the importance of the musical genre known as “techno.” Here is my reflection on it: Nothing is closer to village music (with everything that implies among indigenous peoples, for example—important and respected moments of communion) than techno. On one side, you have basic organic instruments and the voice; on the other, the most advanced technology available. But fundamentally, the difference is only superficial—the essence is the same: a guide, and people who participate intuitively, ultimately finding or discovering their own inner paths… individuation. Techno represents the re-emergence of a kind of initiation rite that had been missing in the West for quite some time—a sort of continuation of Woodstock, more spread out over time but just as powerful from a societal perspective. This release is my contribution to that revival, in the same way a villager might feel free to join trance music with a simple stick that sounds right, or a drum—something intuitive that all our ancestors must have practiced naturally at one point or another. In short, nothing pretentious—just something made with heart

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

Arizona-based producer Kareem Ali returns with Renewal, his second EP on the French label Noire & Blanche, a luminous blend of deep house, jazz, and Afrofuturism that captures both personal and collective transformation. Praised by Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, and Boiler Room for his visionary sound, Ali continues to expand the language of modern electronic music with a project rooted in emotion, movement, and hope.

Across five tracks, Feel Everything All At Once, On My Heart, Procession, Wake Up My People, and Want, Kareem Ali invites listeners to experience the full spectrum of feeling. Opening with the warm, jazz-infused pulse of Feel Everything All At Once, the EP unfolds into the hypnotic rhythms of Procession and the heartfelt refrain of On My Heart. The soaring horns and urgent groove of Wake Up My People capture the project’s spirit of resilience, before closing on Want, a meditative reflection on desire and renewal.

Drawing inspiration from Sun Ra, Miles Davis, and Underground Resistance, Kareem Ali continues his pursuit of what he calls Future Black Music — a sound that merges the spiritual depth of jazz with the cosmic potential of electronic music. With Renewal, he offers not just an EP, but a vision: music as liberation, rebirth, and awakening.

The new album by the collective that for
over 25 years has been among the most
representative names of the Italian dance
and electronic scene worldwide.
“BLOOOM”, this is the title of the new release,
will be available in all traditional stores and
on digital platforms starting January 16.
Set against the soundscapes that have become
the Planet Funk trademark, the lyrics by Dan
Black attempt to give voice to a fragile and
contradictory condition of our time: an
intensified sensitivity that, instead of
turning into openness and connection, often
becomes emotional overload. A generation
constantly overwhelmed by excessive stimuli,
relentless information, anxieties, and fears,
called upon to find its way in a world thaoffers neither pauses nor silence. In this paradox, sensitivity is no longer just a natural gift, but
a daily effort: staying open and receptive without being overwhelmed, trying to preserve a human and
vulnerable gaze in order, despite everything, to fully appreciate life and the present moment.
The single’s artwork—like that of the album—curated by Nationhood, visually conveys this tension: the
distant sirens of a city that amplifies feelings of disorientation and loneliness even when we are
surrounded by thousands of people.
“BLOOOM”, preceded by the single “FEEL EVERYTHING”, arrives at the end of an intense, creative year
full of music, which saw Alex Neri (DJ, keyboards, synthesizers), Marco Baroni (keyboards, piano,
programming), Dan Black (vocals and guitar), and Alex Uhlmann (vocals and guitar) engaged between
studio work, collaborations, and live performances in Italy and abroad. A journey that today
transforms into new energy, into an even more open vision oriented toward the future.
Exactly one year ago, PLANET FUNK released “Nights in White Satin”, a single that reached the top
positions of the radio charts and launched a season rich in concerts and DJ sets in Italy and around
the world. The subsequent “I Get a Rush”, the collaboration with Alfa and Manu Chao on the remix of
their hit “A me mi piace”, and the track “È Naturale” together with Francesca Michielin, confirmed
Planet Funk’s ability to renew themselves and engage with different musical worlds while always
remaining true to their own identity.
Throughout this journey, music has inevitably intertwined with life. The memory of Sergio Della Monica
and Domenico “Gigi” Canu, pillars and founding souls of the PLANET FUNK project, is a living part of
this new chapter. Their vision, creative spirit, and way of understanding music continue to be a
constant guide, a deep root from which new ideas and new directions can grow.
“BLOOOM” is also this: a personal and artistic blossoming that, starting from the legacy left by
Sergio and Gigi, transforms into a living process of growth, metamorphosis, and discovery. An album
that does not look back with nostalgia, but forward with awareness, momentum, and a desire for
renewal.
Founded in 1999, for over 25 years PLANET FUNK have represented one of the most important, solid, and
influential realities in the international electronic music scene. Born from the meeting of Souled
Out! (Domenico “GG” Canu and Sergio Della Monica) and Kamasutra (Marco Baroni and Alex Neri), and
following their debut with “Non Zero Sumness” in 2002 (a gold record and a turning point for the
band), PLANET FUNK have managed to reinvent themselves over time while maintaining a unique sonic
identity. This has led them to collaborate with internationally renowned artists, deliver iconic
performances around the world, create soundtracks and international advertising campaigns, and
continue to demonstrate constant creative vitality

In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.

Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.

The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.

At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.

Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."

Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.

In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.

Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.

The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.

At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.

Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."

Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.

In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.

Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.

The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.

At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.

Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."

Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.

Over the past decade, East London artist Kojey Radical has cemented himself as one of the most creative and unique voices in British music. His debut album Reason to Smile (2022) was released to critical acclaim, and saw him emerge as one of the defining voices in UK culture. Now, the 32-year-old readies to release his second album Don’t Look Down.

“I wanted to make this album more personal and more honest,” he says, “we have to be able to accept that the messenger has flaws and all.

16-tracks long, Don’t Look Down, set for release on 19th September 2025, is a musically rich and deeply introspective reflection on the shifting tides, lows and joys that have passed through his life since his emergence into the public eye.

Sonically, the album provides the most experimental and eclectic music of his career, with influences ranging from golden age Hip Hop to disco, grime to Indie, Jazz to Ska. Together, these strings combine to give a pertinent insight into Kojey’s inner world, and a timestamp documenting the feelings, emotions and experiences that arise when many reach the milestone of their 30s.

“When you’re younger, certain ages seem so grown,” he says, “you feel like you’re supposed to have your life together and all figured out by 30. Then especially when you're in the spotlight you feel extra pressure to have it figured out because so many people are looking towards you.”

Don’t Look Down follows debut album Reason to Smile (2022). A critical success, it landed at No.11 on the UK Album Charts and was nominated for the Mercury Prize as well as two MOBO Awards. In the following year came a nomination for Best New Artist at 2023 BRIT Awards and Best Contemporary Song at the Ivor Novello Awards. He toured across the UK, as well as hitting the festival circuit.

This sense of growth was not limited to music. Kojey was tapped by the British Fashion Council to host the 2023 and 2024 editions of The Fashion Awards as his stock in music and wider culture continued to rise.

The album he says, is a reflection of “the experiences I’ve had over the past few years. That shaped the direction I took going forward. It’s given me the opportunity to tell new stories from newer perspectives. It was liberating, and it was very necessary to keep me in love with the process and to keep making music.”

The result is his most innovative album yet, a project where a sense of profound personal interrogation and introspection dance in union with the rich musical tapestry. Don’t Look Down is a story of purpose lost and then found, of what happens in the aftermath of achieving your childhood dreams, and the ranging flux of emotions that rise to the surface once the music stop