The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.
Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.
Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.
Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”
Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.
The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.
The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.
Has the American myth finally run its course?
Buscar:people on process
The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.
Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.
Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.
Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”
Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.
The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.
The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.
Has the American myth finally run its course?
Matter-of-factly, Lycox exclaims "Yaaahh" right at the beginning. That's an affirmation but in times of distress it can also mean resignation, something like "Yeah, whatever". Lycox says he was only freestyling though. Then the bassline appears. Elastic, expressive, full-bodied. And it's not even present the whole time. He was "trying to develop a new formula for the Kuduro beat."
Songs for the club? Most certainly. Different sensibilities, one same focused mind. Lycox evolves within tradition, he has mastered the groove, the ambience, the right tones. Simply called "Energia", the last track circles above wistfully, menacing but maybe just promising some sort of action. With a few drops one could almost switch over to a parallel universe of old school Trance, a reference that feels as alien here as maybe this track feels to someone for whom the standard Afro House sound represents modern African music.
These songs pile up in a threshold balanced between styles, sensations, maybe in the middle of life itself. Such a concentration of energy is bound to need release and that comes figuratively through details in the music reaching out to receptive ears. "To Bem Loko" explicitly tries to "literally drive everyone crazy on the dancefloor." Once again Lycox provides vocals, as in "Edson no Uige", about a friend who embarked on a trip to the Angolan province of Uige and came back speaking only the local dialect known as lingala. A nod to tradition, very emotional, without compromising complex arrangements. Consequently, we the listeners are kept believing there is still enough space for a bright future. To ears accustomed to Lycox productions the title "Contemporaneo" (opening of side B) reads like a redundancy, then.
Maybe this music can never be quite as massive as other Afro styles. Without sounding pretentious, it avoids simplistic patterns, it demands a bit more mental processing while it certainly aims to loosen the limbs. Universal in vocation, underground at the core, Lycox definitely calls it Batida but for some it is still Ghetto Music. Like DJ Veiga said when describing a previous release for Príncipe, Ghetto is home, though. Lycox adds it is a foundation of personality. "Few in our community will recognize your work when you come from the same environment, but once you establish your reputation outside of the neighbourhood and even outside of the country, people will look at you differently, as if you were a star."
Oakland's Naked Roommate have been slinking around the Bay Area lighting up stages, shaking asses & confounding listeners since 2018, when the group - originally just the duo of real-life partners Andy Jordan & Amber Sermeno (both formerly of The World) - self-released a cassette of demos (2018's "Naked Roommate"). Members Michael "Mig" Zamora & Alejandra Alcala (Blues Lawyer) joined soon after to augment the sound & live band with their proper full-length album "Do The Duvet", co-released in September of 2020 via UK label Upset! The Rhythm & Trouble In Mind. 2024 finds the lineup expanded even further to incorporate the horn section of Geoff Saba & Jeanne Oss on tenor & alto saxophones as well as percussion & marimba as the band readies their sophomore effort, the dizzyingly ecstatic "Pass The Loofah" Recorded by members Andy Jordan & Mig Zamora from 2021-2023 as time & restrictions allowed, "Pass The Loofah" retains the wild energy of their debut, but leans into the rhythmic throbs perpetuated by forbears like Kid Creole & The Coconuts, Lizzy Mercier Descloux & ESG; the signature sound of UK's On-U Sound & NYC's 99 Records, but with a decidedly West Coast irreverence & a knack for absurdist exposition. Make no mistake, this is music designed to make your body MOVE & Naked Roommate won't stop until they 've made sure every ass is shook. The band freely incorporates elements of the dancier side of post-punk (think A Certain Ratio or Liquid Liquid) as well as disco, funk, & house music. However, the group's uplifting melodicism belies a deeper subtext, understanding the importance of the sense of community of dance music & the culture surrounding it and leaning into a Neo-socialist lyrical context. Shit is fucked, & we get thru it by helping one another & acknowledging & addressing the failures of disaster Capitalism & tech-bro hegemony (a state the band is all-too familiar with, living in The Bay Area) Take the first single "Bus"; a four-on-the-floor banger & salutary paeon to the ups & downs of the people's transport that throbs & pulses with a late-night sashay (and a bridge that launches the tune into the stratosphere). Elsewhere, "Fight Flight "s funky horn stabs and Sermeno's slinky vocals swoon over Numan-esque synth squiggles that are fortified & funkified toward the dance floor. "Broken Whisper " edges into new territor y for the group, adding a Caribbean flavor a'la Kid Creole or The Specials that punctuates the persistent & synthetic beats underneath. Meanwhile instrumental interludes like "Ducky & Viv", "G-Y pt. 1" & "G-Y pt. 2" oscillate into zones of sci-fi meets soap opera soundtracks, sounding not unlike the electronic experiments of UK industrial pioneers Chris & Cosey. Album closer "I Can't Be Found" might be the album's secret weapon; It 's swooning synth melody & processed vocals recall early Daft Punk or MGMT by way of Derrick Carter & The Au Pairs. It 's a beautiful song; perfect for the late night (or early morning) car ride home from the club. "Pass The Loofah" is released worldwide on October 25th, 2024 via Trouble In Mind Records digitally via most DSPs & on black vinyl & limited "disco ball " silver vinyl.
Limited metallic silver/white "disco ball" splatter vinyl available while supplies last.
Oakland's Naked Roommate have been slinking around the Bay Area lighting up stages, shaking asses & confounding listeners since 2018, when the group - originally just the duo of real-life partners Andy Jordan & Amber Sermeno (both formerly of The World) - self-released a cassette of demos (2018's "Naked Roommate"). Members Michael "Mig" Zamora & Alejandra Alcala (Blues Lawyer) joined soon after to augment the sound & live band with their proper full-length album "Do The Duvet", co-released in September of 2020 via UK label Upset! The Rhythm & Trouble In Mind. 2024 finds the lineup expanded even further to incorporate the horn section of Geoff Saba & Jeanne Oss on tenor & alto saxophones as well as percussion & marimba as the band readies their sophomore effort, the dizzyingly ecstatic "Pass The Loofah" Recorded by members Andy Jordan & Mig Zamora from 2021-2023 as time & restrictions allowed, "Pass The Loofah" retains the wild energy of their debut, but leans into the rhythmic throbs perpetuated by forbears like Kid Creole & The Coconuts, Lizzy Mercier Descloux & ESG; the signature sound of UK's On-U Sound & NYC's 99 Records, but with a decidedly West Coast irreverence & a knack for absurdist exposition. Make no mistake, this is music designed to make your body MOVE & Naked Roommate won't stop until they 've made sure every ass is shook. The band freely incorporates elements of the dancier side of post-punk (think A Certain Ratio or Liquid Liquid) as well as disco, funk, & house music. However, the group's uplifting melodicism belies a deeper subtext, understanding the importance of the sense of community of dance music & the culture surrounding it and leaning into a Neo-socialist lyrical context. Shit is fucked, & we get thru it by helping one another & acknowledging & addressing the failures of disaster Capitalism & tech-bro hegemony (a state the band is all-too familiar with, living in The Bay Area) Take the first single "Bus"; a four-on-the-floor banger & salutary paeon to the ups & downs of the people's transport that throbs & pulses with a late-night sashay (and a bridge that launches the tune into the stratosphere). Elsewhere, "Fight Flight "s funky horn stabs and Sermeno's slinky vocals swoon over Numan-esque synth squiggles that are fortified & funkified toward the dance floor. "Broken Whisper " edges into new territor y for the group, adding a Caribbean flavor a'la Kid Creole or The Specials that punctuates the persistent & synthetic beats underneath. Meanwhile instrumental interludes like "Ducky & Viv", "G-Y pt. 1" & "G-Y pt. 2" oscillate into zones of sci-fi meets soap opera soundtracks, sounding not unlike the electronic experiments of UK industrial pioneers Chris & Cosey. Album closer "I Can't Be Found" might be the album's secret weapon; It 's swooning synth melody & processed vocals recall early Daft Punk or MGMT by way of Derrick Carter & The Au Pairs. It 's a beautiful song; perfect for the late night (or early morning) car ride home from the club. "Pass The Loofah" is released worldwide on October 25th, 2024 via Trouble In Mind Records digitally via most DSPs & on black vinyl & limited "disco ball " silver vinyl.
"The Night The Zombies Came is Pixies’ tenth album, if you count their classic 1987 4AD mini LP Come On Pilgrim, and first new music since 2022’s acclaimed Doggerel LP. 13 new songs that find Pixies looking ahead to the most cinematic record of their career. Songwriter, vocalist and guitarist Black Francis explains: “Fragments that are related and juxtaposed with other fragments in other songs. And in a collection of songs in a so-called LP, you end up making a kind of movie.” Druidism, apocalyptic shopping malls, mediaeval themed restaurants, 12th century poetic form, surf rock, gargoyles, bog people, and the distinctive dry drum sound of 1970s era Fleetwood Mac are just some of the disparate wonders that inform the new songs. For the new album recording sessions the band returned to work with producer Tom Dalgety, who drummer David Lovering refers to as “a fifth Pixie” after producing 2016’s Head Carrier, 2019’s Beneath the Eyrie and 2022’s Doggerel. Early on in the recording process at Guilford Sound studio in Vermont, the band noticed the new songs were dividing into two camps: what they came to call the “Dust Bowl Songs” - country-tinged, ballad-esque numbers such as ‘Primrose’ and ‘Mercy Me’, and on the other side, the album’s furious punk numbers such as ‘You’re So Impatient’ and ‘Oyster Beds’. Only ‘Jane (The Night the Zombies Came)’ keeps its feet in both camps — reminiscent of early 60s Phil Spector, the band hitting the sweet spot between mushy and abrasive, it’s a track that Black Francis allegedly likened to being chased by a swarm of bees.
The Night The Zombies Came sessions also saw Pixies welcoming new bass player Emma Richardson (Band Of Skulls) to the line up; the first British band member to join the group. There’s also an expanded role for guitarist Joey Santiago. After contributing his first-ever Pixies lyrics on Doggerel, for the new record Santiago wrote the words to ‘Hypnotised’ by completing a complex lyrical riddle of sorts, known as a sestina.
The Night The Zombies Came is released via BMG on CD, black vinyl"
Somehow, 15 years has passed since I worked on A Colour For Autumn.
This recording was, in many ways, a critical one for me. In some respects, it rounded out a period of work that was focused on a particular marriage of thematics and harmony. Like For Varying Degrees Of Winter, it dwelled on old world impressions of the seasons, something that, in the southern hemisphere, isn’t intrinsically part of our way of approaching place. I think it was this incongruity with my own lived experience that kick started the interest in making these recordings.
The intention had originally been to take Vivaldi head-on , as the holder of the Four Seasons terrain (I jest of course), but shortly after completing this album, it became resoundingly clear that even in the old world, seasonality was a thing that was known ‘then’, and unknowable ‘now’.
Climate change, as a lived experience and not merely as a ‘possibility’, suddenly came into focus with reports flooding in about the climatic dynamics since the turn of the century and events like the Black Saturday fires here in Australia. It felt like, and continues to feel like, seasonality as some predictable measure of our world is relegated to the ‘before’ times. This record is not about these climatic shifts however, more a recognition of how we have used patterns and predictability to guide us over the centuries and perhaps a realisation that the way forward is not the path we have known historically.
Listening back to the record with fresh ears, a process made completely delightful by Stephan Mathieu who has carefully remastered it, I am struck by how minimal some of the structures were. There are moments that strike me as uncharacteristically patient and even generous, allowing one element to hold without interference. I’m grateful to still feel a deep connection to this edition and to the people and places that helped shape it.
I hope you find some sense of your place here. It’s offered with that intention and invitation.
Bobbi Lu is the moniker of Lucy Ryan, born and raised in Oxfordshire in the UK, now living in Bruges after following love a few years ago. As a DIY bedroom producer, she’s released a handful of singles and is now ready with a debut album – ‘Arrow, Four’ – that will be out on 25 October. Drawing inspiration from acts like Radiohead, FKA Twigs, Jockstrap and Saya Grey, Bobbi Lu intertwines piano melodies with deep crunchy bass, electronica and samples, coming together in a dystopian and mysterious sound. As Ryan started gigging, she quickly attracted attention and went from supporting acts like The Haunted Youth and Sylvie Kreusch to playing her own headline shows and amazing festivals like The Great Escape (UK).
‘Arrow, Four’ is a collection of ten songs, written over the course of a few years, the process of each one completely different. “I guess the individual tracks have their own story, but in my head each story is just a symptom of a bigger theme, mostly inspired by the book Future Shock by Alvin Toffler. In it he talks about people’s ability to adapt having essentially a limit, and with growth accelerating could we be overloaded and experience a 'future shock'. And maybe that’s already happening, most notably in the form of mental health struggles.” “It made me think of how progression creates new challenges, an arrow going one way is pulled back by another in the opposite direction. I feel like it’s a topic more relevant than ever, especially with AI most recently. I think I use this topic to fuel my lyrics mainly as a way of forgiving myself and others, in those moments where we struggle and make mistakes, that we're all just doing our best in trying to keep up with a rapidly changing environment.” This is also reflected in the artwork by Maarten Derous. “It ties everything together. He came to me after listening to it and said something that came out for him was fragility, which at the time I completely did not think of. But he nailed it. It’s like, yes do it, be fragile and take it easy, it’s a pretty good answer to stuff being pulled in all directions.”
Limited LEMON Vinyl Edition
Opaque Mango Colored Vinyl. RIYL: Black Milk, Kendrick Lamar, Kamasi Washington, Mos Def, Blood Orange, Milo, Pharcyde, Blackalicious, Anderson Paak. Richmond, Virginia-based artist McKinley Dixon has always used his music as a tool for healing, exploring, and unpacking the Black experience in order to create stories for others like him. For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her, Dixon's debut album on Spacebomb, is the culmination of a journey where heartbreak and introspection challenged him to adapt new ways of communicating physically and mentally, as well as across time and space. The language accessibility aspect of this project draws right back to communication and connecting," Dixon explains. "I think about the messaging, and how this can be a way for another Black person, someone who looks like me, to listen to this and process the past. Everything I've learned about communication for this album culminates with this bigger question about time. Is time linear when you're still healing and processing? Westerners look at time travel as something to conquer or control - it's a colonizer mindset. That's ignoring how time travel can be done through stories and non-verbal communication, and doesn't acknowledge how close indigenous people are to the land and the connections groups have because they've existed somewhere for so long. Storytelling is time travel, it's taking the listener to that place. Quick time travel. Magic." Never relying solely on beats, Dixon taps into a hybrid of jazz and rap, pulling in an array of piercing strings, soulful horns, percussion, and angelic vocalists throughout the album-plus features by Micah James, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon, Pink Siifu, and more. Jazz instrumentals add a level of uncertainty, with the sounds and shifts evoking a lot of emotion and vulnerability. It's an energy he describes as "Pre-Kendrick Lamar To Pimp A Butterfly," the era when rap adopted more live instrumentation. The best way to sum up this album is: I was sad, I was mad, and now I'm alive," Dixon explains. "These things I talk about on the record have had harmful and brilliant effects on my timeline, and have forced me to be cognizant of the fact that living is complex. Rap has allowed me the language to communicate, and be someone who can communicate with people from all over. Knowing how far I've come, I think people will find trust in the message I'm sending."
Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time is a portal into somatic chiaroscuro, aglow with the embers of imperfect memories and smudged with the plumes of internal echoes, which augment in vast, mercurial dimensions. For his third album on RVNG Intl., the British cellist, composer and producer offers a capsule of personal resonance and remembrance, assembled over the past six years. Throb, shiver, arrow of time traces the familiar metallic anatomy and viscous string modulations of his 2020 release skins n slime, while recentering his inner compulsions following a procession of lauded score writing projects, including the films Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022), The Stranger (Thomas M Wright, 2022) and Occupied City (Steve McQueen, 2023). While working on Aftersun, Wells asked Coates how music could signal that someone is going on a trawl through their memory_a question that has stayed with him ever since and fosters a heartbeat running through the record. Throb, shiver, arrow of time is "all about inaccurate transmissions from our memories, overlaid with emotions from other sources," says Coates. The release is imbued with the ache and glow of recollections mulched together, where the guttural dissonance of misremembering is shrouded by strange orbs of sentiment. At the record's inner core is "Shopping centre curfew," a swift yet cavernous track that emerged five years ago when two real world events, both occurring in South London during the pandemic lockdowns, became fused in a dream: the demolition of Elephant and Castle shopping center, and the discussion of a curfew as a real possibility for all men following a violent crime. A strange simultaneity occurred with this piece of music and Coates built the album out from there, a sense of temporal entropy refracting shimmers of lurking convulsions into lucid sonic topologies. The ten compositions of Throb, shiver, arrow of time find weightless melodies soaring across after-image gradients, magnified and compressed. Misted tones within "Please be normal" and "90" soften drone-soaked shudders of inner acoustics messing up. Vocal invocations appear from long-term collaborators Malibu and chrysanthemum bear, as well as drifting synth radiance from Faten Kanaan. Throb, shiver, arrow of time furthers Coates' reach in collapsing the digital into the analogue and vice versa, allowing serendipity to reorganize the material and push out against the confines of flatness. This sculptural approach to sound is deeply influenced by the intricate installations of artist Sarah Sze, whose permutations of visual matter with its own after-image form kaleidoscopic epitaphs for ephemera and emotion. Coates' thinking about Sze's work and processes flowed together with his own playing and editing techniques, superimposing the textural relief of a live take back into a composition, and allowing the sound to succumb to a dream of itself. As Coates expands, "The cello is a kind of melancholic instrument with a light ethereal spirit. When the sound is flattened into digital processes, with shifted frequencies and time stretching I'm trying to give it even more of those qualities. Sometimes I'm distancing myself from it, so it becomes a piece of discarded debris that has soul in it, a down-sampling. Or other times, it's trying to maximize the present tense in the act of playing, and collapse that vivid color into a burnished, photocopied kind of sound. So the music acts like weather, weathering the listener, or as flames licking at the sides of objects." As the record unfurls, the compositions swell in duration, until the granular glimmers of its finale "Make it happen" persist in almost violent delight. "There's a feeling of not wanting to let this album go, trying to defy the extinguishing sound at the end of the music, trying to push the colors beyond the confines of the structure, to defeat the silence." In the scramble to resist denouement, Coates suspends the arrow of time in its eternal flight, just for a moment, to reveal the solace of the dust settling in the afterglow. Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time will be released on vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on October 18, 2024. On behalf of Oliver and RVNG Intl., a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit The Traditional Music and Song Association of Scotland, an organization fostering opportunities for people of all ages to participate in the traditional music and culture of Scotland.
“A huge thing for this record was to make it feel as close to our live show as possible,” says Tom Sharkett of W.H. Lung’s latest album. “We didn’t want it to sound live but we wanted to capture the excitement of the live performances.”
This is something that has become paramount to the group in recent years as they have undeniably blossomed into one of the most joyous and arresting live bands in the country. “The reason I’m in a band is to play live music,” says singer Joe Evans. “For me, music is live music. That’s what it’s for, to be played with people.”
The five-piece band, also featuring Chris Mulligan, Hannah Peace, and Alex Mercer-Main, decided to try something new on their third album after two incredibly successful collaborations with previous producer Matt Peel. In order to capture the energy, spirit and dynamism of their live shows, they relocated to Sheffield to work with Ross Orton (MIA, Arctic Monkeys, Working Men’s Club) who was able to harness this side of the band to remarkable effect. “Ross is the Sheffield Steve Albini,” says Evans. “He’s the king of not overthinking it and trusting the process of the art of recording songs. He was always there to stop us fucking around with cerebral stuff and get it down.” Sharkett echoes this too: “He was the exact producer we needed without us even realising. His productions and mixes are bombastic, lively and in your face and that’s exactly what we wanted.”
However, while this album is rooted in a sense of capturing a moment and a sparky liveness, that’s not to say it’s a raw or ragged record. It is still a meticulously composed, delicately layered and pristinely produced piece of work that, in true W.H. Lung style, runs the gauntlet from dance to pop to indie while still capturing that distinctly unique quality that is unquestionably their own. “It was a really big thing for me to realise what made us sound like us on this record,” says Sharkett. “I think the album sounds a lot more confident and self assured because of it. Some songs sound just so much like Lung and I’m really proud of that. I’m not sure we’ve done that as consistently across the other records.”
While the band have drilled deeper into finding their own singular identity, it’s not a record resting on its laurels. It’s a significant leap forward, expanding on their solid foundations while also breaking new ground. “The big difference with this record is its directness in every sense,” says Sharkett. “The songwriting is more upfront. Previously we’d focused a lot on vibe and production as opposed to just writing songs. The overall mission here was to revert to a classic songwriting structure and for the production to come afterwards.” And so what you have on this record are deeply considered and well-crafted songs, then recorded with blistering intensity in the moment, and then given a touch of experimentation afterwards. Then throw in Orton’s contributions to the band and it’s proven to be a real winning formula. “He brought a real dose of magic to the songs we’d written,” says Sharkett. “And brought an extra bit of wonk and quirkiness each time.”
The band’s ability to write more traditional and conventional songs is clearly a skill they’ve taken to with ease, at times there’s an almost Springsteen-like quality – but if he'd ever had an ecstasy period – to tracks such as ‘Thinner Wine’ and ‘Bloom and Fade’. While ‘How to Walk’ was constructed with one thing only in mind: that it would absolutely slay on stage. “I can’t wait to play this live,” says Evans. “We wanted a song to represent our live set, a new big one, and this is it.” Once again it leans towards the anthemic, with its driving, propulsive charge complete with incandescent synths and vocal melodies so irresistible you can already hear them being sung in unison by a crowd.
It’s an incredibly difficult feat to pull off a record that is more rooted in traditional songcraft while also capturing the power of a live performance, as well as pushing sonics into experimental new directions while working with a brand new collaborator. But here the band has managed to do just that. And the album’s closing song ‘I Will Set Fire To The House’ is a perfect example of such a thing. It’s a song that feels immaculately constructed but also very much alive and of the moment as its radiating synths engulf from the off, and Evans’ vocal is silky but powerful and in perfect symbiosis with Peace’s. It’s a song that captures the endless joys of music playing long into the night. “It may be a bit of a bloody bombastic way to end an album saying ‘and we’ll dance into the sunrise’,” says Evans. “But fuck it.”
MORE PRESS ON ‘VANITIES’ (MELO131)
"Vanities artily refines an exhilarating brand of up-front electro-dance" MOJO ⅘
'Idiosyncratic yet euphoric electronic pop on triumphant second LP' 9/10 Uncut
''One of the most effective alternative pop albums of the year'' 4/5 Record Collector
'Dance music for the modern age' - The Times (4*)
Rubblebucket’s new album explores one particular year from the band’s past known as the Year Of The Banana. Frontwoman Kalmia Traver has a personal practice of naming each year since 2011. However, in 2015 (Year Of The Banana) Kalmia’s romantic relationship with Rubblebucket co-founder Alex Toth fell apart, and that year was spent peeling off psychological layers in search of the sweetness that would allow the friendship, and the band, to continue. “People get obsessed with the albums that were never finished because the band couldn’t stay together,” Kalmia says. “But Year Of The Banana is the album that did get finished.” So Rubblebucket is celebrating 15 years as a band with a record about the year it almost ended. Rubblebucket is still a through-and-through art rock dance band, virtuosic experimental musicians with a pop sensibility along the lines of Talking Heads, Prince, or Kate Bush. But there’s nothing retro about Rubblebucket’s sound; they’re mixing electronics with real instruments, especially horn sections (Alex plays trumpet, Kalmia sax) and they feel at home in the same universe as Caroline Polachek, SZA, or Chappell Roan. Listening to Year Of The Banana, it’s impossible to overlook how joyful it is, how full of hope. The album speaks to the power of transforming and adapting relationships in a time when the world needs it most. The album has a transforming effect, inspiring us to face ourselves and radically keep loving each other, assuring us that the unpredictable process has potential to feel as free and sweet as peeling a banana on the dance floor.
- A1: John Martyn - Small Hours
- A2: Stephen Whynott – A Better Way
- A3: April Fulladosa - Sunlit Horizon
- B1: Sylvain Kassap - Plancoët
- B2: Manu Dibango - Night In Zeralda
- B3: Henri Texier - Hocoka Time
- B4: Nivaldo Orneleas - O Que Ha
- B5: 808 State – Pacific State (Massey’s Conga Mix)
- C1: Magma - Eliphas Levi
- C2: Homelife - Stranger
- C3: Michael Gregory Jackson - Unspoken Magic
- D1: Dora Morelenboum - Avermelhar
- D2: Simone - Tudo Que Você Podia Ser
- D3: Experience Unlimited – People
- D4: Otis G. Johnson - I Got It
- D5: Mel & Tim - Keep The Faith
Oxblood Coloured Vinyl[36,09 €]
Exploring late-night, after-hours meditations on sound; ‘Everything Above The Sky (Astral Travelling with Luke Una)’ is a new compilation by the titular DJ, promoter and enigmatic cultural curator. Off the back of the E Soul Cultura phenomena, this compilation comes at a timely point in Luke’s rich career as he soars the heights of playing all over the world. Avoiding any chance of his sound being pigeonholed, Luke has put together a tracklist of songs and music that have a transcendental feel, after coming off the grid, going back to source, outside the city walls .
Music has long been believed to aid out of body experiences and many of us have searched long and hard for a combination of those elusive ingredients that might alleviate some of the monotony of everyday life, our daily routines and obligations, and those things that seem to block us from the spirit of the universe. In this collection, Luke selects music with all the right ingredients in just the right quantities, allowing the listener to engage in an esoteric journey of enlightenment through sound. Being a prolific collector of music, Luke initially delivered enough tracks to compile several compilations, making the licensing process the biggest effort to date for the label. The music moves softly and slowly, never becoming too intrusive, exemplifying the wonderful elevating properties of simple songs played from the heart.
Luke’s Everything Above The Sky manifesto reads, “Astral Travelling in the meadowlands with acid folk, spiritual jazz, around midnight hocus pocus, cosmic psychedelic soul, magical spellbound whirling swirling love songs, Brazilian ballads of light into machine soul gospel utopia dreaming, Balearic bossa, Outer Space ancient African drum, the breath of trees, escaping the big bad modern world, gathering round winter fires, walking amongst the bracken in Padley Gorge in late summer twilight, overlooking the Hope Valley, escaping ego, detaching and finally letting go amongst the stars with the slowly floating people. It’s beautiful beyond. Everything above the Sky”.
Beginning his career as an original Sheffield house young blood in the mid 1980s, Luke’s move to Manchester and partnership with Justin Crawford saw the birth of Electric Chair, a cornerstone cult night in the UK underground club scene. Then came Electric Elephant, a Croatian festival paying homage to their wild eclecticism from Balearic to Brazilian to É Soul, house, disco and techno. Luke’s much loved, long-running Homoelectric night and more recently Homobloc sell out festival for 10,000 souls has been at the forefront of Manchester’s LGBTQ+ cultural landscape. Luke’s Friday evening show on Worldwide FM captured imaginations and became a cult four-hour must-listen monthly journey for fans all over the world. Today, Luke remains, as ever, at the forefront of a changing milieu, pairing the momentous legacy of Manchester’s 80s and 90s scene with the delivery of what today’s club communities need to get down.
Kindred spirits Passepartout Duo and Inoyama Land embody the essence of play - charting a new chapter and reinvigorating the environmental music and electronic landscape.
Passepartout Duo is formed of Nicoletta Favari (IT) and Christopher Salvito (IT/US), who since 2015 have been on a continuous journey travelling the world's corners, engaged in a creative process they term "slow music". Having been guests of many notable artist residencies and with live performances in cultural spaces and institutions, their evocative music escapes categorisation. With no fixed abode their musical pilgrimage brought them to Japan first in 2019, which prompted a deep connection to Kanky? Ongaku 'environmental music', a genre in which Inoyama Land is often associated with, soundtracking the duo's first immersive experience. In 2023 the duo revisited Japan and set out to reconnect in particular with the music of Inoyama Land, performed by Makoto Inoue and Yasushi Yamashita. The highly revered album 'Danzindan-Pojidon' (1983) produced by Haruomi Hosono amongst other well publicized and acclaimed reissues (Light in The Attic Records' Grammy-nominated compilation 'Kanky? Ongaku'), produced a global resurgence and admiration of the environmental music movement. Nicoletta took the lead to seek out Inoyama Land and in making contact successfully their intrigue and eagerness to meet was warmly reciprocated, and the group scheduled to meet in the form of a spontaneous improvisation session. "We're deeply concerned with what it means to be a duo, and what it means for people to connect through music."
Radio Yugawara is a unique one-off transmission from a specific place and point in time, unlikely to ever occur again. The respective duo's approach can really be described as "tuning in", a tuning into each other, to themselves, and to the surrounding nature of Yugawara. Like waves that travel off-world, sounds travel through the universe and can be lost forever if we don't seek them out. In finding a harmonic affinity within their instruments and a spiritual kinship in their interwoven performance, Radio Yugawara at its core is an interpretation of feeling, of close human interaction and the true essence of discovery.
"The album is both a transmission from a location, but also a tuning into the surroundings and to each other. Music in this kind of ephemeral moment is much less about active creation and more about discovering something which is already there in the air."
Dame Area's highly anticipated fourth studio album, "Toda la verdad sobre Dame Area" ("The Whole Truth about Dame Area"), a collaboration with the renowned labels Mannequin Records and Humo Records.
Formed in 2017 within the vibrant underground scene of Barcelona's Màgia Roja club, Dame Area comprises the Italian-Catalan duo Silvia Konstance and Viktor Lux Crux. They fuse industrial-tribal polyrhythms with minimalist synth basslines, drawing profound inspiration from avant-garde masters such as Esplendor Geometrico, Throbbing Gristle, Suicide, Einstürzende Neubauten, Can, Coil, Swans, Big Black, and Wolf Eyes.
This record represents a new phase in Dame Area's discography. It's a big step up in terms of sound, composition and ideas. This record it's the perfect representation of what they have been playing live the last three years and what most people know them for. Also it serves as a companion piece to 2022’s Toda la mentira sobre Dame Area ("All The Lies About Dame Area"), which had a stronger focus on melody, while this latest record is more aggressive and industrial-influenced, with a greater emphasis on percussion.
Tracks like the Suicide-influenced "Si no es hoy cuando es" and "Sempre Cambiare" are an onslaught of industrialism and experimentalism—formidable, volatile, and unpredictable avant-garde subversion. Silvia explains, "One of our biggest influences is doing what our influences wouldn't do. We're more into dynamics and structures atypical of electronic music, with changes in time signatures, starts and stops, and dynamics more typical of rock music. We use any musical idea from any genre. Some songs on the album are based on flamenco rhythms, others influenced by '60s experimental pop, heavy metal, or contemporary electronic music."
The confrontational "Vengo dall'aldilà" accelerates with heavy percussion, while "Tu me hiciste creer" builds into a rhythmic, transcendent noise of yelled vocals and hypnotic beats. Viktor adds, "This song took us more time to complete than any other we have recorded. It was a very organic process, evolving slowly from some instrumental percussive stuff we were doing live. Then we started using feedback as a rhythmic element (through a metallic sheet), and this was the first song where we incorporated this element, typical of noise-rock and experimental rock."
Elsewhere, "Esto Es Nuestro Ruido" represents a manic, eclectic form of contemporary industrial music, post-punk, and EBM. Silvia notes, "It's the first album we recorded outside a studio. Although we've been playing live with metallic percussion and floor tom from the very start, in the studio, with some exceptions, it was mostly sample-based until now. On Toda la verdad sobre Dame Area, all drums and almost all metallic percussion have been recorded live."
With a growing reputation as one of the best live bands around since their inception, Dame Area has toured extensively across Europe, performing at renowned festivals like Atonal, CTM, Nuits Sonores, Dour, and Fusion, as well as legendary clubs such as Berghain, Tresor, Apolo, and Spook Factory.
Recorded at Sol de Sants Studios and Estudio Hermetic between August and November 2023
Silvia Konstance: vocals, synths, percussions, electronics, production
Viktor L. Crux: synths, drums, percussions, electronics, production
Mixing and additional production by Guillermo Sánchez Rojo
Mastering by Paul Mac at Hardgroove Mastering
Designed by Leo Sousa
Photography by Fabio Calabretta
Photo concept by Dame Area
The new dance album by Biicla called HYPER HOUSE is an imaginary club, where the main hero is the listener. The vibe in this house is Uk influenced modern take on bass / garage with a kind flow and naked emotions. The record has been in the making last 3 years and you could have heard some singles from the album already - GAS (4.21), MAKING NEW, MISS YA were all released via System 108 in 2023, the label has also become by accident a new home for the artist. Before arriving on System 108, Biicla has been releasing music for a while and getting exposure in big US Festivals, like Lollapalooza, Hard Summer, Bonaroo and many more, celebrating millions of streams worldwide. With System 108, Biicla found a new home and new dedicated audience, and it seems like a match made in heaven.
The process of production of the album took time during some challenging years - when our ordinary world started to shatter... Therefore the cover is divided in two parts - on the right, we observe chaos and destruction; on the left, people are having a quiet and happy life. Modern / hybrid club sounds in the album co-exist with sensible, soulful vibes, sorrow and hope. On top, the finishing comes in a close to perfection studio-engineered sound. HYPER HOUSE therefore is an intimate record with a personal meaning for Biicla and for us, as a label. Together as a team, we represent Biicla in all facets of his creative output, would it be his self-branded party BIICMAK, live shows or support of new names in the scene, discovered by the artist, as an example here comes the V/A Radar 108, curated by Biicla - tip!
Aesthetically, Ed Schrader’s Music Beat hates to tread water. At the same time, the Baltimore-based two-piece of vocalist Ed Schrader and bassist Devlin Rice won’t force their songs to fit a preconceived style. “The next album’s always gotta be different from the last one. We’re different people from record to record. So, writing authentically to ourselves will always bring our work to a place that we haven’t been to yet,” Rice said. Schrader added, “We’re terrified of turning into AC/DC. We never want to be married to one scene or time or sound. We want to be the Boba Fett of bands! Constantly altering the way in which we make records has been pretty key in that process.”
For Orchestra Hits, the band’s latest, that alteration was welcoming longtime musical comrade Dylan Going into the fold as a co-writer and co-producer. A songwriter in his own right, a guitar sideman for ESMB on their last two tours, and a collaborator with Rice in the noise riffage band Mandate, Going had both a unique vision and an intimate familiarity with the ESMB vibe.
“Dylan came to every show we’ve ever played in New York—no matter how weird it was,” Schrader said. “He’d be standing there ready to move an amp or feed us barbecued cactus after the gig and toss on some Golden Girls so we could decompress. It felt like family as soon as we began working, but I honestly had no idea how damn good he was at tossing out these hooks.”
According to Schrader, the songs “just poured out of us” over the course of a highly caffeinated three-day weekend in a tiny room in Devlin’s house while his cat, Sandy Goose, screamed continually. “It was like three kids hiding from the world to get into some lovely mischief,” they said. The lack of external pressure in the process gives Orchestra Hits an almost paradoxical vibe. For all of the album’s layers, that mix live and sequenced instruments, it never loses the raw energy of a small handful of friends in the same room plugging in, cranking up, and playing until they pass out.
Lyrically, the album finds Schrader, now 45, meditating on experiences in their youth to make sense of the present moment. “We are not into the garden,” Schrader wails on the relentless “Roman Candle,” a song about the sad debacle of Woodstock ’99, and a direct response to Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock,” a utopian ode to hippie idealism. A 19-year-old Schrader, having snuck into Woodstock ’99 through a hole in the fence, was there the night members of the crowd used candles intended for a vigil for victims of the Columbine High School massacre to set fires all over the grounds. Even before the fires, Schrader remembered feeling disconnected from the music, the nostalgic cash grab, and the meatheads in the crowd. After watching a press tower collapse, they boarded a random shuttle bus and were dropped off near a Denny’s. “It was a far cry from the Garden of Eden,” Schrader said. “That experience defined what I didn’t want to be a part of, and yet America is more like Woodstock ’99 than ever.”
With percolating synthesizer arpeggios, and climbing bass grooves, “IDKS” is the album’s dance-floor slapper. “’IDKS’ is a funny one,” Schrader said. “We already had a pretty satisfying suite of songs when Dylan was packing up to head back to New York, but he missed the train because of a freak snowstorm. Realizing he’d be stuck in town another day, he says to me, ‘Here’s this other weird thing I have.’ It was ‘IDKS.’ The hooks were so good I felt like Homer Simpson at a free donut convention. I just dove right in, and we cranked that baby out in like 20 minutes.”
Lyrically, “IDKS” is a letter from the true self to public-facing self. “It’s an angry song,” Schrader said. “Because the public-facing self is always looking for an easy escape, but it forces the true self into a cage. I honestly thought my lyrics were corny and was about to change them, but Dylan was digging it just the way it was. So that’s what you hear.”
With the soaring “Daylight Commander,” the band went against all of their musty-basement-bred instincts. “I went full High School Musical with the vocals,” Schrader said. “At first it felt almost embarrassing, but I remember reading somewhere that Bowie recommended always floating a little bit above your comfort zone, and that’s what we did here.” The song is part exercise in absurdity and part pop Trojan horse. “If ever we had a ‘Shiny Happy People’ moment, I guess this is it,” Schrader said.
Ever-evolving the mythologies and magic of Dialect's sonic sphere, Andrew PM Hunt returns with Atlas of Green, elegantly molding unexacting details of memory and mistranslation into the framework of the British musician and composer's creative pursuit. The album imagines a young musician named Green working in a future dawning era where lost signals and enduring impulses are unearthed from the sediments of technology and time. Across twelve compositions, Green becomes the compass in an epoch of transition; one shaded with pastoral patinas and studded with the fragments of allegorical ruin. As tattered as it is tender, Atlas of Green is a patchwork of scavenged relics and bygone hues, cast through the iridescent shimmers of a mid-future in flux. Growing up on the Wirral Peninsula in North West England, Hunt was surrounded by stone age landmarks and rock carvings that infused the landscape with legend. It was beside those carvings on a residency at Bidston Artistic Research Center where he began the journey of Atlas of Green, experimenting with tape loops and exploring the center's library of sci-fi. Here Hunt also encountered the work of Italian philosopher Federico Campagna, a writer who believes we're at the end of our current world. This encouraged Hunt's exploration of how the fabric and fantasies of our current era might endure into the future of Green, as they try to make sense of the riddles of the past, utilizing broken electronics and simple acoustic instruments to create new mythic forms. This question of endurance led Hunt to inscribe Atlas of Green with its own lucid markings - sometimes almost anthemic adornments - which unfurl through the album's melancholic air as possible new metaphors for how the human spirit might persist through dark days and regain lost wisdom. As Hunt reflects, "We're not just on an endless procession through constantly better worlds. Our lack of action (on climate and inequality) feels hopeless at times. I find some comfort in the idea that maybe the world needs a new song in order to tell a new story about itself". The image of Green as a journeying adolescent in-between eras developed out of a burgeoning interest in the fantasy writing of Ursula K. Le Guin and Gene Wolfe and occurred at a point in Hunt's life where the question of starting a family was looming. Green became a device for thinking about the future, or futures, putting someone in another world and granting access to a slightly longer timeframe than one's own life. What would this person, in this as-yet-unsung world do with something as powerful as music? As Hunt notes, "I imagined them doing what we've always done with music - using it to build a map of feeling, providing boundaries and tracing the edges of our emotions, defining a space of possibility and giving voice to our intuition. This is an alternative future to the one of endless growth but one which still holds space for hopes and dreams." Mapping new folds in the passage of time, Atlas of Green is traced with an aura of sonic urgency which arises through its process-led construction. Following a series of live shows in early 2023, the record was created with an assemblage of analogue electronics and acoustic instruments, including scratched records and a broken four track, collaging studio work with recorded live recordings featuring work in progress. Where the indeterminate energies of Under~Between (2021) appeared through digital processing, Atlas of Green embraces chance encounters within the malfunctions of physical media and glitching gear. Within these interwoven clusters of organic and blemished sound, Dialect reclaims the joyfulness of the inner amateur and creates a soft landing for new seeds of magical possibility - rooted in the bounds and abundance of realism. "As a planet of people we have to deal one way or another with our finite existence. We have to deal with that loss with hope still in our hearts - our capacity to love cannot be contingent on things lasting forever, and so this image of Green is not a vision of dystopia, nor utopia but an expression of trust and an acceptance of limits."
- A1: Welcome (Feat. Brittney Carte)
- A2: All Live (Feat. Abstract Orchestra)
- A3: All Live Pt. 2 (Feat. Sango, Phat Kat, & Daru Jones)
- A4: To The Disco (Feat. Abstract Orchestra)
- A5: Yeah Yeah (Feat. Karriem Riggins)
- A6: Just Like You (Feat. Larry June & The Dramatics)
- A7: F.u.n
- B1: Request (Feat. Abstract Orchestra & Earlly Mac)
- B2: So Superb (Feat. Cordae & Earlly Mac)
- B3: Keep Dreaming (Feat. Karriem Riggins & Fat Ray)
- B4: Factor (Feat. Elijah Fox & Eric Roberson)
- B5: Since 92 (Feat. Robert Glasper)
The latest full length album from Detroit mainstays Slum Village, F.U.N., has now made its way to vinyl. The 12-track project is their first album in nearly ten years and includes fresh collaborations with Larry June, Cordae, Eric Roberson, Robert Glasper , Karriem Riggins, Abstract Orchestra, Sango, Phat Kat, Daru Jones, Earlly Mac, The Dramatics and more. 2015's critically acclaimed Yes! further cemented T3 and Young RJ's ability to effectively carry on the legacy of the seminal rap group, retaining its essence while evolving its sound with fresh new energy. However, with last year's sold out tour in Europe, and the release of the Larry June and The Dramatics-assisted "Just Like You", it was revealed that the duo was back in the lab together working on a new Slum Village album. F.U.N. finds Slum Village expanding on their signature certain sound, but still staying close to their hometown roots: Young RJ explains- “We wanted to just try something new, so we focused on making Disco-inspired music,” and T3 notes that the recording process all “began with collecting old Disco records.” For fans who wonder why the sonic shift, and why the long hiatus between proper albums, T3 says “Slum is still here. We’re still relevant and we’re still trying to push the envelope. Sometimes people put too many rules on music, and without sounding cliche, we wanted to just have fun with this album.” F.U.N., indeed.
Coming out on September 6th on Sharptone Records, Sundiver is Boston Manor’s fifth album and one that represents a glimmering dawn for the Blackpool five-piece. Grown from a seedbed of optimism and sobriety, the LP celebrates new beginnings, second chances and rebirth. With two members recently stepping into fatherhood, hope is baked into every note. “Datura came out of these really dark few years over the hangover of the pandemic,” Henry reflects. “I'd been struggling a lot with drinking and not taking care of myself and bad mental health and stuff. We wanted Sundiver to be the next morning of the following day.” He explains that it feels good this time round to write through the lens of positivity. “The themes began to emerge, of rebirth, spring, dawn, sunshine and then other elements just started to fit into that.” It was during the making of Sundiver that Henry found out he was going to be a dad. This album is a significant one for the band. Originally coming out of the emo and pop punk scene, they’ve explored sonics and genres throughout their career, taken risks and achieved more than they could ever had dreamed of. They’ve grown up as Boston Manor – their lives and the world changing around them. They’re now taking stock, at a crossroads of the band they were and the band they could be.
While writing the album, they revisited the bands that shaped them in the late 90s and early 00s. “I was listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager and I just thought, why don't we make music like our favourite bands?”, guitarist Mike Cuniff remembers with a smile. “So we brought our interests to the table that way. Y2K kind of vibe. There are elements of Deftones, there are elements of Portishead in there, some Garbage, The Cardigans.” He laughs and adds NSYNC to the list of inspirations. From this cocktail of classics comes a dynamic and ambitious record, rich with depth, groove and more hooks than Peter Pan’s nightmares. Lyrics that foxtrot from parallel universes to personal growth, vivid dreamscapes to raw grief. Individually they’re single strokes full of meaning and magic. Together they’re a landscape.
Container (out Feb 15th) is the first single and it’s them at their best – impassioned and infectious. “This song is about the stagnancy of life creeping up on you & how that can bring about change.,” Henry explains, citing Ocean Song by US band Daughters as an inspiration.
The concept of the butterfly effect is present on Sundiver – how small actions can lead to big changes. This is no clearer than on their second single, Sliding Doors (out April 5th). It has the golden sound of late 90s Lollapalooza rock – think Smashing Pumpkins - rebooted with crisp 2024 production and a potent heaviness. In the lyrics Henry wonders, what if?, pondering on what could be. The idea that there are infinite versions of you whose lives splinter off in different directions at every decision you make. That there’s another you out there somewhere right now reading this sentence, and another me writing it. “So much is down to chance and circumstance,” Henry says. “You might catch that train and your life totally changes. Or you might miss it and things stay the way they are.”
Heat Me Up (out May 30th) is defiant and victorious, the audio equivalent of quitting your shit job and driving into the hot summer sun with a head full of dreams. “The lyrics are about love and gratitude,” Henry shares. “Another theme on the record is just appreciating what you have. It’s about not taking for granted the things that you've been afforded.”
There was some natural magic in the creation of Sundiver. They worked with their usual producer, Larry Hibbitt, and engineer, Alex O’Donovan, but instead of recording in London again they ended up in the green pastures of Welwyn Garden City. “Because Larry lives out in the countryside now, it was a way different environment and way different experience recording this time,” Mike remembers. “That contributed a lot to the brighter sound of the record.” The daily barbecues they had during their recording sessions imbued the process with harmony – five old friends spending quality time together and making quality music.
However, the album is by no means one-note. Birthing this new world they’ve created wasn’t without it’s pain, and that can be heard in the heavier moments on Sundiver. What Is Taken Will Never Be Lost is the most-stripped back on the album, a slow rock number seasoned with the downtempo Portishead influence. The heartfelt lyrics are Henry’s way of processing the loss of his grandfather, who died in a hospice last year(?). “It was just fucking horrible. It was always cold when I went there and they were always trying to get rid of me. The song title, What Was Taken Can Ever Be Lost, is the idea of his memory fading at the time because of dementia.” Henry goes onto explain that shoeboxes of photographs, diaries and a legacy is what he’s left behind. “He lived a really rich life and it has really impacted me and my father. His legacy is etched into the fabric of history in a very small way.” This song continues the connection between his grandfather and the band, as his painted face is emblazoned on the cover of the very first Boston Manor EP, Driftwood. As well as emotionally heavy themes, there’s heaviness in the music of Sundiver too. The closing song, Oil In My Blood, descends into an intense shoegaze outro with Debbie Gough from Heriot screaming hellfire. It’s in moments like this that the band show us aggression and fury can be as much a part of positive change as quiet introspection. The last lyrics of the song, “It resets and starts again,” leaves us in contemplation as the final chord rings out.
Touring the US, Europe and Japan over the years makes for an impressive CV, but if you know anything about Boston Manor you’ll know that they’re all about their hometown. Their choice to work with Blackpool-based photographer Nick Barkworth is testament to that. They’ve been working with him since the pandemic. “He captures Blackpool in a light that really reflects the weirdness and quirkiness of the town,” Henry says.” He's got a really good way of presenting that.” For the Sundiver cover, Nick photographed a 30ft tall abstract glass sculpture made by the local artist John Ditchfield. A striking and bewitching monolith that’s familiar to them but unusual to most people. “It has such kind of a gravity and power to it,” Henry describes the sculpture which stands in a field just outside of the seaside town. “It reminds me of either an explosion or a star or a supernova. To me it represents new life, power and radiance.” Boston Manor have got a knack for that - connecting the otherworldly and the everyday, the stars and the streets.
They’re a band known for using their music to make bigger statements about society. This time round they’re harnessing the uplifting power of music, and the communion it creates, as an antidote to the daily doom and isolation. “It seems like absolute chaos out there at the moment,” Henry says. “You’ve got Gaza and Israel, you've got Russia, you've got the fact that 40% of the world is going to have an election this year and increasingly most governments are leaning very far to the Right. The internet is dividing everybody, people are getting poorer and more desperate. It's really, really scary.” They considered trying to tackle the weight of it all in their music. “We could’ve written Welcome to the Neighbourhood on steroids, where it's just absolute darkness and misery”. He’s referring to their 2018 concept album that deals with class, inequality and the bleaker side of Blackpool. “But I think it's really important to write something that people can be immersed in and find some sort of solace in. Somewhere they can escape to from the modern day pressures and everything that’s going on. We’re all in this together.”




















