Buscar:perhaps

With her new album, Spira (Sprout), Olof Arnalds has found her joy in writing songs rekindled. In many ways it harkens back to her debut: it is exclusively in Icelandic, the arrangements are markedly stripped back compared to her last two records, and it is mostly recorded in single takes in the control room of Sundlaugin, much like Vio og vio. Although a classically trained singer and violinist, Olof has been an active practitioner of popular music for thirty years, the watershed moment was the 2007 release of her debut solo album Vio og vio (Now and Again, wider international release in 2009), produced by Sigur Ros' Kjartan Sveinsson in the band's converted swimming-pool studio Sundlaugin. It seemed to appear fully formed out of the ether, and became a local classic almost overnight, winning accolades such as 'Best Alternative Album' at the Iceland Music Awards, named 'Record of the Year' by Iceland's principal daily newspaper and recognised as one of the decade's 100 best albums by eMusic. Spira is produced by Skuli Sverrisson, who also contributes bass and guitar. His mind-melting resume includes musical direction for Laurie Anderson, recordings with Blonde Redhead and work with artists such as David Sylvian, Jon Hassell, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Bill Frisell and Arto Lindsay. Davio por Jonsson contributes piano and guitar to the record-much as he did during Olof's busiest touring schedule nearly fifteen years ago when the two of them toured the world for months on end. There is hardly a jazz musician in Iceland he hasn't played with but lately he is perhaps best known for his close collaboration with Ragnar Kjartansson, one of this century's most celebrated visual artists.

** Highly limited edition CLEAR VINYL VERSION**

Pt.1 of 2

Gigi Masin's sparkling sonic magic leads us to the light in “Implodendo in una accecante oscurità” (Imploding in a blinding darkness). The mirror reflects nothing but a faint, unfamiliar, mysteriously hostile face, but a glimmer survives, evoked by a painfully solemn romanticism that is salvific, glimmers of light bounce off broad synthetic volutes, a bewitching ambient, airy quiet, they spread, a few veins of darkness shine through, aesthetic beauty equates to clear spirituality, sax and female voices, the elegy that intertwines piano and vocal loops, that omnipresent melancholy, nostalgia, reassuring, which is openness to tomorrow. It is the moment of light, the powerful feeling that nothing is lost, that what awaits to be grasped is more than a remnant, perhaps an overcoming, light that “is not what it shows but what it reveals”, that light that becomes memory that does not need to illuminate to be perceived where it most needs to spread, where darkness has resided for too long

‘Pilot’ is the debut album from London quintet Miniseries. Channelling the epic sweep of TV themes and movie soundtracks into resplendent space rock they explore themes of youth and ageing, heartbreak and paranoia, euphoria and existential dread.

Songwriter Doug Morch (Longview) had been working on largely acoustic folk songs when he met Angela Gannon (The Magic Numbers) at Glastonbury 2017. Romance and musical collaboration ensued. The band coalesced in the hallowed environs of Farringdon's The Betsey Trotwood pub – a musical nexus where burgeoning indie and Americana scenes collide – where they met fellow songwriter and guitarist Dermot Watson (from Brighton's The Dials) and drummer Danny Abbasi and were joined by Doug's former bandmate Aidan Banks on bass. When they came together, their indie folk mutated into motorik art rock, with their first single being an eight-minute jam called "Road".

When it came to capturing their sound, the band reached for maverick musician and producer Sean Read. They recorded tracks at Read's Famous Times studio in Clapton, London, as well as at Edwyn Collins' Clashnarrow in Helmsdale, Scotland – one of the world's most breathtaking and idiosyncratic studio locations, adding unquantifiable magic to the proceedings.

For the closing track "May You Always", they headed to another studio imbued with tangible inspiration: Blueprint Studio in Salford with producer Craig Potter (Elbow) at the helm. For the song, Dermot drew cinematic inspiration from the Withnail & I line "I'll never play The Dane", the song is about realising that the things you aspired to in youth will never come to pass and being at peace with that realisation.

The recurring themes of youth and ageing are apparent in the resplendent lead track ‘You're Gold’ – a heartfelt call for young people to reject materialism and exploitative influencer culture in search of life's deeper meaning, with stylistic nods to The Pixies and early Stereolab.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, "Sepia" explores old age and fading memories through dementia, where the ending descends into chaos like a fragmenting mind. Elements of "Sepia" are foreshadowed in the album's opening track, the instrumental "Pilot Theme", which pays homage to TV theme music, invoking spy thrillers or perhaps something otherworldly from science fiction.

“Offcumdens” is a Calder Valley, Yorkshire term for people who live in the area but come from somewhere else. Hailing from Bury, Lancashire, Morch wrote the song while living in Hebden Bridge (and watching too much Happy Valley) and found himself being an offcumden. It’s a pop at the kind of local nativism which breeds intolerance and an illustration of the sinister rise of wider political populism.

Miniseries' Pilot is just the beginning of the story. Enthralling and atmospheric, the London quintet have created something familiar yet timeless. As singer Doug Morch says, "It's the Miniseries Pilot episode. Like the TV episode a studio makes to test whether it's viable.” In the age of streaming and box-sets, this is an album to truly binge on. We can’t wait to hear what happens next.

'Yamame' (the Japanese name for a kind of freshwater salmon) was recorded in 1962 and was Miyazawa’s first album, but the sharpness and avant-garde modernity of the music creates a completely timeless quality. Miyazawa is one of a group of musicians who laid the foundation of the Japanese jazz scene. He wanted to express his cultural heritage by doing something he felt “only someone Japanese” could do, and so he dedicated himself to a pursuit of “Japanese jazz”. Incidentally, the album was originally simply titled “Akira Miyazawa”, but perhaps due to the impression the cover art and the track titles made, it was reissued in 1977 as “Yamame”, and has gone by that title ever since. This is an historic masterpiece of Japanese jazz.

Tenor Saxophone – Akira Miyazawa
Alto Saxophone, Flute – Sadao Watanabe (tracks: B1 to B3)
Baritone Saxophone, Clarinet – Tadayuki Harada (tracks: B1 to B3)
Trombone – Mitsuhiko Matsumoto (tracks: B1 to B3), Yasuhiro Tomoto (tracks: B1 to B3)
Trumpet – Akira Nakano (tracks: B1 to B3)
Piano – Masahiko Sato
Bass – Masanaga Harada
Bass Trombone – Takeshi Aoki (tracks: B1 to B3)
Drums – Kanji Harada, Takeshi Inomata
Supervised By – Jiro Kubota

French chanson, electro beats, pared-down or synthetic piano: at 21, Iliona draws on all of this. Plural, multifaceted, elusive. Yet her lyrics resonate as if one were singing heartache—and the love one hopes for—for the very first time.
She composes, records, and produces her tracks alone, determined to keep them as close as possible to the tunes, harmonies, and silhouettes she holds in her mind. This time, they are infused with the light of an intense love, and still carried by extreme sparseness in their arrangements: nothing—from electronic arpeggios to melodic autotune—is ever superfluous; everything has its place. Lifted by a new lightness, the tracks also echo the spirit of the yéyé sound Iliona has been listening to for a few years, without necessarily knowing the name of every songwriter or the mark they left behind. It’s their longing for carefree abandon that hovers over the hypnotic Si tu m’aimes demain and its music video inspired by the New Wave, the Beatles, and all those future memories you begin to build when you’re in love.


A gentle warmth also sweeps through the hazy doo-wop contours of Tête brûlée, and the lo-fi twist of Cocoon; but always with that veil of shadow that once floated over the apparent nonchalance of Françoise Hardy’s songs. That unease, that worried smile, resurfaces in the lovely pop gallop of Garçon manqué, an ode to the deepest friendships—the ones you hold in your arms to dance or, sometimes, to cry. Or in the delicate Cent fois, which whispers, “when will the movie scenes we quietly dreamed of come to life?”
The answer, perhaps, lies in wherever you hide, the party finds you, a superb soundtrack to an imaginary drama, whose venomous keyboards unfold the pictorial strength of Iliona’s songs.

Gonzen, uminari or retumbos. Perhaps you've heard these sounds? They're known to occur all over the world and, as one might expect, humans have strained to offer various explanations for these unsettling emissions that materialise unbidden from the sky.

We like to say that we've understood what's happening so that we can move on. Tidy up the loose ends and don't scare the horses. Nothing wrong with that in good measure, but there's something to be said for the Haudenosaunee peoples' explanation. They pointed out that the Great Spirit hasn't finished their work of shaping the earth and is making a fair bit of noise while they're at it.

If you accept that many questions never truly get answered, in fact can or should never truly be answered, you may be able to tune your mind to this collection of lingering sonic detonations. If you accept that the work is ongoing, our labours seldom done, that there's not much point talking about the end of anything, you may be ready to join us. It's not our task to finish it, nor are we free to desist.

Pt.2 of 2

Gigi Masin's sparkling sonic magic leads us to the light in “Implodendo in una accecante oscurità” (Imploding in a blinding darkness). The mirror reflects nothing but a faint, unfamiliar, mysteriously hostile face, but a glimmer survives, evoked by a painfully solemn romanticism that is salvific, glimmers of light bounce off broad synthetic volutes, a bewitching ambient, airy quiet, they spread, a few veins of darkness shine through, aesthetic beauty equates to clear spirituality, sax and female voices, the elegy that intertwines piano and vocal loops, that omnipresent melancholy, nostalgia, reassuring, which is openness to tomorrow. It is the moment of light, the powerful feeling that nothing is lost, that what awaits to be grasped is more than a remnant, perhaps an overcoming, light that “is not what it shows but what it reveals”, that light that becomes memory that does not need to illuminate to be perceived where it most needs to spread, where darkness has resided for too long

This is the third release by Trevor Dunn (Mr Bungle, Fantomas, Trio Convulsant, various with John Zorn) and Kevin Rutmanis (Tomahawk, Melvins, Cows, Hepa/Titus) On this outing Trevor joins Lords and Lady Kevin (duo of Kevin Rutmanis and drummer/artist Gina Skwoz) for a full length LP "Last Days at Hot Slit"

Songs are loosely based on assorted gospel, blues and jazz songs, some original, some covers. Included is a re-working of Mingus "Devil Woman". The trio based the pieces on improvisations that were then arranged and used to build free standing songs. A multitude of instruments were exploited by all those involved, to create a sizzling blend of aural delicacies. The album title is from a collection by writer Andrea Dworkin, often sited as the Celine of feminism. Less outre perhaps than their previous recordings, these songs hover somewhere between soundtrack- like excursions, to jazz/ blues mutations to a demented "rock" sounding affair. Something for everybody, or perhaps, nobody! Uniting former and current members of Tomahawk, Last Days At Hot Slit marks a powerful reunion between Rutmanis and Dunn. The record took shape gradually, born from Rutmanis's raw, unconventional bass recordings. "I sent Trevor a phone recording of some hideous bass racket and asked if he wanted to add anything," Rutmanis shares. "What he sent back was something like delicious fresh cherries with ice and banana slices." The pair's combined creativity gave rise to a new, immersive soundscape, while their collaborative piece, Crackpot Whorehead, set the tone for the current formation of Lords and Lady Kevin."

Yes's 1972 3-track recording masterpiece, Close to the Edge, presents a snapshot of an adventurous rock band at the peak of its powers, daring to push itself musically, both as individuals and as a unit.

The first half of the 1970s was an especially fertile period for British progressive rock, laying claim to classics such as Tarkus, Selling England by the Pound, Larks' Tongues in Aspic, The Dark Side of the Moon, and Thick as a Brick. Collectively these and other works represent the best British progressive rock had to offer. Yet, many reviewers cite Close to the Edge as the ultimate prog rock album.

Author and music journalist Will Romano writes: "Yes had previously penned epic tracks for The Yes Album and Fragile, but nothing on the magnitude of the musical gems appearing on Close to the Edge. It's something of a small miracle — perhaps even magic — that the virtuoso quintet crafted such a cohesive and compelling album during an often-hectic recording process that very nearly relegated this monumental work to the dustbin of history."

The album's centrepiece is the 18-minute title track, with themes and lyrics inspired by the Herman Hesse novel Siddhartha. Side two contains two non-conceptual tracks, the folk-inspired "And You and I" and the comparatively straightforward rocker "Siberian Khatru." Original drummer Bill Bruford found the album particularly laborious to make, which culminated in his decision to quit the band after it was recorded, to join King Crimson.

Close to the Edge became the band's greatest commercial success at the time of release. It peaked at No. 4 on the U.K. Albums Chart and No. 3 on the Billboard 200 in the United States, the highest position Yes has reached on the latter chart.

In 2020, Close to the Edge was ranked at No. 445 on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

Mastered by Kevin Gray at Cohearent Audio. Pressed on 180-gram vinyl at Quality Record Pressings, and housed in a tip-on old style gatefold double pocket jacket with textured stock by Stoughton Printing.

Holiday resort entertainer Tooper Keps takes a break from entertaining the professional leisure class, and reflects their own world back at them with an EP of otherworldly synths and eerie carnivalesque chansons.

Tooper Keps has fired up his trusty Yamaha PSR-11 and PSS-360 to write his first (and probably last) EP, condensing his favourite chord changes from years of distracting the retired and affluent. The result is a collection of floating song structures that revolve like fairground waltzes, punctuated by modulated effects, cowbells and Tooper’s own bitter tenor. Tapping into his inner goblin, he tackles themes such as property (as theft), Drexler’s gray goo problem, and the ‘merits’ of complaining about a system while also benefiting from it - a typical parasite’s paradox.

“1000 Guest Rooms” finds itself on location in luxury homes, cruise ships and holiday resorts, soaked in Tooper’s own self-loathing while casting a critical eye over the state of the world. While we hurtle towards a future that no one wants, “1000 Guest Rooms” is perhaps the best soundtrack we could hope for.

Hot on the heels of Luv (LuvLuv) comes a sublime new Drum Chums from midland's madlads Wrekin Havoc.
Over the years we've shared great tunes, fun times and A-grade dance floor debauchery with these permanent party people (our first encounter almost exactly like that Spiderman pointing meme) so it made more sense than we usually do to invite them aboard the V*nga bus for some Balearic-Disco edit excellence.

Things kick off with the sexy throb of 'Shine A Light', a stonewashed funk workout complete with Paisley guitars, Troutman bass grunts and some big time blue-eyed soul vocals. It's a bit like an extended and unheard collaboration between George Michael and Tears For Fears recorded immediately after a particularly heavy night at Future. Unsurprising perhaps that this one's been getting a whole lot of love from DJ Harvey.

'Mars Bar Party' grabs you by the hips from the first bar of its swaying Mediterranean house rhythm, then tugs at every single one of your heartstrings with melancholic pads and a silken vocal croon. Fuuuuuuckin' hell! Sorry, was totally bewitched by the primal power of piano house magic - it's like John Rocca was in the room for a second. Armed with an awesome arrangement and clocking in at ten massive minutes, this may be the ultimate Balearic house journey.

If all this wasn't enough to have you stocking up on 5-HTP and sinus rinse, those crafty cats close the set out with the shimmering disco euphoria of 'Leccy Meet Her'. The bottom end pulses endlessly, Cowley synths trill and a crystal clear Vox soar above, sending us far off into mirrorball orbit. If this isn't a hit at Horse Meat, we'll neck a bottle of poppers and never eat a tomato again.

Each and every track Wrekin Havoc touch is a pearler, but we're particularly chuffed with ourselves for snapping this top trio up.

100% Drum Fun Guaranteed. .

Peripheral Minimal records is proud to present it's latest release: Cold Colors / Xiu "Tristesse" 7". The single comes from a cassette released by Vocoder Tapes in 2013. It will be limited to 250 copies on black vinyl.

The two tracks on the 7" are beautifully constructed minimal wave / synth tracks, that are simultaneously melancholic and uplifting, perhaps for comparison we could think of: Figure Study, Xeno & Oaklander or Selofan.

Cold Colors is Frédérick Barbe who hails from Bordeaux. He has released material on several well-known labels, including: Lux Rec, Oráculo Records, Waste Editions, Nocta Numerica, F.I.R., Romance Moderne, and now Peripheral Minimal.

Xiu is Oksana Rodionova who is based in Milan but originates from Estonia. "Xiu's music is a synthesis between retro-pop and futurist synth waves. It delivers spacy looped electronica, groovy rhythms, linear lo-fi synth washes, softly dreamy pop melodies sometimes admitting dramatic tones and mysterious textural ambiences. The conceptual background deals with thematics related to dystopia, occult arts and mystic beliefs."

The recordings were made between France and Italy during the "Loneliness" E.P. sessions 2013 / 14.

2025 Repress

In 2013 Voyage Direct released Tom Trago’s ‘Hidden Heart of Gold’, an expansive trip into intergalactic deep house territory that ranks as one of his most emotionally charged moments to date.

Hidden Heart Of Gold is undeniably special. A typically spacey and quietly soulful dancefloor epic that stretches out majestically over 13 spellbinding minutes. It was a highlight in many of Trago’s club sets for the best part of 12 months prior to release..

Virtual waves of ambient chords shimmer between the speakers, rising and falling as if drifting through time and space. Meanwhile, eyes-closed melodies reminiscent of classic stargazing techno and disembodied vocal samples ride a tough but unfussy machine drum rhythm and addictive bassline. There are well-timed breakdowns and a gradual, enveloping build towards a heart-breaking climax. Many listeners may feel contrasting emotions; a sense of undiluted joy while dancing, perhaps, but also the odd pang of melancholy when listening on headphones. It's that kind of record.

The tracks intergalactic, emotion-rich inspirations are explored further on the flipside Ambient Mix, a winding, beatless excursion brimming with hazy, late night beauty. Gentle and immersive, it offers a grandiose, never-ending world in which to shed your inhibitions. Shorn of the originals dancefloor paraphernalia, Tom's emotive, wide-eyed vision comes to the fore ¿ all sensual chords, far-sighted pads and gentle, outer-space melodies. Like the A-side club version, it may just take your breath away.

Vesu's goes dub!

Vesa-Matti Kivioja, aka Vesu's aka Torolf Stendik has been making waves as an integral part of the multi-faceted Ljudverket & Meltdown Deejays crews in his native Finland for many years. He is perhaps most recognised for his "List of Lizards" saga which began in 2019 on Brian Not Brian's Going Good imprint.

Tokage No Risuto, the third instalment in the lizard saga, sees Vesu's migrate deeper into the dub tradition. The beats have slowed down; the atmospheres thickened. Downtempo rhythms, ambient drifts, and dub-infused echoes weave through the landscape, joined at times by guest voices that shimmer and dissolve into the mix.

The 12-track album is available on a special edition cassette with a vibrantly riso-printed card housed inside a laser printed case, with a striking green cassette. Mastered for tape by Giuseppe Ielasi.

Tokage No Risuto has a number of guest appearances, most notably the legendary musical pioneer and woodwind instrumentalist Tapani Rinne of RinneRadio.

US Black Friday 2025 Release. There are very few albums in the psych/punk/hard rock/private presses strata that garner the sort of universal awe and accolades that Fraction’s almighty Moonblood LP does, and even fewer records in the world that could be dubbed ‘Christian Rock’ incur such fierce devotion. Indeed some records just meteorically lift themselves out any genre tag with brilliance and sheer defiance--and Moonblood is surely one of them. Based in LA, Fraction was a ragged collection of working-class musicians--the line-up was ringleader Jim Beach--vocals; Don Swanson--lead guitar, Curt Swanson--drums, Victor Hemme--bass, and Robert Meinel--rhythm guitar. Beach himself describes those early days: “The guys met through various acquaintances that we had in LA. All of us had been in bands before, but were seeking something with more teeth. We had a small studio in an industrial complex in North Hollywood and started practicing sometimes as early as 4:30 AM. We all had day jobs, so we did what we could.”

Amazingly the recording sessions for the album were recorded similarly on the fly, as Beach further states: “The Moonblood recording took place at Whitney’s Studio in Glendale, CA, early in 1971. On a strict budget, these songs were recorded in less than three hours—all of them “one takes.” We played, all 5 of us, simultaneously-- there were no studio effects, no overdubbing or any additional sound effects added. Basically what you hear is considered ‘old school’ recording.”

This workmanlike description in no way prepares one for the pure tortured genius the session wrought. Particularly noteworthy is Beach’s vocals—as commonly stated, the spirit of Jim Morrison is conjured in his deep baritone, which gives way to unparalleled pained howls, at times bathed in delay which trails into the abyss. Fascinatingly enough, Beach cites the much punker Love as his fave LA band over the Doors, and also gives influence-nods to proto-everything rockers The Yardbirds and to Dylan, whose dark word tapestries surely inspired Beach’s lyrics (though lines from The Doors’ “L’America” pop up on the LP) Whatever the case, the man clearly has a vision, as even the stark sleeve concept is Beach’s own. Equally as integral to the Fraction sound is lead guitarist Don Swanson—his blown-out fuzz riffs set a template for what is now commonly known as “stoner rock” or “acid punk,” and his solos consist of jagged, wah-wah-ed shards of notes, with his amplifier clearly pushed to the limit.

Beach says: “Don’s guitar was always my driving force and he did everything he could to keep it over the top. You’d never know that (his sound) was coming from an old, broken down Esquire. Don kept it alive!” The other members contributions shouldn’t be underappreciated though-- drummer Curt Swanson keeps things at a constant simmer, and then boils over when the whole band launches into snarling glory. The band and LP as a whole equals something indescribably intense from start to finish—comparisons to the Detroit late 60s high-energy bands like The Stooges and MC5 abound, as well as the sort of late 60s damaged spirit lurking in biker clubs and disgruntled Vietnam vets. The song cycle on side 1 of the LP in particular cuts to the emotional core, with severely charged dark lyrics like “Extend your thumbs and burn the darkness out of her.” Which brings us to the Christian aspect--it often can confuse listeners. The Fraction/Beach world of religion is complex and perhaps a bit pagan/sinister than most---fire and brimstone, temptation, and the truth-seeker being burned by this hell on earth—or perhaps as Beach himself best put it: “Speaking for myself, as a believer, it’s been a progressive experience since my childhood.

I think we’re all basically driven to live more than religion.” The album was pressed in a run of but a few hundred to little attention in the day, but now inferior bootlegs flood the marketplace, and originals of Moonblood command thousands of dollars. So enjoy this all-inclusive reissue, which also features for the first time on vinyl, 3 lost tracks-- like the more acoustic-minded “prisms” and “dawning light,” as well as the proto-metal choogle of “Intercessor’s Blues.”

Cintura Interna is João Hã’s new release for Sucata Tapes, a work shaped by accident, drift, and unlikely connections. Its guiding notion comes from “Música Careca” (Bald Music) — a strange term apparently used by Jean Dubuffet to describe his own sound experiments. Dubuffet wasn’t a musician, but he was bald; the phrase lingers as an apt description for music that is naïve without innocence: amateur bruitism, soft sound, raw and direct, where intention is left exposed to errancy.
The piece itself came together without project or plan, eventually forming what Hã calls an “accidental Frankenstein” — or perhaps Frankenoise. Built from recordings made more than 15 years ago on cassette and obsolete equipment, mixed with more recent material, Cintura Interna bridges time and decay, refusing diaristic or documentary framing.
As an unexpected detour, the release also includes a version of the garage classic Louie Louie.

Xexa is still undefined, gliding over her origins, influences, and points of reference. Her music is informed by uploads from all that, processing heritage and future in much the same democratic way, sure of its (her!) path. Synthetic as it may sound, »Kissom« contains the very human element of Xexa's presence, not only through her instantly recognizable ethereal vocals but also manifest in the web of grooves stopping short of »dance«. »Kizomba 003« is the closest she comes to the dancefloor, a reduced take on the popular style of kizomba, a low-key interpretation but with the vocals atypically high in the mix. A brief breath of nostalgia. »Kissom« (title track) prolongs the slow pace, almost as an extended mix of »Kizomba 003«, stretching the sexy bounce for close to 4 extra-delightful minutes.

Everything seems to dissolve into space, as if every track gently expires only to be reconfigured somewhere else, molecule by molecule, perhaps in a different location within our mind. The artist somehow corroborates the feeling, particularly regarding »Será«, »Xtinti«, and »Txe«, which she says »finish exactly where I wanted. They all end with an EQ that mutes the frequencies until they cease to exist«. Here, there, sparse beats, successive waves of ambience, half-machine lips singing close to our ears, a blend of classic 4AD and a metallic environment warmly wrapping around the music. Extra-long, »Quem és tu?« poses the question – Who are we? Who is she? And the title »Kissom« stems from another question Xexa often hears from people, »Ki som é este?« (What is this music?). The answer might well be the artist's own paste of the words »kiss« and »som«. Lovely.

Turbo Recordings is proud to present the revival of German techno giant Gregor Tresher’s Sniper Mode alias with the Riot Gear LP. We have been promised that this release will usher in a Golden Age of Electro in which we will serve at the right hand of the Lord for a starting annual salary of €43,000. Not bad.

Riot Gear showcases Tresher’s established production genius over 11 cuts of S-tier electro marked by menace, depth, and sharp melodic hooks. Lead single “Blinded by the Dark” is a collaboration with Dave Clarke, the most respected man in electro and perhaps just in general, and features the most punishing drop in recent memory. The album also includes standout vocal contributions from Detroit techno pioneer Jay Denham (“Sanctuary of Vices”), Miami Bass kingpin Exzakt (“Echoes From a Wasted Land”), dance-world enigma Kira (“Phantom Pain”), and Turbo favorite Perel (“Modesty Is a Virtue”). We would argue that this album represents a landmark achievement in the genre, which you have to admit would reflect pretty well on us as a label.

It is not every day that Turbo Recordings embraces the responsibility of husbanding a full-album release, and you should know that it comes as a cost. The additional listening time, track title typing, and intensive download/upload workload have pushed our dedicated staff of 90 to its breaking point. We have a lot going on over here.

Straight out of the local mud of the city of Antwerp comes dancing this next Souvenirs from Imaginary Cities slab of free-flowing bits of electronic wonder : Schönen Abend by Simon B. Just in time to ease you out of this endless winter and right into springtime. Like the previous hit by Purple Uncle, this flower takes some time to bloom and fill up your head and body with it's ear wormy fragrance.

It's hazy and cinematic, makes you think of Italian electronic pioneers and their library magic, Patrick Cowley's School Daze and Haruomi Hosono in some kind of gothic manner. It's quite stripped and lush at the same time, rhythms like minimal mechanics make you fly above the river and land just outside reality. It's a nice place where soft jazz tingles right around the dark corner, and that particular mix of exotica and melancholia — the trademark of this port city's best electronic auteurs is definitely in the air. The river still shines, but she’s deeply poisoned. The old town has lost every bit of fresh air but keeps on digging for old gold. This bitter pill is served with delicacy and lightness, the wound is dressed up seductively — feet in the mud, head in the air. Stuff is sensuous, with quiet places reminding of the good side of those times when the big wheel stopped turning ever so madly. A strange quietness whistles through the leaves. Some things take time to unfold. In or out of C.

Four years in the making, this is the solo debut LP of Simon B, a longtime contributor to Antwerp's improvised music scene (Groovecats Deluxe, Wij Blij Trio ). Primarily a double bass player, he also has a deep-felt passion for offbeat electronica and the rainbowy side of American minimalism, which takes front here. The smoky voice on the last track belongs to Nina-Joy Thielemans, Nina-Joy is part of Particals, a trio working with live electronics and field recordings, releasing an lp on Ultra Eczema later this year. Furthermore, you can hear the tenor and soprano saxophone of Adia Van Heerentals on 4 tracks, deepening out Simon's naturally flowing compositions and playing around with his melodies. You may know her from Bodem and her strong presence in the Belgian jazz scene lately.

Simon's electroacoustic experiments — using a clarinet and some outboard effects — were important tools in finding the very specific colour of this record. There's this airy character, like wind blowing through old layers of bricks and over the river, anchored with a deep sense of bass, gathering ages of dust and memories in these eight elegantly wobbling tracks, forming a perfect whole that’s really coming together in one deep listening from A to Z.

The centrepiece is perhaps Come to Me, instrumental and reprise with vocals, but no fillers on this one. Every part of the mystery is needed to come to its end and back again. It's a record that works in the morning, to open up a day and in the quiet corners of the night, with it's sleazy quirkiness, smiling towards you from the right corner of the eye. A perfect compagnon for your long-form wandering habits, light reflections on a wet surface obsessions, coffee slurping in the morning and the forgotten art of beachcombing. Quite essential these days, witnessing a world going apeshit.

When Chuck D proclaimed "Bass, how low can you go?" on Public Enemy's anthemic 'Bring the Noise,' maybe he was pre-empting or inciting the 10,000 fathoms-deep, spine-bending basslines and sub-quake tremors of 'Implosion.'

Implosion is a crushing split album, appropriately released on The Bug's own PRESSURE label. Mapping out a new form of spectral dub, the sound is deliberately immersive, introverted, and yes, definitely implosive. In pursuit of heavy lids, blurred vision, and merciless bass bin punishment, it’s one part meditation, two parts low-end theory, and essentially a confession of devoted sound system addiction.

As expected from a tag team featuring British soundlab explorer and 'London Zoo' composer Kevin Martin, aka The Bug, and Michael Fiedler, aka Jah Schulz—a long-time graduate of Germany's new school of sound system reggae culture—the duo approaches their target differently yet share the goal of keeping their sound "raw" (Fiedler) and "brutally minimal" (Martin). This proves that opposites can attract, even if their tools are different and their methods sometimes diverge.

From such a disparate combo, hailing from different geographical and aesthetic backgrounds, contrasts are certainly on display, even within each artist's own contributions. From the melancholia and transcendence of 'Alien Virus (West Indian Centre, Leeds),' to the duality of ascension and descension on 'Hope,' or the Sunn 0))) in dub, visceral drone of 'Dread (The End, London),' to the tripped-out repetitions of 'Midnight,' which reinvents Chain Reaction for post-millennials, the result is both sacred and narcotic. Each track illuminates the emotional impact and atmospheric pressure being explored across this deceptively sparse album—a mastery of tone and texture.

This collection might be as reduced, minimal, and deep as The Bug has ever gone, perhaps echoing the solemnity of his recent Kevin Richard Martin Black release and invoking the futurist steppas self-pioneered on his previous Pressure album. Alternatively, Fiedler‘s Ghost Dubs project ventures into his most heavyweight direction yet, which is no mean feat considering his previous, the critically acclaimed album Damaged, was a monstrously massive triumph of analogue weight and enviable sound design.

Implosion is ice-cool, a stark contrast to the warmth and sociability of traditional Jamaican roots and the current trends in digi-dub. Instead, the mood is soaked in tension and intense dread, finding an unexpected melting point where classic dub's stark rhythm attack, isolationist ambience's eerie drift, dub techno's floatation strategies, and even the relentless riffs of doom metal collide. As the bass-obsessed pair drop what is arguably the heaviest ambient dub album to emerge from any electronic sector—a moody counterpoint to The Orb's fluffy clouds, etc, Martin has cited The Roots Radics, Black Jade, and On U Sound's Pounding System as heavily influencing his approach to the album, while Fiedler has expressed his admiration for Adrian Sherwood's productions and Rhythm & Sound's enchanting soundscape. Yet, the super heavyweight pulsations, emotive resonances, and bone-rattling vibrations detonated here effortlessly go far beyond these influences.

Shadowy and elusive, there’s a mysteriousness at this record's core. A haunting moodiness oscillating between nostalgia and future shock. Despite the deadly fixation with SLOW and HEAVY, the album maintains a totally hypnotic swing throughout. Implosion and its lead single 'Imploded Versions' are testaments to being enveloped in bass, seduced by bass, submerged in bass, and utterly crushed by bass, as The Bug and Ghost Dubs seek to craft a new form of dub for zonal headz and Babylon seekers.

Mastered by Stefan Betke (a.k.a. POLE) at Scape Mastering studio, this record is heavy as f-ck without resorting to continuous distortion. It’s low-end worship taken to an absolute extreme, yet remains highly listenable and definitely danceable, albeit at the slowest of paces. Sacred and narcotic, this is low-end worship amplified to the max. Dive in if you dare.

His fourth album, City Music works as a counterpart to Morby’s acclaimed 2016 release Singing Saw, an autobiographical set that reflected the solitude and landscape in which it was recorded. Saw was imagined as “an old bookshelf with a young Bob and Joni staring back at me, blank and timeless. They live here, in this left side of my brain, smoking cigarettes and playing acoustic guitars while lying on an unmade bed.” And now follows City Music, the yang to its yin, the heads to its tails. It is a collection crafted using the other side of its creator’s brain, the jumping off point perhaps best once again encapsulated by an image. “Here, Lou Reed and Patti Smith stare out at the listener,” explains Morby. “Stretched out on a living room floor they are somewhere in mid-70s Manhattan, also smoking cigarettes.” It finds Morby exploring similar themes of solitude, but this time framed by a window of an uptown apartment that looks down upon an international urban landscape “exposed like a giant bleeding wound.”

AOKI takamasa and Tujiko Noriko’s 2005 album »28« has become a cornerstone in the artists’ respective discographies. 20 years after its initial release, Keplar issues it on vinyl for the very first time. Three years in the making, »28« saw the sound artist and the avant-pop singer-songwriter combine their distinct aesthetics for an album that defied categorisation. Their combination of advanced electronic experimentation and pop appeal paved the way for a new generation of artists and turned »28« into an enduring fan favourite. Remastered by Stephan Mathieu, the reissue comes with a brand-new artwork by Joji Koyama and a changed track listing—authorised by Takamasa and Tujiko—for the vinyl version to fit it on a single LP, while the digital version remains identical to the original release.

Tujiko and Takamasa first shared the stage together after the turn of the millennium. Both were emerging solo artists, with Takamasa a mainstay on the Progressive Form label and Tujiko forging a connection with Mego in Vienna, Austria. »I simply liked Noriko’s voice and music, and since we often performed at the same events, it felt like a natural progression for us to start working together,« remembers Takamasa. They first collaborated in 2002 for two shows at the Fondation Cartier in Paris and at SonarLab in Barcelona, respectively. The first joint piece was a rework of Tujiko’s »Fly« from »Hard Ni Sasete (Make Me Hard)« by Takamasa, appearing as the album opener »Fly2« on »28.«

After that, the Paris-based Tujiko and Takamasa, still based in Osaka, worked sporadically and remotely on new material. For the first two years of their collaboration, the two met in the context of live events or Takamasa’s visits to the French capital to discuss their process and exchange hard drives while also occasionally sending each other CDrs in the mail. »Aoki made beats and sounds that complemented my music perfectly, building the foundation on which my voice could float,« Tujiko says today. Takamasa used hardware such as the Nord Modular, the Korg Z1, and the Korg ER-1, while also working with different kinds of software and plug-ins as well as Logic. Tujiko was using Cubase, her preferred piece of gear at the time being an AKAI MPC.

After Takamasa moved to Paris in 2004, this enabled the duo to finish the album together in person. Starting with its subtle use of glitches to the almost-anarchic way in which it deals with the structures of a song, »28« came to be an incomparably intricate album. 20 years on, it remains timeless because of its flawless synthesis of the cutting-edge avant-garde ideas of early 2000s electronica with an idiosyncratic but accessible pop sentiment. Both artists look back fondly—though not uncritically, with Takamasa noting a certain »youthfulness« in his contributions—to the album that was titled after their respective age at that time. »Maybe we should make ›51‹ now?,« quips Tujiko. See you in three years, perhaps.

This Transition's label album features the concert that Donald Byrd Sextet gave in Detroit on August 23th, 1955 organized by the New Jazz Society, a group formed under the impetus of Kenny Burrell, one of the key influences in Detroit jazz.


The reissue of this hard-to-find album is significant for a number of diferent reasons. Its very rarity is one attraction for certain collectors, but more important perhaps is the fact that it was the first recording as featured artist for trumpeter Donald Byrd. It is also extremely revealing of the depth of the jazz scene in 1950s Detroit, which had nurtured Byrd and from which he was just emerging at the time of this concert.

Green Vinyl. Twenty-five years after their first recording, Panzerpappa - perhaps Norway's most cordial avant-prog ensemble - felt the time had finally come to release their first-ever concept album. In 2025 the band will launch Landsbysladder, their eighth studio release. Landsbysladder is Norwegian for "village gossip" and the album comprises seven instrumental pieces centred on the themes of rumours, tales, and gossip in a small village - a musical chronicle of minor and major dramas unfolding in a tight-knit community where everyone knows everyone - or at least thinks they do. Landsbysladder tells a vivid story without uttering a single word. The music shifts between open, melodic passages and sudden bursts of intensity, drive, and complexity. Tempo changes, rhythmic twists, and harmonic detours mirror the unpredictable way gossip can spread, grow, and shift the mood in an instant. The album features several distinguished guest musicians: renowned folk artist Rannveig Djonne on diatonic accordion, seasoned performer Silje Hveem Lofthus on flute, internationally acclaimed soloist and professor Håkon Stene on tuned percussion, Håkon Borve on the rarely heard contra-alto clarinet, and last but not least, jazz luminary Ståle Storlokken - known from Elephant9, Terje Rypdal, Motorpsycho, and Supersilent - on synthesizer.

Going Up, originally released in 1983, is one of the most curious and enduring records from British studio mavericks The RAH Band. Long out of print, it now sees its first ever vinyl reissue courtesy of Shocking Music and Rush Hour.

Led by super-producer, arranger, and multi-instrumentalist Richard Anthony Hewson, The RAH Band has always existed just outside the mainstream. Blending jazz-funk, sci-fi synth pop, and cosmic lounge, their sound never quite fit the mould. That might explain the cult status they’ve held ever since. Beloved by Balearic heads, rare groove collectors, and adventurous synth diggers, Going Up is perhaps their most influential record.

At the centre of it all is the intro track “Messages From The Stars”, the band’s runaway cosmic hit. A spacey, retro-futurist groove that has become a viral favourite in recent years, it now boasts hundreds of millions of streams, with a new generation discovering it through TikTok and YouTube. But it was originally just one track on this understated 1983 album.

The rest of Going Up is just as compelling, filled with dusty drum machines, off-kilter instrumentals, woozy vocals, and that unmistakable early '80s charm. It is a snapshot of a band in transition, blurring the lines between leftfield pop, sci-fi funk, and home-brewed synth experiments.

Out of print for over 40 years, Going Up finally gets the reissue treatment it deserves. Restored and remastered, and still sounding like nothing else.

Fin" is the fourth album by Spanish band Exnovios, a group that has been described as a blend of Spacemen 3 influences and the best of Spanish '60s pop. The new dozen songs that make up their fourth LP happily shifts away a bit from to the usual unbeatable formula of this Pamplona-based quartet (garage reverbcore as if sung by Spanish legends Juan y Junior) and add new and fascinating layers-at once fresh yet entirely logical in the evolution of such a unique band within the local scene. Exnovios' new collection of songs wasn't created in a rehearsal space or recorded in a single week in the studio. Rather, it was composed and rehearsed slowly in bedrooms and living rooms-songs that were later brought into the studio with the idea of finishing building them there. Over the course of nearly a year, the band approached each song one by one, in a handcrafted manner, alongside their trusted ally, producer Guillermo Mutiloa. The result is a treasure trove of songs, perhaps more psych-folk than ever, as acoustic pieces abound-full of exquisite melodies without abandoning the consciousness-expanding journeys that have made Exnovios a cult favorite: from the instant classic 'Nubes' (with its very Byrds-like harmonies and gorgeous twelve-string acoustic guitar), to the delightful Big Star-style fiction of 'El cine se queda en silencio', or even the fabulous cover of Stephin Merritt's 'Tú tú tú tú.' These are often drumless tracks, perhaps with some light percussion, always featuring detailed and exquisite arrangements of guitar, electronics, percussion, and even touches of strings. And despite the reduced presence of drums (which, along with the laid-back recording approach, makes this almost Exnovios' "White Album"), fans of the band's legendary fuzz-guitar reverbcore sound won't be disappointed: there's the psychedelic 'Viaje Alucinante', full of their classic riffs; their brutal cover of Psychic TV's 'Godstar' (drenched in echo and eccentric vocal effects); and the perfectly crafted 'Naves Misteriosas', which pulls off the impossible feat of sounding like 'Cerca de las Estrellas'-era Los Pekenikes in the verses, Phil Spector in the chorus, and the Ramones in the post-chorus. And there's much more: percussion reminiscent of the most 'baggy' Primal Scream on the brilliant 'Aún no es tarde'; love lyrics wrapped in an exquisite drum machine soaked in reverb and Suicide-style Farfisa on 'Ha venido a quedarse'; the beautiful two-chord electronic Christmas carol 'Ya es Navidad'; and that lysergic waltz that sings of the peace brought by karmic revenge, carried along by waves of fuzz and delay, titled 'El día del juicio final.' "Fin" reveals more sides and nuances of Exnovios than ever before-a festival of eclectic styles that all remain true to the musical vision that has defined them over the past decade, with their melodic powers at the peak of their talent.

Embrace The Abandon is the new project by THE MON, the solo vision of Urlo, vocalist, bassist, and founding member of the Italian heavy-psych veterans Ufomammut.

Structured in two complementary chapters — Songs of Abandon (November 7th, 2025) and Songs of Embrace (March 6th, 2026) — the project tells a journey of duality: loss and surrender on one side, acceptance and rebirth on the other.
The first chapter, Songs of Abandon, is perhaps the most intimate and vulnerable work Urlo has ever created.
Born in a moment of solitude and personal darkness, the album originated from a radical exercise: writing one song a day, for nine consecutive days, using only acoustic guitar and voice.
A collection of stripped-down, emotionally raw ballads. Rooted in acoustic textures and intimate songwriting, these songs explore loss, vulnerability, and the quiet spaces left behind — a personal exorcism of what could have been but never was.
Later, these sketches were shaped into fully realized tracks, with lyrics and subtle layers of sound — not to overwhelm, but to underline the fragile, raw atmosphere that pervades them. The result is a stripped-down, emotionally charged collection that embodies an inner search: the power of music as a tool to face abandonment, to dig into oneself, and ultimately to glimpse the possibility of an embrace.
With Embrace The Abandon, THE MON reaffirms itself as one of the most personal and uncompromising projects.
It is a body of work that fuses vulnerability and strength, speaking directly to the listener with sincerity, leading them through shadow towards light.
An intimate yet powerful sound experience, intertwining the minimalism of acoustic folk with the dark, visionary tension that has always defined Urlo’s artistic path.

As trans-Atlantic alchemists pulling from a shared dialectic that somehow encompassed both postmodern deconstructionist tendencies and a delightfully subversive sense of poptimism, it’s easy to see how David Cunningham and Peter Gordon immediately hit it off upon initially meeting each other back in the late-1970s at the height of their youthful transgressions. Having initially worked together on the second Flying Lizards’ LP fourth wall, with its ingenious fusion of dismantled rhythms and rearranged melodies juxtaposed against the slyly sultry singing of Snatch’s Patti Palladin— with Gordon adding a few sprinkles of mischievous sax in the mix— it’s no wonder the collaboration would lead to further musical adventures.

Which leads us directly to the genesis of The Yellow Box. Embarking on a collaborative exercise in the structural repurposing of music as untethered puzzle pieces in need of rearrangement with no predetermined outcomes, the duo gave birth to a project that would see them move through both time and recording studios across Europe, taking nearly two years from 1981-1983 to complete. Enlisting the great Anton Fier on drums from The Feelies/Lounge Lizards nexus and John Greaves on bass from Henry Cow/Soft Heap lore to round out their dueling creative counterparts, the album would be something of a lost treasure until its eventual release on Cunningham’s Piano imprint in 1996.

Cinematic in scope, and filled with drifting drones, beautiful counter-melodies, eery minimalism, Kraftwerkian synthesizers, looped voices, skronky interludes, and other shifting undercurrents of sound, it was an album that utilized both a diverse array of expressive languages, as well as early sampling techniques and prepared instruments, well before most people were thinking in such expansive, integrated terms at the dawn of the 80’s. But such is life at the vanguard of new music. And one of the reasons that it likely sat on the shelf for so long before finally being released well over a decade later. Like a sparser, less groove-oriented version of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, or a more radical take on the experimental work of Can’s Holger Czukay, The Yellow Box stands at the crossroads of time and technology, fusing multiple strands of musical thought and compositional techniques into a disjointed whole that somehow still comes off as a conceptually complete record.

Now, here it is again, over 40 years later, with perhaps even more historical resonance than it had before, remade and remodeled just waiting to be rediscovered again.

On the streets of Berlin, it's easy to spot people who know their electronic music. You'll see curious partygoers as well as picky listeners whose appreciation isn't easy to win. Tonight, both crowds are heading to the presentation of Daniel Gardner's record. A cult album that was revived thanks to a fresh concept and a remaster. By evening, Jonny Knuppel was packed. Among the guests - a flamboyant duo that couldn't go unnoticed. Some swayed to rhythms that felt like old friends, while others - luckier ones, perhaps - were discovering an entire world for the first time. As they approached the booth, Plate leaned in with a warm smile:

Unchained is the long-standing guitar-based project of Nate Davis, originally from Providence, RI, and based in France for over a decade. In his two most recent LPs—Gabbeh (2024, A Colourful Storm) and Frontalier (2025, Stern Records)—Davis strives to describe a new path for outsider jazz instrumentalism that remains committed to harmonic and rhythmic form while placing greater emphasis on sonic texture through experimental production techniques.

Release Description:

Unchained—a name which at the project's inception or on earlier recordings spoke perhaps to the ecstatic saturation of high gain guitar—has over the past three albums (N.D. Visitor, Pic, and Gabbeh) come to represent more and more an acknowledgement of and sensitive remove from a crashing world. An excuse of oneself from trend towards a siloed artistic development.

On Frontalier, Nate Davis crosses further into this patient personal lexicon of guitar composition, presenting a new set of richly developed songs and leaps in arrangement which may very well shock Unchained fans the world over. The sympathetic geometric guitar themes of the earlier second-period Unchained style are almost entirely absent, making way for a fully realized presentation of the jazz, MPB, and fusion influence present to varying degrees on the previous three albums. Davis's keen sense of melody and songcraft have never been stronger, here landing on music which is at moments evocative of Wes Montgomery, Allan Holdsworth, Jobim, or the jazzier impulses of Lô Borges. Distinct in Davis's music, however, is what these references might belie: an innate tending towards repetition as an affective tool—one which has less to do with the aesthetics of the scene from which the project emerged than it does with devotional prayer. In this way it feels as if Unchained has always been music for living. What was once a maximalist expression of youth has matured into the sound of living with and in the world and an empathic transmuting of all the joy, disappointment, and ambivalence that comes with it. Songs that feel like the sort of thinking one does looking out the window on a long train ride, or the routinism of internal and external life and the breaking out of it. As much as it will be recognized by the fandom as a significant step forward, Frontalier serves also as a perfect gateway for new listeners to the singular music of Unchained.

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

Arriving two years after the first chapter, Absurd Matter 2 isn’t just a sequel, it’s an evolution, redrawing the boundaries established by its acclaimed predecessor. The Berlin-based Italian producer tempers his confrontational sonics with rare moments of introspection, shifting seamlessly between blown-out noise, warped hip-hop, mutant club experimentation, and weightless ambience. Textures disintegrate and reassemble, rhythms flex and crumble, and every detail balances on the edge of fantasy. It’s a poetic, layered response to Nino Pedone’s changing physical reality: the gradual hearing loss and perceptual renegotiation triggered by Ménière’s disease, which struck him in 2022. At first, the experience felt like betrayal, a brutal disconnection from the very sense that had shaped his life. But over time, the disorientation turned into a strange kind of focus. The silence between sounds became as expressive as the sounds themselves.
The first Absurd Matter was a visceral reaction to trauma; the second is more reflective – an ambiguous chronicle of sensory recalibration. Pedone doesn’t represent his altered inner reality through extremes, but through depth, zooming in on illusory distortions, tense rhythmic fluctuations, and fragmented sonics. Dense, immersive, and mystical, the album mirrors Pedone’s evolving relationship with perception itself.
Tinnitus-like feedback wails and noir-ish strings introduce “Repeater”, making it immediately clear that Pedone is painting a more delicately finessed image this time around. Fleshed out by raps from cult MCs billy woods and E L U C I D, the track is marked by subtle, sophisticated contrasts: the blurred, inverted rhythms that couch Armand Hammer’s haunted back-and-forth, and the glitchy interference that offsets the lavish orchestral phrases. Backwoodz associate Fatboi Sharif lends his Lynchian drawl to “Bandage Chipped Wings”, grounding Pedone’s lysergic rhythmic distortions with syrupy, horror-inspired couplets. Pedone also invites discomfort into “Crash Landing”, with droning, metallic tones that contradict South Central rapper ICECOLDBISHOP’s elastic flow. “Bitch, I don't give a fuck about anybody,” he squawks over Pedone’s incongruous rasping textures and time-warped beats, “cash out at any party.” Working alongside London’s Loraine James on production, Pedone reunites with Moor Mother on “I Saw The Light”, blending James’ soft-focus atmospherics with soundsystem-damaging, overdriven bass hits and rusted percussive snips. Moor Mother’s assertive words hover over the wreckage, tightening Pedone’s themes of overstimulation and altered awareness as they stutter and veer off course, vanishing into the backdrop.
Contrasting his more pensive experiments, Pedone’s dancefloor deviations are more concentrated on Absurd Matter 2 than ever before. He torches a stuttering dembow structure on “X”, obfuscating the rhythm’s familiar energy with disturbing audio hallucinations. On “Splintered”, he reunites with Kenyan prodigy Slikback, mangling neon-lit trance arpeggios with dissociated trap rhythms. He sharpens his skills to a fine point on “Oblivion Step”, observing 2- step through a lens of distortion and personal abstraction, shaking blipping synth leads over neck-snapping drums and counteracting the momentum with airless sci-fi soundscapes.
Perhaps the album’s most surprising moment arrives with “Viel”, which features vocals from Los Angeles-based composer Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Together, Pedone and Smith chance upon their notion of dub techno, fogging synth stabs and ghostly vocal traces into eerie harmonic distortions. On some level, it’s almost pop music, a far cry from the bleak dissonance of Absurd Matter and a hopeful way to reframe turbulence as transformation. Absurd Matter 2 doesn’t simply document a process; it enacts one. It doesn’t offer clarity; it invites disorientation. It’s not a map of the labyrinth, but a foghorn piercing the darkness.

Quattro Racconti" is a new version of the debut solo album from Wobbler's Lars Fredrik Froislie - This time in Italian, with Stefano "Lupo" Galifi from the legendary Museo Rosenbach on vocals! "Fire Fortellinger" became a great success when released in 2023, and when the opportunity for Lars to do one of the songs in Italian with Galifi, he did - and the 10" release of "Un Posto Sotto il Cielo" came out. And later, when Wobbler played a festival in Italy in 2024, Froislie went to visit Galifi and to record vocals for the rest of the album. The result is stunning! FROISLIE who is himself a huge fan of Italian Prog in general and of MUSEO ROSENBACH in particular, explains: "When I wrote "Et sted under himmelhvelvet", I imagined an Italian version in my head with just STEFANO "LUPO" GALIFI'S vocals. Not so surprising, perhaps, since he is one of my favourite vocalists. I have loved his slightly raspy, but powerful and soulful vocals, ever since I discovered MUSEO ROSENBACH as a teenager. When the opportunity presented itself, I thought it couldn't hurt to ask him, and it gave me much joy that he was actually willing to sing on this. He brings a new dimension to the songs, and it's incredible that he actually sings just as well today as he did 50 years ago. For me, it was both emotional and surreal to hear a voice I have known and loved throughout much of my life, singing my songs."

"Touch" is the first new album from the groundbreaking post-everything icons Tortoise since 2016. With "Touch", the Tortoise bandmembers Jeff Parker, Dan Bitney, Douglas McCombs, John Herndon and John McEntire harness their collectivist songwriting approach, a slightly anarchistic but resolutely egalitarian process where ideas triumph over ego towards an abstracted muscularity. While there are still excursions into the dusky, elegantly gnarled jazz ambience that flourished on landmark works like "Millions Now Living Will Never Die" and "TNT", "Touch" is perhaps most remarkable for Tortoise"s unapologetic embrace of grand gesture. Aerodynamically re-engineered Krautrock, hand-cranked techno rave-ups, and pointillist spaghetti western fanfares are all imbued with Tortoise"s now-signature internal logic - equally alluring and confounding, a puzzle to be savored rather than solved. Recorded between the three cities, Los Angeles, Portland, and Chicago, "Touch" is the result of an intentional effort by these five musicians to reconnect, recenter, and reinvigorate their sound for what is perhaps the group"s most diverse release to date.

"It may surprise some that, after two decades of silent films, when Alam Ara broke the silence in 1931, it and every South Asian talkie that followed was what we in the West think of as a "musical." Music had been integral to the culture's staged drama going back to the Gupta Dynasty — sometime between the 4 th and 6 th Century CE. Since its inception, South Asian cinema drew heavily from Marathi, Parsi, and Bengali musical theatre and silent film screenings were often accompanied by live music to mimic a live staged experience.

When sound films arrived, actors with serious singing skills became the next wave of stars. Songs were performed live while shooting, with musicians hidden off-camera, to the side or sometimes even in trees. Playback singing — the practice of dubbing a real singer's voice over a lip-syncing actor — didn't become standard until the 1940s.

Thus, the biggest stars of the 1930s were also the greatest singers, with some, like Govindrao Tembe and Pankaj Mullick, excelling as both composers and vocalists. None, however, were more beloved than K.L. Saigal, whose emotional, untrained crooning captivated audiences across the subcontinent. Saigal's voice inspired a young Lata Mangeshkar, who vowed to become India's greatest filmi singer to win his heart. Sadly, Saigal grew increasingly addicted to alcohol, unable to perform without it, and passed away at age 42, seven months before the Partition. Lata never married.

This collection features some of the earliest songs from South Asian cinema, sourced from CDs and LPs found in Jackson Heights, Queens, Coney Island Avenue in Brooklyn, Lexington Avenue in Manhattan, and Oak Tree Road in Iselin, New Jersey — areas home to vibrant immigrant communities. South Asian immigration to New York and New Jersey surged after the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, which lifted non-European quotas. By the 1990s and 2000s, the region's Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi media outlets flourished, especially in Jackson Heights, where such stores outnumbered the total number of regular record shops throughout the five boroughs.

The nascent period of sound film featured a limited palette of musical styles, predominantly Marathi Bhagveet, like the Ghazal, but with greater flexibility of subject matter and rhythm, and Rabindra Sangeet, the approximately 2,000 songs and poems composed by Bengali Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. But there was some evolution as well, with the success of South Asian cinema's first woman composer, the classically trained Saraswati Devi, and the introduction of Western instruments including the piano and Hawaiian guitar.

While much of the music was dark and brooding, perhaps exemplified best by Devika Rani's interpretation of Saraswati Devi's "Udi Hawa Mein" from 1936's Achhut Kannya (Untouchable Maiden), there were moments of brightness, such as R.C. Boral's "Lachhmi Murat Daras Dikhaye" sung by Kanan Devi in Street Singer, an otherwise thoroughly depressing film from 1938 that cemented Devi's and co-star K.L. Saigal's superstardom.

This selection was chosen to emphasise a range of expressivity, instrumentation and style achieved even within the decade's relatively limited scope, setting the listener up for the relative explosion of possibility in the 1940s, to be covered in the next installment of this series."

Innitial pressing soul out at once, now repress in neon green vinyl colour available! Ride bassist Steve Queralt's debut solo album Swallow is a beautifully brooding nine-track collection that combines the darkly textured soundscapes of early M83 and Sigur Rós with an electronic sheen reminiscent of Boards Of Canada. It also features guest vocals from Sonic Cathedral labelmate Emma Anderson (formerly of Lush and Sing-Sing) and Verity Susman (Electrelane, MEMORIALS).Swallow has been slowly but surely pieced together between Ride albums and tours over the past five years and, perhaps as a result, has a slightly dystopian, Blade Runner feel that reflects the liminal spaces in which it was created. Despite the fact that the majority of the album is instrumental, there is plenty of power and emotion poured into these moody, moonlit soundtracks. When words do appear, an underlying anger and political slant emerges and amplifies the album's dark intensity. This is most notable on the closing track, `Motor Boats', where he overlays words from Julie Sheldon's polemic poem The Same Boat ("We're all in the same boat they say, but I would disagree"). According to Steve, these simple words of rejection "capture the reality of our times perfectly". However, it was the collaborations with the two guest vocalists that tied the whole thing together and paved the way to the finished album. "After a few false starts, I had started to doubt the project altogether. It was going nowhere," says Steve. "Then, out of the darkness, Emma got in touch to tell me that she'd found her voice and could I send her some tracks. A few files back and forth and an afternoon in the studio later and we had `Lonely Town' and `Swiss Air'."In the meantime, Verity from Electrelane had added vocals to the song `Messengers' and transformed the track. Matthew Simms, now her bandmate in MEMORIALS, would go on to mix the finished album."Swallow has turned out so much better than I had hoped," enthuses Steve. "I'd fallen out of love with it so many times I was thinking of calling it Loveless. But then, that wouldn't be the whole story...

"Hasabe" is a thoughtfully curated collection of Ethio-groove recordings from one of the overlooked pioneers of 1970s Addis Ababa's vibrant music scene-Ayalew Mesfin and his Black Lion Band. Expect trap drum kits, jazz big-band styled horn sections, funky guitars played through wah wah and fuzz pedals- all seasoned with a unique Ethiopian touch_ For many, the music created in 1970s Ethiopia will sound both familiar and alien: while the trappings of '70s Ethiopian music carry some aspects that those in the West will easily identify with-trap drum kits, jazz big-band styled horn sections, guitars played through wah wah and fuzz pedals-the Ethiopian style of singing, and the modes in which the musicians move, may confound. Perhaps some who have delved into the instrumental Ethio-Jazz of Mulatu Astatke-a well-known Ethiopian musical export, relatively unknown in his homeland-will have a context in which to engage this great compilation of '70s Ethiopian music by Ayalew Mesfin. The music Mesfin created with his Black Lion Band is amongst the funkiest to arise from Addis Ababa; his recording career, captured in nearly two dozen 7" singles and numerous reel-to-reel tapes, shows the strata of the most fertile decade in Ethiopia's 20th century recording industry, when records were pressed constantly by both independent upstarts and corporate behemoths, even if they were only distributed within the confines of the unconquerable East African nation. Ayalew was forced underground by the Derg regime that took control of the country in 1974. Until recently, only four of Ayalew Mesfin's tracks had been reissued, appearing in the well-known "Éthiopiques" series. "Hasabe", a carefully curated collection of his singles, marks the first comprehensive release of this powerful and long-overlooked body of work by an artist whose originality and resistance defined a genre: Ethio-groove. More than four decades later, this album offers the rare opportunity to rediscover a vital and beautiful chapter in global music history. We are now reissuing "Hasabe" once again thanks to a collaboration with Now Again. Pressed on 180g vinyl.

A reissue of a cassette that was originally released on Uramado in 2020, this is the first time this live session appears on vinyl. The performance, featuring Kudo on piano and 3C123 on clarinet, was recorded on October 18, 2009, at the Uramado venue in Shinjuku. A beautiful and quixotic forty-minute set, that reconnects both Kudo and 3C123 with various musical histories, including those of classical composition and free improvisation.

The performance documented on Tori Kudo & 3C123 is a curious one. While they both appear to slip into improvised ruminations at times, for the most part, Kudo performs pieces by Erik Satie on the piano, over which 3C123 teases an excoriating stream of improvisation from the clarinet. His playing here is wild in its poetry: sometimes lushly nestly alongside Satie’s melodies, elsewhere loosing Ayler-esque squalls from the instrument, it’s a bravura performance that is matched, in an indirect manner, by the poise and pacing of Kudo’s generous, fluent recital.

When asked about the thinking behind the performance documented here, Kudo explains by describing the historical juxtaposition of Satie with Takehisa Kosugi’s improvised violin as “an essence of the Japanese art of collective improvisation.” The playing here, as within Japanese collective improvisation, is about sitting ‘alongside’ each other, not necessarily in direct (or even indirect) reference, but rather sharing the space; “just being there together,” Kudo says, and letting go of the need for performers to engage in interplay.

Tori Kudo & 3C123 is certainly part of that tradition, and this is where its curious poetry resides; in that ‘third space’ that sits in between, but not directly connecting, the two performers. Kudo makes an analogy with Fluxus, which is appropriate. But you can also hear their shared history here, somehow, as Kudo and 3C123 have known each other since the eighties, when they shared a house in Kunitachi City, Tokyo. Their musical paths have been multiple – Kudo, of course, best known perhaps for his Maher Shalal Hash Baz ensemble; 3C123 as a member of Vedda Music Workshop, and with other Japanese musicians like Koichiro Watanabe.

Mark Fell inaugurates his new label – The National Centre for Mark Fell Studies – with his first solo electronic material in years; a slinky, ravishing volley of unique dance drills that have been in the works for over a decade, feeling somehow like Derek Bailey dissecting Singeli, or Autechre and Hermeto Pascoal dancing in hyperspace. There’s nothing else quite like it.

Back on the floor for the first time since dealing a pair of deep house 12”s with DJ Sprinkles, sending a contemporary classic in »Protogravity« with Errorsmith, plus a lauded collab with Gábor Lázár – all in 2015 – Fell taps back into core club concerns last explored to this uncompromising extent on his string of »Sensate Focus« EPs released between 2012–2013. He’s hardly been slacking since then, with a slew of far-reaching avant collabs with everyone from Rian Treanor to Limpe Fuchs, Okkyung Lee to Pat Thomas, Explore Ensemble to Will Guthrie – each one blurring distinctions between producer, composer, and conductor.

The »Nite Closures« EP is worth the wait – and then some. As ever, Fell manages to retain a highly distinctive, instantly identifiable sound while also tracing and mapping new bends in the continuum. His exploration of contemporary styles and patterns is here distilled and articulated with a rare, daring playfulness and sinuous intricacy – for over half an hour he flows from frantic to almost emotional at the drop of a snare. Trust it’s not your everyday / everynight club music, with an asymmetric angularity bound to wrong-foot fresher feet, but also the type of absolutely future-facing, skewed machine funk that clubs are crying out for, even if they don’t quite realise it.

As someone who’s witnessed the dominance of colouring-book Jive Bunny DJs recycle tested ideas ad infinitum, the message is a firm do-one to myopic ravers in »Nite Closures«. From the displaced anticipations tested in its extended dub and ravishing, tweaked polymetrics on its version, through a »Large Modulos #3« teeming with organismic details, to the hair-kissing swang of »auchterhouse (inversion)« and its clipped, cascading 2.1-step reprise, Fell offers thrilling new options for the loosey-gooseyest dancers at each turn. For us, it’s perhaps his greatest record this century.

Scintillating, alchemical kosmische; visionary, deep, and luminous; and beautifully sleeved, with gold foiling and silver ink.

Works In Metal fans out a set of acid treatments and finely sharpened blades — cutting, shaping, suspending form. Sounds are melted down and forged as if liquid metal.
The works are paired. Arc’s Blue Flame previews the smoking volatility at the album’s core. Echoes and resonance soften the dissonant, bright textures; all overlaid with Fofana’s signature, percussive kick drums. Welding drills into the discordant thrills and spills of metamorphosis. Sparks fly and the bittersweet arc of change unfolds.
Fofana discreetly folds in text, poetry, and field recordings, spooring their decomposition and recomposition with a prismatic point of view. The coupling Obscure Light (Decomposition) and Obscure Light (Recomposition) marks something new in his music. The pulse is brightly honed, cascading beyond the dancefloor, exultingly eluding musical genre.
Works in Metal is perhaps Fofana’s most narrative album. At its heart is the killer, extended Lure of the Fragment / So Another Sound Suggests Itself. Melodies circle in call-and-response patterns, balancing proximity and distance, signalling the inward gravity required to work with metal. A nested story-line, with birds flying in; an album within an album. Dredging up memories and associations, Fofana filters in selections from his sound-archives. Layered with synths, field recordings become instruments in their own right. The last three minutes proffer precious clarity — a memory, in miniature, flashed onto molten metal.

In 1943 Suzanne Césaire declared that ‘our surrealism will then supply them the leaven from their very depths. It will be time finally to transcend the sordid contemporary antinomies: Whites-Blacks, Europeans-Africans, civilized-savage: the powerful magic of the mahoulis will be recovered, drawn from the very wellsprings of life. Colonial idiocies will be purified by the welding arc’s blue flame. The mettle of our metal, our cutting edge of steel, our unique communions — all will be recovered’. Works in Metal is a tribute to her prophecy; its enactment, sculpted in sound.