Search:pil

As the US retire each of their space going shuttles it appears that exiting the stratosphere is more difficult than ever. Yet there is one pilot who still makes aural excursions into the cosmos, Roland Sebastian Faber. Since the beginning of Aube Records RSF has been serving up his brand of analogue astronomy, creating lush interplanetary sounds and otherworldly vistas.

The new album will be released across a series of 4 limited edition 12" vinyls. This is the 2nd 12 inch From Tronic Jazz The Berlin Sessions. A Guy Called Gerald has spent the last couple of years flitting through shadows, turning up on labels like Perlon, Beatstreet and Sender like a peripatetic prophet of the Berlin underground, seeding the scene with cryptic singles that return to the past to suggest alternate futures. Now he returns to Berlin's Laboratory Instinct label with the follow-up to 2006's Proto Acid: The Berlin Sessions, the album that re-established Gerald as an acid hero and techno auteur. Tronic Jazz: The Berlin Sessions builds upon the foundation established by its predecessor to create an even more powerful statement of intent, one that communicates more persuasively than ever Gerald's vision for techno in its third decade of existence. One immediate difference stands out, this time around. Where Proto Acid offered a seamless mix of 24 cuts, recorded in one epic session, Tronic Jazz collects 13 standalone tracks. That's welcome news to DJs. After so many years of digital anything-goes, you might have forgotten the kind of sounds that are possible with "old" machines: the way a lead stacked against tuned percussion and shrouded in pads can evoke still other sounds, hidden in the mix, or maybe not really there at all. It's a ghostly, suggestive presence, a kind of evocation of infinite possibility within the context of a limited set of inputs. In that sense, Tronic Jazz follows a certain minimalist impulse, but it's far too lush ever to be mistaken for the dread "mnml" of recent years. This stuff is wide-eyed and full of life. When it funks, it funks hard, and when it smoothes out, it can be as intimate as a hand-written note left on a lover's pillow. As "class ic" as Tronic Jazz may be, the album refutes any notion that "class ic" equals "retro," that the ideas have all been expressed before. Tronic Jazz takes the foundations of house and techno as though they were a kind of language, and speaks volumes with them.

Aconito Records' newest acquistion, Alessio Pili, has joined forces with Nax-Acid for his debut release: DGT is Shit; a provocatory title for an EP dedicated to a world that is slowly losing the inner soul of the cult of vinyl and DJ'ing.

THREE DRIVES released GREECE 2000 in 1997 and this huge trance bomb became an instant classic which was & is supported by just about anyone & everyone, ask any trance jock for
his or hers all time top 10 and you defeinitely find GREECE 2000 in it.....no the mention the immense pile of compilations featuring GREECE 2000..... literarily millions of compilations










worldwide incorporates this timeless gem...

UK hardcore oldschoolish tunes !

Hui Terra. The dreamlike shape of the half-heard word, abstracts with faint impressions of bucolic landscape, or handfuls of translucent and brightly-colored gemstones that hold odd, elusive, asymmetrical form. This enchanting, gently surreal debut album from Alex Cobb's Etelin project explores the power and playfulness of impulsive action diffused through electro-acoustic and ambient sound.

This music was created with digital synthesizers and a sampler in the four months immediately following the birth of his first child, a hazy period marked by a lack of regular sleep and a diet of INA-GRM, Nuno Canavarro's "Plux Quba", and Microstoria's "Init Ding" - records that appeared to produce both stimulating and soothing effects on a newborn's nascent consciousness. Recorded and arranged at all hours, this is an album that reflects on moments of tumult and fragility. Cobb sews small sharpnesses and surprises into its movements to uncover different aspects of each sound source, doubling as hypnic starts cast to advance and variate the narrative in subtle and unexpected ways. Sound and atmosphere manifest in eccentric, alchemical fashion, as though forming in processes of sublimation - solids dissipating into vapor - and deposition - clouds resolving and dropping to the ground in piles - to an obscure and domestic rhythm. There's the purveying sense of moving within the boundaries of small, hermetic ecosystem. This is underscored and doused by a slow, blooming sense of warmth; growing joy without bombast. Even the more startling textures conceal this same truth and emphasis, such as the alien, sour salt-butter electronic babble in "Little Rig", largely sampled from Cobb's son's voice at just a week old. It is emotional music - devoted, affectionate, and playful.