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Have Isaac Carter & Callum Asa made the most tasteful tech house EP of recent memory? The short answer is
yes....

Isaac and Callum, known for their respective club nights: OCHI and Planet People have been quietly chipping away at the coalface of underground dance music for quite some time now.

Isaac - perhaps known more widely as a regular at Circoloco & Phonox has shared bills with the likes of Moodyman, DJ Bone, Kai Alce, Laurent Garnier and Marcellus Pittmann whilst being championed by Joy Orbison, Ben UFO, Moxie, Seth Troxler, Raresh and Floating Points to name but a few. With such an impressive CV and wide ranging support, it’s wild to note that the first EP released on his own label, OCHI only came out in 2023. His star is clearly ascending with rapidity - so when we throw long term collaborator Callum Asa into the mix, things start to get really interesting. Calum has been running Planet People for the last couple of years, welcoming incredible names such as Shed, Surgeon, Willow, Ploy, Cooly G, Rroxymore and so many more. Steel sharpens steel and having been surrounded by such esteemed talent, it’s clearly rubbed off on the pair who present 4 polished, meticulously constructed, club ready masterpieces, each with their own distinct feel and an insatiable groove.

‘Feel Me’ sets the scene with a descending baseline that would eek a wiggle out of the most reluctant spectator. The twisted dub eeks out even more groove, locking in a more sinister bounce for the heads. By The time ‘Understand’ get’s into full swing, we’re already under the spell of Carter & Asa, this is the kind of roller that could go on forever and ever. The synth embellishments and washes of analog synth pull us deeper and deeper in, prepping us for the finale , ’Try You’ which simmers with deep, brooding intensity.

The magic of the dup’s appeal is that this EP will find its way into the bags of the deepest diggers and also appeal to a new generation of house fans. Elements of it are accessible , but in the right hands - the EP will open a portal to new worlds.

On her first Harmony Index album, multi-instrumentalist and producer Nico Leibman spotlights the feelings that are most difficult to express, bringing out the friction between her dreamy hooks and harsher sonics. Written almost like a DJ set, the album shifts intentionally between piano-led trip-hop, lounge, dream pop, 2-step and breakbeat house, not languishing in nostalgia but defining a language that's rooted in desire, surrender and forward motion.

Until now, Leibman has been best known as a touring musician, working alongside artists like Jessica Pratt and Ana Roxanne, while slowly putting together new solo material in-between frequent tours. The album was written in bursts over the course of five long years and provided Leibman with a much-needed outlet - a chance for her to lock into her personal musical preoccupations, like Janet Jackson's 'The Velvet Rope', Everything but the Girl's 'Walking Wounded' and Prefab Sprout's 'Jordan: The Comeback'.

It's this era of pop - when nascent technology collided at force with skillful, soulful songwriting - that provides the album's backbone, fleshed out by Leibman's potent meditations on a spectrum of experiences in Los Angeles. And as the record was evolving, Leibman let long night drives crack her creative world open. Embracing the city's notoriously cinematic romantic side, she used the car as a "little chamber of limerence," in her own words, enabling her fantasies and acting as a test system for each song. "If it wasn't hitting in the car," she says. "It wasn't going to be on the record, period."

This sense of motion is evident almost immediately on 'Recognize', when Leibman's breathy words are carried into the night by choppy, uptempo breaks and resonant pads. So even when she simply coos over chugging guitars and bass on the first half of 'Enough', the drop into a low-slung breakbeat is implied. "Another digression, a break in this tension," she sings. "Was I foolish to believe that this was never your intention?" Leibman's tales of disillusionment are imbued with power, buoyed by her pitch-perfect production, with additional help from co-producer Cesar Maria.

On 'Don't Pretend', she sings softly and soulfully over decelerated Timbaland-inspired beats and a dubwise bassline, aided by additional production from Purelink. And 'If' marks the point where she lets go, infusing her euphoria with melancholy as her voice soars alongside the album's most infectious piano riff. Fittingly, the album concludes with 'Trust', a song about surrendering to the possibilities of love that works as a potent metaphor for the album's evolution. Over the course of five years, Leibman learned to let people in, finally trusting the process. "It's also a fantasy of what it would feel like to finally be in love again," she laughs, accepting that it's still just a fantasy. But it's this hope in unfulfilled longing that gives the album its unique character, defining a bold, unguarded voice in LA's experimental pop landscape.

fter 25 years of exploring music from different angles, Chillum Trio lands on Faith In Truth with his third EP on vinyl. Driftlines is a cinematic, multicultural trip through the deeper and dubbier corners of house music, moving freely between hazy atmospheres, broken rhythms, acid lines and warm instrumentation. Across four tracks, eclectic influences blur together and settle into a club-oriented frame.

The EP opens with Dustfire, a deep night-drive cut that slowly draws its scenery around a low-slung beat. A cinematic breakdown gives way to a restless yet understated percussive acid groove, before a Rhodes hook emerges through the dust, carrying a touch of desert heat into the night.

Keeping things mellow and midtempo, Deepskin heads somewhere warmer: a humid tropical beach after midnight, all body heat and salt in the air. What begins loose and sensual gradually turns into ass-shaking garage house, surrounded by cosmic layers, drifting pads and spacious atmospheres.

On the flipside, the tempo picks up while the story continues with Thin Air. A long, lush, phase-soaked horn intro settles into a melancholic dream state, slowly pulling you under. The slow-burning build eventually breaks into a memorable piano line and fractured drums. After a trippy bridge, gentle acid lines lock into place and hold the dancefloor until the wistful finale.

Closing the record, Serotone slips back into downtempo territory with a jazzy, trip-hop-infused groove. Soft vocal fragments, piano and rising arpeggios keep the tension suspended through the middle, before the track mutates into something reminiscent of early-2000s dubby, acid-tinged future jazz and Latin fusion.

Like patterns drawn by wind across desert sand, Driftlines traces the points where different currents meet, overlap and interfere. Rhythms, places and memories crossing paths, briefly forming shapes before drifting somewhere else.

Following one of 2025’s standout EPs, the CEO of the National Centre for Mark Fell Studies fires from the hip in brilliant, club-troubling motion. In step with 30 years of prism-pushing work — and particularly the »Nite Closures« EP, which signalled a concerted return to the dancefloor — Fell pulls aspects of hypermodern dance and electronic music from Chicago, Tanzania, and Japan into his own peculiar agenda.

The hugely distinctive results pull the body into thrillingly unusual, typically ascetic arrangements, activating every pointillist drum hit with attack and decay in a soberly ludic play of rhythmelodic tension and release, executed to delirious ends; 40 minutes of computer music.

As an artist who witnessed first-hand the explosion of electronic music in early ’80s Sheffield, and its interplay with house and rave as it refracted into wild new styles during the ’90s, Mark Fell is uniquely positioned to pursue his passion for the dynamics of electronic dance music to the nth degree. »Servitude In Context« continues to develop ideas around music for movement in the mid-2020s, placing decades of keen observation — from the macro and historical to the niche and hypermodern — at the service of flexing bodies in new directions.

Long-held notions of multistability manifest in what feels like two machines playing chess on the dancefloor, attempting to adapt to each other’s playing styles and patterns in real time, anticipating and zigzagging around the next move. The result is a plethora of options for limber dancers and those who only bust a move inside their heads.

The slow-fast play of accelerating and decelerating strikes, alongside monotonic chatter in »Actuations #1 (Extended)«, acclimatises the body to a uniquely sensual physics. This develops into the rudely screwed, asymmetric angularity of »Time-Slur« and the shatterproof elasticity of »Taut Manifold«, which feels like an LLM trained on Autechre.

»Low Energy Mantra« offers the EP’s closest resemblance to melodic structure, like gamelan and footwork refracted through lab-grown diamonds. Then »Anode« flashes its teeth with a rudeness recalling the latter stages of Fell’s Pat Thomas jams, before »3 Lost Contours (Pts 1–5)« tilts into 12 minutes of proper quicksilver madness, balancing the sexiness of his Sensate Focus work with an updated, clean-hoofed step and parry.

Coming off his first two years as a solo artist, Nick Schilder paused for a moment of contemplation. How do you keep growing as an artist, and continue making music without falling into routine? Returning to his artistic foundation—guitar on his lap, hours behind the piano—the Dutch singer-songwriter let intuition guide him, leading to his brand-new EP, Reflections.

After a summer jam-packed with festivals, Reflections provides contrast—the tracks harness a more organic sound, hitting closer to the heart, drawing from folk and pop while leaving space for the echoes of his foray into electronic music to resonate. From ‘Made For You’ to focus track ‘Die For You’ and ‘A Little More Like Me’ marking the turning point, this EP offers a sonic snapshot that bridges two seasons, a creative reset born of reflection.

Reflections is available as a limited edition on transparent vinyl. The package contains an insert with lyrics.

Mothers of All is Mark Gomes' second album as Blue Chemise for Students of Decay, following 2018’s acclaimed Daughters of Time. Though built from very different materials, it shares its predecessor's economy, sense of proportion, and fascination with the ways domestic life can open onto larger and less easily defined realms. Where Daughters of Time evoked tender, if alien, nursery songs, Mothers of All takes the form of spectral salon music heard at a temporal and geographic remove.

These pieces feel fundamentally receptive, with Gomes allowing his chosen fragments to retain their own histories - both personal and aesthetic - while revealing unexpected tonal relationships through their idiosyncratic arrangement. The resulting music is at once deeply personal and strangely unmoored, a space where the intimate and the distant occupy the same plane.

What lingers about this project as a whole is the paradox that the most private experiences can also be the least singular: that family, memory, and devotion become most legible at the point where they cease belonging to any one life.

Madelyn Byrd returns to Glasgow’s Somewhere Press with a hazed set of weightless soundscapes. »Night Rider« opens in widescreen with the chirp of cicadas dancing across a desert landscape, before Shiroishi’s saxophone eventually cuts through the dark like neon. The story Byrd tells is close to their heart: they spent their teenage years in the Sonoran Desert, the vast subtropical expanse spanning parts of Arizona, California, and Mexico. Its seemingly alien landscape — pocked with giant, tree-like cacti and looming rocky outcrops — is lodged in the cultural memory, a quality Byrd draws on as they slowly reveal their poetic narrative.

The album plays like a road movie of sorts, moving through Byrd’s memories and setting them to very different rhythms. Clattering drums emerge on »Of Nature, Of Bodies, Of Dreams«, while Byrd’s soft tones, processed to sound almost otherworldly, glide gently across the metallic clangs. Each track highlights a form of movement: there is the microscopic, insectoid crunch of »Imprint«, where guitar prangs meet Shiroishi’s spirited runs, while »Into Sonoran Pool« creates motion from the atmosphere itself, recreating the thick desert air with shimmering electrical currents and psychedelic processes.

At this point, the album begins to echo Robert Ashley’s late-period theatrical work: compositions that broke with familiar formats, juxtaposing dialogue with knowingly experimental orchestral flourishes. Byrd strikes a similar note through a fusion of poetry, sound design, choral music, and chiming, listless ambient elements that also recall Harold Budd. Budd grew up in the Mojave Desert, which borders the Sonoran, creating an eerie parallel with the moods he conjured throughout his long career.

Byrd finds a similarly aesthetic link to the West Coast landscape, referencing the history of experimental music while establishing their own voice. As the album rides into the sunset with a roar of engines, they offer a distinct vision of pop: »What Is, What Was« integrates a chugging break and ketamised vocal hook, while the finale, »In Perfume, Remember«, lands as a James K-like heartmelter.

For ten years Spike Fuck has existed more as a messy myth than an art- ist; sporadic works forever poised on the precipice of triumph, rumours of death or insanity and so on. Spike’s mission is to distill the sacred and profane, balancing the melancholy and humour of life; “to be alive is to be traumatised.” Luckily, the devotion to his music persevered, some- what bolstered by his inconsistency and inaccessibility. This inexplicable goodwill towards his artistry is perhaps partly due to Spike’s timeless, pained and confessional lyricism, though more pointedly, the fragility of a life mired in addiction. His being or works does not question the virtue of life, but simply addresses the numb, pragmatic and far more immediate matter of surviving another day, an almost ineffable senti- ment only justified by his distinct, poetic audaciousness. Free from his arresting thoughts, evidence, the long anticipated debut album, is a bra- zen proof of life statement. Convicted by the outlandish idea of evidenc- ing a ‘you had to be there’ mentality, the record honours the presence in body, a record to be felt, never to be rationalized.

The material on evidence touches on elements of new wave, glam, soul and doo-wop, citing Pere Ubu, New York Dolls, The Temptations and Bettye Swan as key influences. Melodically it emits the energy of a down- and-out CBGBs band who cashes in by recording a lucrative Christmas album.

Spike frequently uses sonic and lyrical juxtapositions to perform comic twists of sincerity, a reflection of society's obsession with ‘getting a rise’. On “Bored to Death,” a scuzzy, laidback and soulful tune, paired with morbid ragebait lyrics that payoff as a stand up joke “when I look up at the sun it makes me so happy cause I know one day it’s gonna kill me, and it’ll kill you too!” Lead single “All By Myself” carries on in this fashion; with feelgood, family-friendly punk doo-wop production, Spike is misleading on if his joy comes from the pride in solitude, or from lone- liness and a ‘give me everything’ mentality in the act of shooting heroin. The vocal performances oscillate between being blasé, vulnerable and manic; “Sweet Release” meets power-ballad criteria solely due to Spike’s deteriorating cries into the void, the jittery delivery on “Getting Sober” embodies religious fanaticism while sounding like a pop song written by Suicide for a David Lynch film.

evidence is an album that lives outside the limits of discourse; its purpose is eponymous and self-evident. It is what it is, and is subject to interpretation. There is no point in interrogating attachments, virtue or value. The only rightful way to live is to be.

a 01. CAN'T GET IT UP 4:38
b 02. HAD YOUR WAY 4:04
[c] 03. SWEET RELEASE [3:27]
[d] 04. BORED TO DEATH [3:31]
[e] 05. ALL BY MYSELF [2:38]
[f] 06. GETTING SOBER [3:33]
[g] 07. BLUELIGHT[4:35]
[h] 08. HATE ME [7:44]

[a] 01. CAN'T GET IT UP [4:38]
[b] 02. HAD YOUR WAY [4:04]
[c] 03. SWEET RELEASE [3:27]
[d] 04. BORED TO DEATH [3:31]
[e] 05. ALL BY MYSELF [2:38]
[f] 06. GETTING SOBER [3:33]
[g] 07. BLUELIGHT[4:35]
[h] 08. HATE ME [7:44]

[a] 01. CAN'T GET IT UP [4:38]
[b] 02. HAD YOUR WAY [4:04]
[c] 03. SWEET RELEASE [3:27]
[d] 04. BORED TO DEATH [3:31]
[e] 05. ALL BY MYSELF [2:38]
[f] 06. GETTING SOBER [3:33]
[g] 07. BLUELIGHT[4:35]
[h] 08. HATE ME [7:44]

[a] 01. CAN'T GET IT UP [4:38]
[b] 02. HAD YOUR WAY [4:04]
[c] 03. SWEET RELEASE [3:27]
[d] 04. BORED TO DEATH [3:31]
[e] 05. ALL BY MYSELF [2:38]
[f] 06. GETTING SOBER [3:33]
[g] 07. BLUELIGHT[4:35]
[h] 08. HATE ME [7:44]

[a] 01. CAN'T GET IT UP [4:38]
[b] 02. HAD YOUR WAY [4:04]
[c] 03. SWEET RELEASE [3:27]
[d] 04. BORED TO DEATH [3:31]
[e] 05. ALL BY MYSELF [2:38]
[f] 06. GETTING SOBER [3:33]
[g] 07. BLUELIGHT[4:35]
[h] 08. HATE ME [7:44]

IVM Trio is made up of percussionist & composer Sébastien Forrester, producer & visual artist Mika Oki, and artist & producer Apulati Bien. All three sit within the French-Brussels axis, united by a shared love of free improvisation, sparse atmospherics and rapturous club mutations. Inner Voice Movement is a genuinely exploratory record — abstraction and contemplation sit side by side, as the trio dives into the micro-precision of computer music while mirroring organic, environmental schemes. These have long been persistent points of study for all three artists.

Arriving on Accidental Meetings, their debut album has been a long time coming, and it features three outstanding vocalists. South Korean artist bela brings the depth and range of their guttural vocals; Bristol-based Grove, a leading voice in punk-dancehall crossover, pulls things back with a spoken-word feature; and Naples sound artist Sara Persico rounds things off with a stunning excerpt of storytelling.

Ian Simmonds presents his new album "The right side of kind" on Goldmin Music. Ian Simmonds is one of the most creative Nu-Jazz/Downtempo producers of the last 20 years.
Although these words can't describe his music properly as the man is always looking for an innovative sound that could cross the boundaries of musical styles. The Welsh-born found his inspiration in music from all over the world and his songs don't only express one clearly defined feeling. They are more of a subtle mix of emotions that let the listener interpret it his way. As Ian said himself: "I think there's a lot of beauty in melancholy". For example, he spent over a year living in a castle in Germany to record his last album " The Burgenland dubs" in a solitary atmosphere where he could really think, breathe, make a plan. That's the point, Ian is always re-thinking things over, looking for a new source of inspiration which results in a constant evolution. He had the chance to collaborate both with amazing musicians like Goldfrapp and electronic music heads like Mathias Kaden, Soulphiction, Krause Duo..

Fohn conjures a dreamlike landscape of introspective beauty, loneliness and transience from analogue tape and field recordings on new album, Porcelain.

A late summer evening in southern France. The dry mistral wind billows the washing that hangs outside the windows on narrow streets, bringing with it the first whispers of autumn. In the distance children are playing in the square, their shouts caught in the dust whipped up by their feet. A bell tolls, the light dies, and a rich, compelling solitude descends.

Violinist and multi-instrumentalist Fohn, aka Tom Connolly, describes the act of making music as “building fictional environments that become places of solace,” and a process of translation and projection that bridges his internal and external worlds.

While musicians like John Also Bennett, Oren Ambarchi and Connolly’s own group Quade drift behind his sound, Porcelain draws its temperamental inspiration from films like Call Me My Your Name and Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Mirror, as well as the sculptures of Anthony Gormley, whose solitary figures stand isolated in expanses of water along the UK coastline.

How does Connolly describe the atmosphere he wants the music to evoke? “It's the feeling of the inevitability of something having to pass,” he answers. “It's compelling because it's fundamentally unattainable. You're searching and grasping for something that you can never fully hold.”

A moving, intimate and deeply personal album, Porcelain shimmers in the illusive light of melancholy. For Connolly it provided the release of catharsis, but it’s a feeling that will mean something different to everyone who listens.

Ecstatic’s dreamiest cadets bliss out on a new album of acoustic and electric guitar, harmonium and synth tapestries, notably nestling a Romance cameo within a genteel toggle of atmospheric pressure.

Back on (side) road after releasing quietly acclaimed kosmische gem ‘I Had too Much to Dream Last Night’ back in 2021 and the lysergic lushness of ‘Listen to the Sky’ a couple of years later, Celestial suggest a more sublime return to earth with the shine-eyed wonders of ‘I Can Hear the Grass Grow’, an album that soothes to the supine in eight shimmering parts of pearlescent melodic motifs marbling harmonious backdrops intended to tenderly comb nerves straight.

The duo take their role as seductive sandmen with a curious melodic wit that leaves something to the imagination whilst nudging it along the album’s narrative thread. A courtly flamenco lick flickers in opener ‘The Endless Stair’, one of the most restrained recordings we've heard from the childhood friends; blessed with just a little reverb and echo, as if a mic's been lowered into some dimly lit basement while Celestial puzzle out mystifying, interlocking harmonies. It hits a mid-point between John Fahey's raga-inspired Americana and Vini Reilly's rain-soaked Northern blues - the emotion throbs from every note.

Celestial's music is never too polished, giving it the fuzzy, uninhibited flair of a long-lost mail order private press and instilling it with a level of humanity that's rare to discover in the new-new age. Even when mysterious labelmate Romance turns up to ornament 'Mermaid Boulevard' with backmasked electronics, it's their low-slung Ry Cooder-esque guitar/bass that provides the narrative anchor, while the title track and spongiform analog textures of ‘Song For The rainy Season’ dial it right down to a Harmonia-via-BoC pastoral sublime. Vini Reilly and Eno’s influence is most surely felt on the swaying elegance of ‘Sweet Sleep, Angel Mild’, with a central motif that lingers on the mind long after it’s stopped playing, whilst their closing couplet perfectly resolves the cycle with a melancholic kiss-off for the ages.

Every coastline develops its own rhythm. The Adriatic is no exception.

For decades, Italy’s eastern coast has been shaped by funk, Cosmic Disco, Balearic sounds, Italo Disco, House, Latin rhythms, Brazilian music and countless other influences. Rather than blending into a single style, these musical worlds have lived side by side, constantly inspiring new generations of DJs, musicians and dancers. For more than fifteen years, Soul Fingers and Funk Rimini have explored that landscape from different perspectives. Founded by Claudio Cavallaro in 2013, Soul Fingers grew into a vinyl-driven community where groove matters more than genre. Its philosophy has always been simple: if the groove is right, genres stop mattering. Brothers Ricky and Francesco Cardelli developed Funk Rimini into a project rooted in funk, disco, live performance and electronic production. Anima Adriatica is where these two journeys meet.

The project didn’t begin with the ambition of making an album. It began behind the turntables. As DJs, Claudio Cavallaro and Ricky Cardelli found themselves constantly searching for records capable of connecting distant musical worlds inside their sets; from Afrobeat into disco, from hip hop into Latin, from Brazilian grooves into boogie, from cosmic electronics into deep funk. Sometimes those records existed. More often, they didn’t. So they stopped searching and started writing them. Not records designed to belong to one genre, but records designed to travel between genres. That space between musical worlds became Anima Adriatica.

The music grew through spontaneous jam sessions with Ricky and Francesco Cardelli, drummer Enrico Mao Bocchini and, gradually, a wider circle of musicians, singers and longtime friends, making Anima Adriatica less a traditional band than the beginning of an open collective. Recorded at SynthPosio Studio, founded by Ricky and Francesco Cardelli inside Rimini’s iconic skyscraper, the project also carries a symbolic connection to the building itself, where many Italo Disco classics (including records by Betty Miranda, The Creatures and many others) were recorded decades earlier.

Betty Miranda returns not as a nostalgic guest, but as a bridge between generations. On the title track she performs a spoken-word text written by Claudio Cavallaro, reflecting on the invisible thread connecting the Adriatic dancefloor across time. From Baia degli Angeli to Cocoricò, from the legendary clubs of Riccione to today’s independent communities gathered around projects such as Soul Fingers and Funk Rimini, the places have changed, but the dancefloor continues to tell the same story. Much like Pier Vittorio Tondelli’s Rimini captured the Adriatic through literature, Anima Adriatica imagines its soundtrack.

Brazilian musician Daniel Plentz (Selton) expands that vision on Açúcar and Alegria, bringing another coastline into the story. Across its four tracks, the EP moves naturally between analogue funk, boogie, Brazilian music, underground disco, cosmic textures and the wider Black musical tradition, with All Down The Line paying tribute to the Paradise Garage era.

Released by Bordello A Parigi, the project found its natural home through a shared love of adventurous dance music, records and club culture. More than the title of an EP, Anima Adriatica marks the beginning of an open collective; a meeting point where musicians, DJs, producers and friends continue building bridges between genres, generations and communities.

Because Anima Adriatica doesn’t live inside a genre. It lives between genres. If soul music has always reflected the places where it was born, Anima Adriatica is simply our own Adriatic Soul.

The brilliant My Point of View was Herbie Hancock’s second album for Blue Note, a 1963 session featuring an all-star lineup: Donald Byrd, Hank Mobley, Grachan Moncur III, Grant Green, Chuck Israels, and a young Tony Williams. Each track radiates a deeply engaging musicality, showcasing Hancock’s masterful arranging skills. With standout compositions like King Cobra and A Tribute to Someone, this is a timeless classic—an essential reissue not to be missed.

Originally from Bristol, England, Ben Jacobs, aka Crackazat, is a multi-Instrumentalist and electronic producer. Since his emergence on the international scene, he has quickly become recognised for his unique fusion of Jazz and House music. He now presents his latest EP, ‘The Nervous Chill’, releasing on longstanding House label Nervous's sublabel ‘Nervous Chill’.

Crackazat’s influences range from the underground hip hop of Madlib to the Jazz-funk of Jamiroquai, showcasing downtempo beats and synthfunk. In 2015, he released his debut album ‘Crescendo’ to critical acclaim, as well as forming an alliance with Swedish house label Local Talk and performing supporting sets for Bonobo and Floating Points. Crackazat’s growing popularity has led to remixes by Joey Negro, Moulinex, and Tom Misch.

He now debuts on Nervous Chill with four sophisticated and downbeat tracks. Rooted in jazz, Crackazat’s signature keyboard solos, gilded violin chords, and glistening textures blend swinging grooves with silky melodies. Wind instruments anchor the tracks without limiting versatility, paired with dynamic percussion and featherweight pads. ‘The Nervous Chill’ sees Crackazat crafting a joyous, soulful EP that works both on and off the dancefloor.

»Pipe Dreams II & III« presents two new, side-long organ works by Mary Jane Leach, extending the sonic investigations of her 1989 landmark »Pipe Dreams«. Recorded in Ghent and Cologne, the two side-long pieces use shifting stops, resonance and beating tones to turn the pipe organ into a vivid, physical field of sound.

When »Pipe Dreams« was issued on vinyl for the first time by Blume in 2017, it was effectively the first time many of us encountered Mary Jane Leach’s music, finally placing her work in its proper historical context amid the searching Downtown milieu of Julius Eastman, Arthur Russell, Arnold Dreyblatt, Ellen Fullman, Philip Corner, Daniel Goode, and Peter Zummo. Leach collaborated with most of these artists at one point or another, either in Downtown Ensemble or as a guest on their records.

Now »Pipe Dreams II« and »Pipe Dreams III« arrive, recorded in 2023 and 2024 at Miry Concertzaal in Ghent, Belgium, and Kunst-Station Sankt Peter in Cologne, respectively.

»When I was a young child, my family lived next door to a church, where my mother was the organist. I spent many hours lying on the floor of the sanctuary listening to the music, letting the sound of the organ envelop me. I also liked to play the piano loudly with the pedal down, producing clouds of sound, much to my family’s annoyance. These two organ pieces explore some of my earliest musical interests and aesthetics.

In 1989, I lived in a tower attached to St Peter’s Church in Cologne, where I had access to its organ. It had two sets of pipes, front and back, which could create antiphonal effects. I spent countless hours exploring the possibilities of all the permutations of notes, space, and the resulting sound phenomena. I wrote »Pipe Dreams« for that organ. Fast forward to 2023, when I was asked to create a piece for organ for a concert at the Miry Concertzaal in Ghent, Belgium: »Pipe Dreams II«. I had a few days to familiarise myself with the organ, its available stops, and the layout of the console. I choreographed stop changes for a volunteer, as I couldn’t reach them myself. Some amazing sounds began to happen, and at one point the sound was so visceral that I felt as though I were taming a wild beast.

»Pipe Dreams III« was performed in 2024 on the organ that I had spent so much time playing in 1989–90. One big difference, though, was that the console was totally new and computerised. Having access to the organ for only a few hours before the concert, I decided that I did not have enough time to feel comfortable with the console and should not attempt to recreate the piece I had written in 1989. I would instead use the same sequence of stops and perform an improvised piece. I loved the sounds that were being created, and I was having so much fun that at one point I even started to laugh quietly. I began to visualise the beating notes as if they were atoms, opening them up to expose their innards, with the beating, higher-pitched notes — neutrons and protons — shimmering at the top, and the lower notes — the electrons — throbbing away at the bottom. I was playing notes not so much for their pitch value, but for how they affected the notes and sound phenomena already being played. Instead of a time signature, I timed the entries by listening to the beating patterns, waiting for the right moment to enter. And no, I wasn’t hallucinating.«

Mary Jane Leach, 2026

Courant Zéro is the new moniker of Montréal multi-media installation artist and Kohlenstoff label co-founder Maxime Corbeil-Perron, signalling his return to purely recording-based electronic music production following several years focused on award-winning experimental film and audio-visual works. Solari channels his cinematic sensibility and decade-long exploration of sound art and electroacoustic counterpoint into deep cuts of maximalist ambient electronica. Drawing on his early background as a pianist and jazz drummer, Corbeil-Perron weaves a fabric of melodic and rhythmic vectors with his unique timbral palette, intersecting modern composition, IDM, ambient, glitch, and noise on a debut album brimming with sonic detail and emotive resonance. A fixture of Montréal's sound art community as both creator and curator since the early 2010s, Corbeil-Perron's work has ranged from "hypnotic A/V onslaught" (FACT Magazine) to the "richly nuanced acousmatic journey" of his 2018 EP Polychrome (Bandcamp Best Contemporary Classical Of The Month), with earlier electronic and techno-adjacent projects like Political Ritual, Dresden, and Le poisson d'argent garnering accolades from avant-music outlets A Closer Listen, Silence and Sound, and Musicworks, among others. Courant Zéro mobilizes this cumulative wealth of explorative sonic experience in the service of distinctive compositional architectures and electronic music pathways that fans of Floating Points, Jan Jelinek, Squarepusher, Tim Hecker, and Oneohtrix Point Never should find compelling. Title track "Solari" opens the album with a cavernous ambient glitch-drone soundscape that envelops ever-shifting timbres of modular arpeggiation, serving as introduction to the clarion call of "En deçà du réel", an homage to video artist Manon Labrecque, where layers of interweaving melodic counterpoint played on Buchla and other synths slowly build to widescreen immersive intensities; "I have this vision of Labreque vibrating eternally between two frames of magnetic VHS tape_ the slow pace of the piece also inspired by Tarkovsky's approach to scenography" says Corbeil-Perron. "Strange Aorta" is ectoplasmic ambient with wistful melody lines transmuting along a central filament, awash in shifting waves of low-end and ricocheting tonal glitch, the title a reference to "the thumping rhythm beating around the main melody_and the heavy remnants of grief related to my father's passing and a brutal confrontation with my own mortality a few years back." Tracks like "La peau des dents" and "Eroding Us" are more firmly rooted in electroacoustic and aleatory systems music, where colliding loops are shaped into unstable flows of deconstructed slippage and reconvergence. Those two pieces bookend the album's pivotal center: the gorgeous piano digitalia of "Horizon n'arrête" and the skittering electronica of 9-minute opus "Unyeldd", its loping broken beat and cascading melodic glitter like a cluster of wind-up music boxes in a dappled forest _ and for Corbeil- Perron also partly inspired by now fellow Constellation labelmates Do Make Say Think: "I spent a lot of time rediscovering their records after seeing them last September 2024 which definitely influenced this piece." Courant Zéro's debut is a vibrant sonic rebus at the junction of electronic, electroacoustic, noise and ambient music that resists easy categorisation. Solari strikes a compelling balance of unsettled disorientation and hospitable warmth, teeming with real feeling throughout. The album's cover art painting Cryptography I by Yen-Chao Lin represents this prevailing sensibility, its mazelike circuitry distinctly carved and crisply rendered, while filigreed with handmade detail and artisanal patina. Thanks for listening.

Courant Zéro is the new moniker of Montréal multi-media installation artist and Kohlenstoff label co-founder Maxime Corbeil-Perron, signalling his return to purely recording-based electronic music production following several years focused on award-winning experimental film and audio-visual works. Solari channels his cinematic sensibility and decade-long exploration of sound art and electroacoustic counterpoint into deep cuts of maximalist ambient electronica. Drawing on his early background as a pianist and jazz drummer, Corbeil-Perron weaves a fabric of melodic and rhythmic vectors with his unique timbral palette, intersecting modern composition, IDM, ambient, glitch, and noise on a debut album brimming with sonic detail and emotive resonance. A fixture of Montréal’s sound art community as both creator and curator since the early 2010s, Corbeil-Perron’s work has ranged from “hypnotic A/V onslaught” (FACT Magazine) to the “richly nuanced acousmatic journey” of his 2018 EP Polychrome (Bandcamp Best Contemporary Classical Of The Month), with earlier electronic and techno-adjacent projects like Political Ritual, Dresden, and Le poisson d’argent garnering accolades from avant-music outlets A Closer Listen, Silence and Sound, and Musicworks, among others. Courant Zéro mobilizes this cumulative wealth of explorative sonic experience in the service of distinctive compositional architectures and electronic music pathways that fans of Floating Points, Jan Jelinek, Squarepusher, Tim Hecker, and Oneohtrix Point Never should find compelling.


Courant Zéro’s debut is a vibrant sonic rebus at the junction of electronic, electroacoustic, noise and ambient music that resists easy categorisation. Solari strikes a compelling balance of unsettled disorientation and hospitable warmth, teeming with real feeling throughout. The album’s cover art painting Cryptography I by Yen-Chao Lin represents this prevailing sensibility, its mazelike circuitry distinctly carved and crisply rendered, while filigreed with handmade detail and artisanal patina. Thanks for listening.

Pressure is the medium of wind players. Wind instruments all sound thanks to pressure differentials, whether that’s the rush of wind over a lip plate or a steady, buzzing exhalation through pursed lips. Ka Baird and Chris Ryan Williams (HxH) are wind players well- schooled in the power of using pressure and movement to amplify the mystery of an invisible force animating a metal tube. They augment their instruments, flute and trumpet respectively, with electronics, sometimes obscuring the acoustic sound source, sometimes making it hyperreal. Flutters of lip and tongue slither over the listener’s ear, and sustained tones become a dense fog, pushing on other kinds of visceral, emotional pressure points.

On Enthalpy, Baird and Williams’ first album as a duo, the energy they conjure feels barely contained, the pressure built up to a breaking point before spilling out in multiple directions at various speeds. They borrow the title from thermodynamics, referring to the total energy of a system based on its pressure and volume. The music flies out in bursts; it seeps and oozes, flows with intention. It is an incredibly rhythmic work without any hint of meter, full of sounds that punctuate with the thud of a dart hitting a bullseye. Williams’ capability to conjure swirling atmospherics, as well as his remarkable ability to pull fragments of melody from the haze, fit puzzle-like into Baird’s exclamations and the eruption of electronics that often dovetail them. The duo draws on tones from nearly the entire range of human hearing, from nimble but bulbous throbs of sub-bass to pinprick flickers of ultra-high end.

The sessions that produced Enthalpy were completely improvised, showcasing a degree of mind-meld that belies each participant’s thrill at approaching the unknown. This isn’t a casual conversation, but an omnidirectional tangle that ties and reties itself into new knots as the album progresses. Williams and Baird have both become ubiquitous presences throughout the New York City experimental music communities, collaborating with innumerable others and learning how their unique approaches work in tandem with similarly expansive thinkers and players. Even in the album’s most spacious moments, there’s a tension between the feeling of being unmoored and yet completely locked in, like the abyss is just one more river to cross. They ford it together before moving on to the next idea in lock step.

For the listener, Enthalpy is often felt in the body as much as it reverberates within the ears. We’re tossed from side to side, made to shoulder the impact of detonating electronics, absorbing these sounds with the feet, gut, and crown. Baird reaches into the back of their throat for guttural growls, and we can almost feel the scratch. As we tread the border of the synthesthetic, it's a reminder of the physical nature of sound, that the space between our ears and the speakers is its own enthalpic system of energy conduction. Move with it, let it move you, and see how it feels.

A clerestory - a bright or "clear" level or "story" - is an upper section of wall, most often in a church punctuated by windows. It is a powerful image for grasping this luminous new music from Jules Reidy. Light casts shadows, of course, and logics of shadowing, mirroring, and distorted reflection - of key importance for Reidy"s work as a whole - inform the sumptuous surfaces of Clerestory. "Shadow Symmetric" is a string quartet commissioned and performed by the JACK Quartet as part of their JACK Studio program. The piece makes simultaneous use of two pitch sets, beginning from the same starting point but expanded using different scaling to produce what Reidy describes as "two offset spectral layers." "Clerestory Windows" offers up a distorted mirror image of the string quartet, arranged as a series of episodes that each remake the material in their own way. It begins with an arrangement of the string quartet material for MIDI strings and voices, repositioning its rigorous harmonic exploration somewhere between the Lovely Music Ltd universe and a 90s RPG soundtrack. This episode derives from Reidy"s installation Inside, Crystals and Circuitry, held in Stockholm in 2025. The piece moves into a lyrical 12-string acoustic guitar air performed at the installation opening, before the strings from the first side reappear. From this emerge flickering arpeggios, achieved by arranging the string quartet material for the RMI, an early digital synthesizer. Clerestory is a meditation on fundamental dynamics of human experience: orientation and disorientation, the hazy borders the hazy borders between the material and the spiritual, and the instability of identity.

Founded in Germany in 2019, CONSVMER. have spent the last few years carving out a space that’s entirely their own: progressive metal, beatdown, and metalcore delivered entirely in German, with an unflinching focus on subjects most people would rather look past. Their 2024 record Seelenfrieden turned heads inside and outside the German metal scene, with coverage from outlets including Nik Nocturnal and a collaboration with Paleface Swiss that confirmed the band were operating at a level far beyond their years. Live, they have earned their place on stages at Summer Breeze, Core Fest and Bembel X Core Festival. Now, with new vocalist Jacques Gronert and a vision sharpened to a point, CONSVMER. return with Abgrund.
Where Seelenfrieden refined the template, Abgrund dismantles it. Across eleven tracks the band push further into territory that feels genuinely unique and uncompromising: the title track opens the record on collective collapse and a society steering towards the edge with no intention of stopping, while songs like "Gier" tear into systemic greed and exploitation with brutal clarity, "Willenlos" descends into dissociation and the erasure of identity, and "Sucht" confronts addiction and self-destruction with a rawness that is hard to shake. Closer "Gottverlassen" leaves the listener exactly where the title suggests. The collaboration with brutal deathcore veterans Acranius on "Sucht" hits like a freight train, their English-language verses locking into CONSVMER.'s German delivery to devastating effect. Fellow German hardcore outfit DOGBITE also appear, adding another dimension to a record that never loses focus.

Montréal-based sound artist Steve Bates expands his strategies and stylistic influences on An Infinite Antenna, his second solo album for Constellation, giving freer reign to melodic components and textural dynamics: leftfield synth work, deconstructed drum machine, pointillist electric guitar, and radiostatic blur are all part of the new brew swirling around his bruitist signal-bending and field-recording sensibility. Arguably a more ambient album than his acclaimed 2022 Constellation debut, An Infinite Antenna is at the same time more densely packed with ideas, dynamics, evocations and earworms. Coming out of the anarcho-punk scene of the Canadian Prairies in the 1990s, Bates founded Winnipeg’s experimental sound festival Send + Receive in 1998 before moving to Montréal to become Sound Coordinator at Hexagram (Concordia University), delving further into sonic research and theory, tape-based composition, and installation work. Alongside the curatorial arc of his own sound art label The Dim Coast, Bates released several solo and collaborative albums on ORAL_records leading up to All The Things That Happen, the 2022 Constellation debut praised by Boomkat for its “grittily iridescent ambient billow rendering maximalist panoramas” and by Backseat Mafia as “extraordinary soundscapes of unstable, destructive cacophony and tender calm, echoes of the threat of power.” Where that album was noisier and single-minded, made with the self-imposed limit of a Casio SK-1, Bates plays more widely with instrumentation and atmospheres on An Infinite Antenna, also drawing on his post-hardcore roots in seeking a sort of track-by-track concision nonetheless driven by the album’s coherence as a seamless work. “I was trying to set durations I associate with punk rather than the longer, sprawling music coming from more ambient styles (that I very much love), and while I wasn’t able to quite pare it down to Minutemen durations, I had that reduction to essential elements as a sort of whisper over my shoulder.” Incorporating source recordings made throughout 2023-2025, including at artist residencies and site-specific sound installation visits in Bosnia and Herzegovina (the album’s cover photo was taken in Sarajevo), Austria, Greece, and Saskatchewan, An Infinite Antenna combines Bates’ “idea of slowly scanning a radio dial” with a soundworld of recurring timbral and textural touchstones that forge an integrated whole.

The album’s 12 tracks work effectively as stand-alone pieces, replete with shifting undercurrents, buried melody, and stuttering kinetics, and as a sequential flow where the brief interstitial silences between them are like short pauses to flip the next page in a sketchbook of perspectival studies of a wide but singular tableau. The glistening atonal synth expressionism of opener “Pink pink pink pink…pink pink” drifts gently toward submerged ambience, darkened by the noised rumble and static interference of “Green as a ghost”, which introduces broken beats and piano chords in its denouement. Tracks like “Battles and sieges and street trees” and “Easier sad than done” work the foundations of low-end field-recording resonance, but dappled with lovely melodic droplets of treated guitar and synth. “Waste, songs of the world” and “Disaster loans” are among the album’s most explicit stylistic references to posthardcore, with distorted ambient bass and gently abrasive drum sampling. Closing track “Swamps and factories”, the album’s longest piece, is perhaps most reminiscent of Bates’ previous record with its sustained dissonant glimmer-drone, but the journey An Infinite Antenna traces to get there is Bates at his most dynamic, diverse, distinctive, and engaging. Thanks for listening.

Montréal-based sound artist Steve Bates expands his strategies and stylistic influences on An Infinite Antenna, his second solo album for Constellation, giving freer reign to melodic components and textural dynamics: leftfield synth work, deconstructed drum machine, pointillist electric guitar, and radiostatic blur are all part of the new brew swirling around his bruitist signal-bending and field-recording sensibility. Arguably a more ambient album than his acclaimed 2022 Constellation debut, An Infinite Antenna is at the same time more densely packed with ideas, dynamics, evocations and earworms. Coming out of the anarcho-punk scene of the Canadian Prairies in the 1990s, Bates founded Winnipeg's experimental sound festival Send + Receive in 1998 before moving to Montréal to become Sound Coordinator at Hexagram (Concordia University), delving further into sonic research and theory, tape-based composition, and installation work. Alongside the curatorial arc of his own sound art label The Dim Coast, Bates released several solo and collaborative albums on ORAL_records leading up to All The Things That Happen, the 2022 Constellation debut praised by Boomkat for its "grittily iridescent ambient billow rendering maximalist panoramas" and by Backseat Mafia as "extraordinary soundscapes of unstable, destructive cacophony and tender calm, echoes of the threat of power." Where that album was noisier and single-minded, made with the self-imposed limit of a Casio SK-1, Bates plays more widely with instrumentation and atmospheres on An Infinite Antenna, also drawing on his post-hardcore roots in seeking a sort of track-by-track concision nonetheless driven by the album's coherence as a seamless work. "I was trying to set durations I associate with punk rather than the longer, sprawling music coming from more ambient styles (that I very much love), and while I wasn't able to quite pare it down to Minutemen durations, I had that reduction to essential elements as a sort of whisper over my shoulder." Incorporating source recordings made throughout 2023-2025, including at artist residencies and site-specific sound installation visits in Bosnia and Herzegovina (the album's cover photo was taken in Sarajevo), Austria, Greece, and Saskatchewan, An Infinite Antenna combines Bates' "idea of slowly scanning a radio dial" with a soundworld of recurring timbral and textural touchstones that forge an integrated whole. The album's 12 tracks work effectively as stand-alone pieces, replete with shifting undercurrents, buried melody, and stuttering kinetics, and as a sequential flow where the brief interstitial silences between them are like short pauses to flip the next page in a sketchbook of perspectival studies of a wide but singular tableau. The glistening atonal synth expressionism of opener 'Pink pink pink pink_pink pink' drifts gently toward submerged ambience, darkened by the noised rumble and static interference of 'Green as a ghost', which introduces broken beats and piano chords in its denouement. Tracks like 'Battles and sieges and street trees' and 'Easier sad than done' work the foundations of low-end field-recording resonance, but dappled with lovely melodic droplets of treated guitar and synth. 'Waste, songs of the world' and 'Disaster loans' are among the album's most explicit stylistic references to posthardcore, with distorted ambient bass and gently abrasive drum sampling. Closing track 'Swamps and factories,' the album's longest piece, is perhaps most reminiscent of Bates' previous record with its sustained dissonant glimmer-drone, but the journey An Infinite Antenna traces to get there is Bates at his most dynamic, diverse, distinctive, and engaging. Thanks for listening

“Music for me, is rarely complete,” says GODFLESH mastermind Justin Broadrick, “but it has to reach a point where enough is enough. Creatively, there has to be self-discipline. One has to end it.” Broadrick is primarily referring to the nebulous process of writing and arranging songs into their various potential shapes, but he could just as easily be describing GODFLESH’s imminent conclusion. Just three years after the hypnotic crunch of Purge, 25 years after an uncertain hiatus that nearly scuttled the band, and 38 years since GODFLESH’s inception, Broadrick and bassist-at-arms Ben Green set out to mercilessly crush this cold world with their tenth and penultimate album, this year’s Decay. “Decay was born from the same sessions as Purge,” Broadrick declares of the new record’s six tracks. “It was one huge pool of songs. I picked what I felt was appropriate for what I wanted to achieve with Purge, with the intention of releasing the songs that didn't fit as a new album within a year of Purge being released. Unfortunately, two years passed whilst considering external labels, so that I didn't have to self-release GODFLESH anymore, but it took an awful lot of time to establish a comfortable home for me. The recordings were done, but as usual for me, I did change a lot of stuff once I came back to it.” Now, GODFLESH is ready to unleash an even bolder, bleaker series of sounds in Decay. These songs arrive shortly after Broadrick released a public statement about major abdominal surgery he underwent earlier this year.

"The grass is greener_ elsewhere_" Brain Damage told us with their debut album, released in 2002. Yet here, they've reached full maturity. Rarely has a "made in France" dub album strayed so far from the Jamaican model while still harboring, in every detail, so many references and tributes to the inventors of the style (King Tubby / Lee Perry), as well as to many of the key figures in its evolution (Tikiman / Rhythm & Sound, Dub Syndicate, etc.). The recording studio, 7/11 Laboratory, is used here as a true musical instrument. The optimal use of three-dimensional stereo effects will immerse the listener in soundscapes ranging from classic space echoes and Mont Blanc tunnel-style reverberations to crackles, electronic interference, exogenous samples, and other parasitic noises coming straight from Babylon. For this album, continuing in the vein of his previous collaborations with the international dub scene (Zion Train, Alpha & Omega, Disciples, Spectre, Lab°_), Brain Damage traveled to London to record two tracks at Conscious Sounds Studio with Jamaican-born singer Tena Stelin. With the melancholic "Spirit World," one is reminded of the fruitful collaborations between Massive Attack and Horace Andy, while on "Genetic Weapon," the tone becomes more overtly assertive. Two vocal tracks, then, woven into these ten compositions, where the emotional moods and atmospheres will shift with each listen. "Always Greener (On the Other Side)" emerges as the manifesto of music conceived as cinema for the ear...

Tucked in the heart of Koreatown, Los Angeles, lies The Libra Hotel—the titular architecture of Nick Malkin's new album and site of his musical and psychogeographic exploration. Unlike most musical "site-specific" studies, Malkin remains wholly ambivalent to the documentarian approach, instead sharpening an auteur-like focus on the site as a conceptual and highly expressive backdrop. The Libra is musically explored as a space that houses a noir fragmentation of identity—the exhausted trope of a complicated protagonist walking through rain-soaked street corners and fumy neon lights—where an inner monologue is rendered in both miniature and at a cosmic scale. Casting aside stifling tropes around field recording, ambient, and improvised music, Malkin's work finds its own unique fidelity and emotional core through the assembly and reassembly of memory. Nearly every sound on the album—from frayed saxophones, lambent pianos, and dissected jazz drum kits—are multiplied, shattered, and reconstituted into shapes that adorn The Libra in a motion-blurred fog. The narrative of the Hotel suddenly appears as if out of the mist, with intersecting characters interacting within its walls by happenstance. Adminst the languid set pieces, wraith-like sonic grains gravitate around wide subbass beams that give structural form to The Libra, a narrative tension like when a scene is shot from hundreds of different perspectives: an image both luminous and veiled.

Much like Frank Sinatra's own spatial residency immortalized on "Live at The Sands," "At The Libra Hotel" showcases an exuberant view of entertainment, hospitality, and a form of masculinity, one that can quickly detourn into darkness. Knowing this, Malkin extracts a melancholic core out of The Libra locale. The flickering shadows of American decadence are shown in their ephemeral honesty, lines that trace how even in everyday life virtue is tested, sanity is tested, even reality is tested within the confines of desire, within the night. The album is draped in fleeting textures, carefully arranged with a trance-like microtonality, the faint inflections and articulations of a jazz band cascading into dissipated stillness. Voicemails about changed locations and covert eavesdropping on guests' whispered conversations provide an atmosphere of missed connection and voyeurism—a purloined letter of desire receding into a vanishing point. Like the music itself, The Hotel, a chapel perilous at the intersection of desolation row, the center of it all, yet simultaneously at the edge of town, becomes a structure between libidinous virtuality and actuality—our inevitable half-light.

Ultimately, the pensive atmosphere of "At The Libra Hotel," powerfully asserts a plea for the kinds of intimacy only possible in transient spaces. Here, memory cascades into a force that feels like something supernatural, perhaps even religious, yet always subject to the infidelity of our imagination. Here, the album opens into its primary psychodrama, the transient nature of subjectivity itself and how this becomes fractured in the tumult between our commitments and desires. Within this nocturnal space, to quote Louise Bourgeois, "you pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture."

A long-lost Japanese acid folk gem, Niningashi’s 1974 private press debut Heavy Way shimmers with originality, deft song writing and a dream-like groove.

Although he was training as a pharmacist, Kazuhisa Okubo was much more interested in prescribing musical medicine.
A coming-of-age album, Heavy Way captured a turning point in Okubo’s life, and Japanese society more widely as a nostalgia for the pastoral calm of the traditional life, met the cosmopolitan thrill of coffee, sex and cigarettes in the big city.
Intoxicated by Tokyo, driven by a passion for music and surrounded by a thriving acid folk scene, the young student filtered his experiences through a psychedelic cocktail of soulful influences from the US and Japan.
Niningashi was his first band, and Heavy Way was their only album. It was honest and raw, deep and strangely funky, in an off-beat kind of way. Across nine tracks, Okubo and the 6-piece band put their own spin on the new folk sound of Japan, combining witty lyrics with electric guitar-driven solos and crisp, understated grooves.

Melancholy and profound, opening track ‘Ameagari’ feels like a synthesis of Harvest-era Neil Young and Haruomi Hosono’s Happy End. Then there’s the whimsical washboard country sound of ‘Semai Boku No Heyade’; the moody, low-lit charm of ‘Restaurant’; and ‘Hitoribotchi’, a sensitive portrayal of childhood, steeped in memories of rainfall that will resonate with fans of Woo and Mac Demarco.
While Okubo would go on to taste success with psychedelic folk bands Neko and Kaze, the latter of which scored three #1 albums, little is known about his mysterious debut with Niningashi.
Self-released by Okubo in 1974, and featuring album artwork by his brother, it has slowly generated a cult following online, intrigued by its soft and enchanting sound. So few records were ultimately pressed that those remaining have fetched up to £1,500 online.

Featured on Time Capsule’s era-spanning collection Nippon Acid Folk, Niningashi’s Heavy Way is a deep-cut grail of a vibrant time in Japan’s musical history, where even the pharmacists were making jams.

Remastered limited edition double vinyl with double-sided screenprinted poster-cover (sleeve folds out to be one huge poster). A real collectors item!

When Off Off came out around June 1984, one couldn’t speak of an independent music scene in Portugal. Warm Records’ vague existence didn’t have any impact and Dansa do Som’s inaugural release appeared only in December. 10 years after the revolution, after two IMF interventions, a lot of political instability (not to say turmoil, in the first couple of years) and the natural excesses of a sudden burst of freedom, the Portuguese consumer had more choices but a generally poor standard of living. There was no entrepreneurial culture and serious second thoughts about investing private money in risky ventures.

After many complaints about the whole music scene (institutions, critics and record label executives, popular and classical music alike), something that would continue well beyond the end of the decade, Telectu decided to finance, record, produce, release and sell an album with complete independence from outside structures. Their karmic reward was profit. According to Vítor Rua, Off Off was the only album fully payed by the duo and the only one that really payed off. Not an easy accomplishment for a double LP housed in a large (also double-sided) screenprint with complicated cuts and folds. The artwork was conceived by António Palolo, a friend and multidisciplinary artist. It was based on a collage of heavily saturated and xeroxed polaroids framed in shocking pink and green. Palolo was considered the third member of Telectu, regularly producing slides, video and other visual support for their shows. The inspiration for the type of cover came from GRM’s Gramme series.

Off Off is divided in four distinct sides, each one corresponding to a “theme” or “function” related to Telectu’s manifold artistic interests and interactions. The titles are also gateways to influences and a small portion of Portuguese cultural life:

- Side 1 / “Diagonale” is dedicated to Egídio Álvaro, art critic and gallery director (he opened Diagonale in Paris). Performance art was arguably his main artistic concern over the years, so the music on this side is suggested for use by one or more performers in live or playback situations. The three tracks segue into each other, linked by a synth arpeggio much in the same way as Telectu’s previous “Belzebu” álbum (1983);

- Side 2 / “Anarké” is dedicated to the composer Filipe Pires, one of Jorge Lima Barreto’s recurring invocations when asked about worthwhile contemporary music in Portugal. It is subtitled “concert music”, proposing «a new form of listening». Three tracks also, and these are separated by “clap interludes”, which basically consisted in the following: JLB and VR each had a pair of headphones on, and they clapped their hands according to the rhythm of the music each one was listening. Both musicians were interacting with a different Steve Reich piece: Vítor with “Music for Mallet Instruments”, Jorge with “Six Pianos”. The result is disjointed clapping, an awkwardly deliberate celebration of their own music. Telectu applauded themselves.

- Side 3 / “Cornucópia” is subtitled “music for theatre” and dedicated to Luís Miguel Cintra and Luís Lima Barreto (JLB’s brother), both connected to the Cornucópia theatre company. The side consists of several short pieces previously used as interludes in the Cornucópia staging of “Mariana Espera Casamento” (1983). Field recordings, mood pieces, ambience and a numeric poem (“Soneto Soma 14x”, by E.M. de Melo e Castro) read by João Perry, a quite well-known stage actor. His voice is treated with a flanger effect;

- Side 4 / “Palolo” is “video music”. It’s a one-take mix recorded from cassette sources (Telectu studio experiences) and done live while watching António Palolo’s Om film (1978) projected on the living room wall. It’s a deep, immersive, quasi-mystical 20-minute piece perfectly suiting the meditative, abstract, fluid images created by Palolo by mixing paint and water inside a bathtub. One imagines the Cosmos, hardly suspecting the technique. The film is 90 minutes long, so the music on the LP is of course edited.

The six titles on sides 1 and 2 evoke demons, all of them with conflicting symbolism, since it varies from culture to culture, religion to religion. No explanation is given and Vítor Rua has no idea where this imagery comes from. During virtually the whole stretch of the 1980s, Jorge was the one in charge of titles and concepts, and Vítor didn’t bother too much even reading the liner notes :) In any case, when you synchronize the listening experience with the imagery, a powerful impression emerges, a feeling of being in the presence of these entities while placing yourself inside the sonic narrative.

Off Off is undoubtedly a seminal album in the history of electronic music, as much Heldon as Fripp & Eno, jazz and American minimalism, cosmic out-thereness, mantric miniatures. Telectu at the height of their powers, still very early on, delivering an album-manifesto advocating intermedia art and the fierce independence of Portuguese musicians «from the scum of capitalist music industry monopolies. It’s a path to follow, albeit one that requires enduring hardships and retaliation from music industry gangsters.» Despite a few journalists deemed «capable of being free», the media are «enslaved by the dominant and fascist imbecility of the speculators of light music.» Off Off is addressed to those journalists «and to an audience angry at the cultural misery imposed upon us ..., certain that this music will open new horizons of musical pleasure in the conception of Portuguese avant-garde music, and in the open consciousness of us all. OFF OFF repeats Freedom.»

Those two words are a direct lift from Alberto Arbasino’s 1968 book Off Off, the basis of which is a critical analysis of Theodor Adorno’s and Dwight MacDonald’s ideas concerning the stratification of culture in different levels (high, mid and low) and the pervasiveness of mass culture in the form of a culture industry. In very simplistic terms, and that is precisely the point that inspired Jorge, Arbasino argued that it was possible and desirable to effect a revolution from below, cultivating alternative circuits completely cut-off from what he termed the in-in reality. Telectu’s record was a deliberate demonstration that it could be done, displaying Freedom in the face of all the gatekeepers and other human obstacles.

Geoff Kirkwood (Man Power)

I’dgained some notoriety as a music producer and DJ but I hit a horrible case of writers block around 2018.

The problem I was finding was that I was trying to shoe horn every smart arsed clever dick musical reference I had into the music I was making, but the function of dance music is to make people dance, not to show people who broad your musical references are, so I was making pretty shitty music that landed in the middle and didn’t achieve either aim.

To tackle this I ended up committing to just trying to make the most expressive and wanky experimental stuff I could. I was immersed in club culture at the time so the whole enterprise started as a joke, hence the name “Bed Wetter”. However when I fully submitted to just naked exploration the really unexpected thing that happened was that I found myself unavoidably having to deal with a lot of my own bullshit. That bullshit turned into the “Billy Mill is Dead” album, which was essentially the sound of me excavating my own life and looking at how I felt about where I was from, where I was headed, my family, my history, my region and all of the things i have conflicting feelings about.

It was partially catharsis and also a bit of deprogramming around being able to call myself an artist after being raised to believe that wasn’t an option for me.

I self released Billy Mill is Dead in the months before the pandemic and it found it’s fair share of love in the places I hoped would connect with it, and just the right amount of being ignored by people who I’m pleased didn’t feel it. This all lead to me being emboldened enough to apply for an artist in residence position at a big regional opera house months later in the middle of lockdown.

My feeling was that if my DJ career was potentially over for the remainder of my lifetime then there was no harm in exploring this alternative method of expression to see where it could take me.

I submitted a ridiculously ambitious plan for what I would like to do as a project, and to my absolute shock I was selected for the position.

I was 40 years old and from a scarcity background so I had a potentially unique response to that kind of validation for the first time and what followed next was a process of me just coming back with bigger and more ridiculous ideas just to find out at whatstage they’d tell me to stop.

The thing is, nobody did. I got as far as suggesting writing a full symphony to be performed by an orchestra before my own nerve gave out and I decided that was probably as far as I should push things.

The problem with people giving you permission to do things is that you then need to go out and figure out how to do those things.

The biggest issue for me, beyond raising the money to pay for everything, was how does a person actually write a symphony?

I was introduced to Fiona Brice, a multi instrumentalist and orchestral arranger. She’s also a recording artist who releases on Bella Union. On top of that she’s a violinist who used to be part of the band Placebo and who used to appear regularly playing for other bands on things like Top of the Pops.

Not only was Fiona uniquely placed to not look down on the strange provenance of someone from an Acid House background wanting to write a symphony, but more to the point we really hit it off from day one.

Fiona coached me in the essentials of writing for an Orchestra, and then I went off and wrote the 8 movements.

I’d love to say I laboured for years over this bit, but it took about 2 weeks in total. I’d also love to say what I wrote was a complete symphony, but the version of this which is solely me feels like looking at something without your glasses on. The shape,feel and borders were all there, but the definition was absent. Fiona taught me the broad language of a symphony, but without her it would have lacked all intonation, nuance and detail. Where I had shaped ideas with a hammer, she brought out my meaning with precision using a scalpel.

I think the prodigiously quick turnaround for the music is as much proof of how conceptually and musically aligned Fiona and I are. I know we’re both incredibly proud of what we’ve created.

It took nearly 2 more years to stage the debut performance in what was potentially the most traumatic period of my life which saw me embroiled in an international crisis with my own family and the death of my father, all with the backdrop of COVID.

The work itself is inspired by the working class experience, but it’s also a comment on how we get to decide what we are and how we’re defined, and we get to choose what we do to prove these things.

The original recording was contractually impossible to ever share again, so we re-recorded it in a working men’s club with jobbing (albeit world class) players. In many ways it’s a record that feels like it shouldn’t exist, which is why we’re all so happy that it does.

Spiral code is the second album released on An’archives by the Japanese trio archeus, after 2023’s Kusōzu: Nine Death Stages, and their seventh release altogether. It’s also the most staggering evidence yet of the single-minded pursuit of group-sound explored by Keiko Higuchi (voice, drums, percussion, trombone), Shizuo Uchida (4 strings), and TOMO (hurdy gurdy). For two tracks, “awakening, beyond recurrence” and “where points and lines intersect”, they’re joined by Kiyotaka Moriuchi, an improviser who’s played with the likes of Shoko Numao and Ensemble Shippolly, on percussion and darbuka (a goblet-shaped drum played widely across South East Asia).

Always able to scour magic from both their relationships with their instruments, and their non-idiomatic interplay, on spiral code they’ve widened their net further; the results oscillate from humid and claustrophobic blocks of noise to rivulets of tone coursing across post-volcanic landscapes, and on into simple gestures suspended in arctic space. Spiral code was recorded in a single day, on March 20 th 2025, at a studio in Koenji, Tokyo, the morning session with the original trio, and afternoon and evening session with Moriuchi – the first time archeus have played with a guest musician.

When asked about the music archeus makes together, TOMO is quick to isolate the singular characteristics of their collaboration: “we are trying to explore some new, unknown musical vocabulary every time we play. And what we are trying to achieve from every session is something unique, an interesting chemistry or, I should say, alchemical reaction among the three of us.” You can certainly hear that alchemy in the dynamic arc of their performances, the way they seem to be able to switch on a dime and push the music into unexpected terrain, all while sounding intimately archeus. “We have been playing for many years,” TOMO continues, “so I think that among three of us, we can telepathically sense, feel and understand what each of us is trying to express while we are playing.” It’s telling that guest musician Moriuchi fits so effortlessly into the archeus soundworld, able to hitch a ride on the intimate telepathy of Higuchi, Shizuo and TOMO; “I think he gave us some fresh air to our music,” the latter smiles. But that telepathy extends, even, to the name of the album itself, with all members pointing toward spiral imagery when naming the title track, whether TOMO’s evocation of Kundalini serpent imagery and Caduceus, to the spiral shape of DNA, what TOMO calls “the code of life.” It’s certainly deeply entwined music: spiral code is a helix of sound, a cylindrical coiling of possibility.

Clear Vinyl


Her sound remains vast and yearning, with gut-punch drums pushing through explosions of colored powder; her voice is a chrome-plated sigh, and her agile melodies soar effortlessly. - Pitchfork *BEST NEW MUSIC*
she achieves some serious cinematic grandeur. - Stereogum
Simply too sublimely crafted to ignore. - Consequence of Sound
A catchy ethereal piece of pop - Brooklyn Vegan
Rose's layered, reverb-laden vocals hit like waves of sunlight, warming her lines almost to the point of wordlessness. - Paste Magazine


"Hila. A record about loss. What persists beyond the range of ordinary perception? The place mourning keeps returning to - not quite transcendence, not quite doubt. The edge of what we can see."
Frankie Rose has spent fifteen years building one of the most quietly distinctive bodies of work in American independent music. Bursting out of the shackles of her legacy on 2024's Love As Projection, 2026's Hila builds on the muscular, dance-ready songwriting and transcendent melodies to result on Rose's most exploratory and affecting record of her career. Imbued with yearning melodies and brooding post-punk dynamics, Hila is Frankie Rose at her most impressionistic and expansive.

Self-produced at her home studio featuring collaborations with drummer Justin Welch (Elastica/Lush), Hila was recorded following extensive touring with The Jesus & Mary Chain and Swervedriver. The result is the most confident, searching music Rose has produced; muscular in its production yet emotionally vulnerable in its diffracted neon glow. A record informed by loss and the way grief mutates our senses, it's fitting that Rose channels the nuanced darkness of later Coil, at times the pounding EBM-production of Skinny Puppy and the near-spiritual alien-ness of Cocteau Twins. On Hila, the doors of perception are constantly melting, revealing the porous nature of the seen and unseen. The result is a synesthesia that flips the senses.

If Love As Projection was an outward-looking record looking to embrace the world, Hila brings the dark cosmos into inner space. Rose's love for 80s production and soaring melodies remain, they're cornerstones to her craft after all, but there's something more assured and gothic underneath the massive waves of sound. Opener Olo shimmers into a pulsating, cinematic brooder, Rose's vocal transcending and swan diving between registers in the chorus breakdowns. First single Cant Be Wrong serves as a transition from the optimistic pop of Rose's previous album, introducing a thumping 80s funk rhythm track under the soaring vocal performance. The ebullient Shadow Twin is that song's sibling, recalling major label-era Strawberry Switchblade melancholy mixed with Robin Guthrie's twinkling guitar work.

Hila blossoms darkly from here on in, blowing out into a glacial wide-screen sonic dynamic. On Rainman and the title track the listener is transported to a rain-soaked, nocturnal cityscape ridden with desire, moonlight cutting through blinds, intoxicating chasms without bounds. Rose's use of saxophone and digital synthesis recalls the nightmusic of Hats-era Blue Nile or the more ambient end of Emeralds' catalog. Indeed, in the towering synthetic cello sounds that climb into the mind on Hila, there's a distinct flavour of the instrumentals on Bowie's Low. This is musick to play in the dark, to light the way a little, just enough to trick the senses.
Leading into the strobe-filled haze, single Manifest pounds forward with a massive Industrial 4/4 beat and post-punk/goth musicality, an exercise in unlit ecstasy. For Best Of Times, the liberal saxophone passages feel like a suppressed, 80s Michael Mann soundtrack with Frankie Rose's effortless, melodic vocal performance probing, searching for connection. Navigating through the dry, iced landscape into a rising sun, closer Velvet Refrain flips the melancholy of the preceding passages. With a massive sound dripping with harmony, the clanging guitar and vocal duet feels they're sound-tracking an unexpected happy ending after bouts of darkness."

Freddie McGregor's Showcase album, released in 1981 and known in the UK as Lover's Rock Showcase Jamaica Style, marked a pivotal moment in the singer's career. Prior to this, McGregor had enjoyed only modest success, though his work, crafted with various producers, had consistently showcased a talented artist with an authentic voice.

A major turning point came in 1979 when he teamed up with producer Winston "Niney" Holness to create the acclaimed 'Mr. McGregor' album. That record significantly boosted his profile. On this record Roots and Romance are in perfect harmony as Niney's Dub magic meets McGregor's spin on classic soul, just as the title promises.

Lover's Rock Showcase Jamaica Style is available as limited numbered edition of 750 copies on orange vinyl.

"Formed in 1967 as a psychedelic electronic duo featuring Dan Taylor on drums and Simeon on a homemade synthesizer consisting of 12 oscillators (and an assortment of sound filters, telegraph keys, radio parts, lab gear and a variety of second hand electronic junk), Silver Apples quickly gained a reputation as New York's leading underground musical expression. Their pulsating rhythmic beats with the use of electronics laid the groundwork for what would become 'Krautrock'. Silver Apples was released in 1968 and still remains an innovative and revolutionary album. Their highly influential sound has influenced countless bands from Stereolab, Beastie Boys, Blur and more. 'Silver Apples... a beautiful and mysterious artifact.' - New York Times.



Sales points
- New 24 bit /96 kHz transfer taken from the original master tapes.



- Limited Blue Sky Colored Vinyl



- First Reissue from Original Tapes



- Currently Touring in the US and Europe



- 'Oscillations' featured in Pitchforks Top 200 songs from the 60's.

For any collaborative project to succeed, the artists involved need a creative unifier – a meeting point, if you will, of their disparate interests and experiences. In the case of Mondo Love & Betrayal, the joint project of Nottingham musical mainstays Neil ‘Nail’ Tolliday and Henry Claude Scott, there were two creative unifiers: a mutual love of classic 1980s synth-pop, as well as shared admiration for each other’s work.

Even so, such shared interests and respect for prior mutual endeavours is no guarantee of success. Yet as their eponymous debut album emphatically proves, the duo’s disparate experiences, characteristics and musical strengths have not only dovetailed beautifully, but also resulted in serious sonic gold. Put simply, Mondo Love & Betrayal is a stunning debut album rich in emotive songs, colourful melodies, atmospheric chord progressions and infectious grooves. Throw in the sun-splashed warmth and saucer-eyed, loved-up tactility of late 80s dance beats, and you have a breakthrough album whose timelessness is evident from start to finish.

The project’s roots lie in Tolliday’s desire to work with Scott, a virtuoso guitarist, talented producer and secret songwriter best-known for his work alongside Huw Costin as Torn Sail, and John ‘Ming’ Thompson as Brown Fang – both projects known for prioritising organic instrumentation and sunset-ready soundscapes over dancefloor-rooted beats.

Tolliday, of course, is one of British electronic music’s true polymaths – a long-serving house producer best-known for his long-running Bent project alongside fellow Nottingham resident Simon Mills. He initially approached Scott with the idea of providing vocals on a house track he was working on, but quickly suggested something else: an exploration of a classic synth-pop sound inspired by his love of Pet Shop Boys, New Order, Depeche Mode and the producers who worked with them – the likes of Martin Hannett, Arthur Baker, Stephen Hague and John Robie.

Scott accepted the invitation, seeing it as an opportunity to explore a different side of his musical personality. Their first recording session resulted in the ear-catching and memorable brilliance of ‘Correspondence’ – a tongue-in-cheek breakup song inspired by the death of landlines and the rise of mobile communications – and soon they were working on their debut album.

The resultant 10-track set is simply sublime, with Scott’s expressive delivery of his own lyrics on life, love, heartache and rejection working in perfect union with Tolliday’s kaleidoscopic and pleasingly authentic backing tracks – gorgeous and beautifully rendered instrumentals rich in memorable melodies, bittersweet chords, and subtle nods to ‘80s and early ‘90s dance-pop culture, from Shep Pettibone style remixes and Bernard Sumner guitar licks, to Beloved-esque piano parts and Chris Lowe chord progressions. Some listeners may also draw favourable comparisons with 21st century synth-pop practitioners, particularly Parcels, Private Agenda and the deeply emotive songs showcased by Junior Boys.

For proof, wrap your ears around such album highlights as opener ‘Boo Boo’, where Scott warns that “love and betrayal will haunt you” atop sparkling synths and Vince Clarke style grooves, the Behaviour-era PSB melancholy of recent single ‘Your Latest’, the mid-tempo dreaminess of ‘Beyond The Rainy City’, the early Depeche Mode chug of ‘Whatever Happened To Me’ and the tactile warmth of ‘Across The Plane’.

We could go on. In truth, the whole album is – in Scott’s words – “magical musical alchemy”. Wherever they choose to go next, Mondo Love & Betrayal is a seriously good sonic statement of intent.

2026 Repress

Deadbeat & Tikiman's occasional collaborative performances have since blown the minds of many audiences

Deadbeat. Tikiman. Infinity. Dub. A quadrangle of such obvious statement and perfect musical inference may very well never have been uttered for those of the wholly weeded out persuasion. Indeed, when the great book of Dub music is written the names Scott Monteith and Paul St Hilaire will undoubtedly figure highly in its chapters devoted to recent years. Monteith, the last great prodigal son of the doctrine handed down from the Blue Mount of Lord Scratch and King Tubby, St Hilaire the undisputed voice of a generation, those fanatical warrior monks, followers of the most Holy House of Ernestus and Von Oswald incarnate.

Having developed a fast friendship from their very first meeting in Montreal at the premier Micro Mutek event a decade ago, Deadbeat and Tikiman's occasional collaborative performances have since blown the minds of audiences from Berlin to Tokyo and many points in between. No great surprise then that their first album length venture is a Tour de Force of Dub music of the highest order.

Nearly a year in the making, the genetic code of Deadbeat's Infinity Dubs series gets shot through with a Dreader than Dread Kingstonian logic, hi hats dropping back from the three to the one, Tikiman at his most militant, poetic, fierce, and flowing. These are the recordings of two lions uncaged, and none who bare witness shall escape their fiery judgement.

If music is truly eternal, here be two voices which shall echo in infinity with all the weight, reverence, and dire power unleashed with every tectonic bass hit, and every whimsical turn of phrase. And if these eight burnt offerings are any indication of what happens when these two sit down for a session of smoke and reasoning, here's hoping they choose to do it frequently. Dub without end. Ad Infinitum.

2026 Repress

Macedonia's own Stojche is Fuse's next guest for the club's freshly made imprint. The long standing DJ and producer has been known to keep Detroit's playfully hybrid style as the focus of his work and 'Metaphor' is the case in point. His four tracks bounce through a nostalgic balance of techno, house, and more with a modern crisp. A refreshing take on club music, Stojche keeps techno's sometimes nonchalant attitude at arms length with a charismatic record that hits its mark with every measure.


The record's first track 'Counterpunch' features heavily lined percussion but still brews up a storm far and wide with resonant dub stabs and open hi hats. The drum machine boasts a full spectrum, rolling through a light show of melodic flashes, perfect for a room compressing soundsystem. The maximalist, vintage detail that Stojche brings to his compositions blurs the lines between classic genres in a time of hasty hybridization, which gives it a sort of authenticity that can't be taken for granted. 'Chordal Tribe', on the other hand, raises the general euphoria of the EP. Luring in the listener with bright pads and full-on drums, Stochje's work is reliable main slot material that adds color to any mix while providing a persuasive low end. Shimmering hi hats give it an ethereal quality making it an appropriate interlude for almost any context. Moving on to the B side, the producer sharpens up his rhythm and emphasizes the hardgroove influence in 'Signal Drive'. Softening the pace of his drums with free use of melodic chord stabs, Stojche opens up his dance floor for a crowd bonding record once again, complete with filter transitions and pummeling toms. As the final contribution, his title track 'Metaphor' begins with a more obscure opening to conclude his EP for Fuse. Leaning more to a techno cut, the record remains flamboyant as ever with open hats and rides shuffling through his arrangement. A muted main synth becomes apparent to focus the energy of the track while allowing for liveset-like drum flickering to take shape beneath, claiming the immortality of old club records with the technical precision of a seasoned modern producer.

Oscar Later is the solo project of one half of Once Twice, formerly known as Parallels. The EP takes its premise from the 1967 Outer Space Treaty, which ruled that no nation could claim ownership of the Moon or any other celestial body. Across six tracks, that idea of ownership, distance and free imagination runs through the record, which combines breakbeat and shimmering synths with processed vocals and clips from vintage ads and obscure films.

"I wanted the record to feel like public-domain myths, commercial promises and space-age optimism all colliding," Oscar says, "blurring the line between memory and fantasy."

Opener 'Air Time for Andre' channels chopped-up breaks reminiscent of Skee Mask, combined with processed found audio. 'Wenlocked', named after the East London street where it was written, develops from a downtempo sketch into a heavier club track as the bassline builds, inspired by releases on Voam and Floating Points' live sets. 'It Never Made Sense' steps away from the dancefloor, built around a granulated Orion Sun vocal that, as Oscar puts it, "ties the track into quite a surreal space," leaning towards Burial, Overmono and Radiohead.

The title track, 'The Moon Belongs to You', runs a vocoded 90s ad through a detuned one-note synth. It's the track Oscar says "best encapsulates the intention of the EP as a whole: surreal, wacky and clubby." 'Yaya' keeps the energy up as a straight techno cut, its gated bassline locking in around a chopped vocal and pitched samples. Closer 'That's Quite A Lot Of Zeroes!' expands from a stripped-back Buchla line into something huge, driven by chopped samples and inspired by sci-fi scores like Dune and Annihilation.

The cover is designed by art director Will Millner with designer Josh Lowe, a homage to space food and 80s industrial design geared to survive life on the moon. It's available as a limited vacuum-packed 12" record.

The EP launches alongside a music video for 'It Never Made Sense', directed by Louis Mackay, telling the story of a group of kids who steal the moon for themselves.

WRWTFWW Records is very excited to announce the first ever release for the Cyberpunk 2077: Future Sound of Night City soundtrack - atmospheric music from one of the most celebrated video games of the decade! The compilation, showcasing a who's who of Polish electronic underground, is available as a limited edition 45rpm-cut yellow vinyl 3LP in heavyweight 3-panel gatefold with a sticker sheet. The album is also available on CD with super jewel case, and in digital formats.

Dive deep into the pulsating world of Cyberpunk 2077 with an immersive soundscape perfectly capturing the gritty and neon-soaked streets of Night City. Curated by Rafa? Grobel and Wojtek Sokó? of Most Records, the epic 15-track compilation features a diverse offering of electrifying Polish beats, cohesively flowing between techno, ambient, synthwave, bass music, industrial, and IDM. Ominous, powerful, evocative, and filled with futuristic nostalgia, the music of Night City is a thrill ride in a dystopian urban landscape, heavy hearts riding through the night, menacing streets surrounded by infinite skyscrapers. The music transports you, soul-stirring, cinematic, and timeless, the most beautiful kind of escapism.

The award-winning Cyberpunk 2077 action role-playing game was developed by CD Projekt Red and published in 2020 and has since become one of the most recognized and best selling video games of all time. With a cast including Keanu Reeves and Idris Elba, unmistakable visuals, music, and atmosphere, CP77 has earned a spot in the pantheon of 2020s pop culture.


Points of interests

- For fans of video game soundtracks, ambient, techno, synthwave, vaporwave, industrial, dark electronic music, retro-futuristic moods, neon lights, Tech Noir, Keanu Reeves, bass music, All Foods, cities by night, skycrapers, urban adventures, dystopian universes.

- The soundtrack for Cyberpunk 2077: Future Sound of Night City available for the first time everrrr !

Silver Vinyl
Simon Popp is back on Squama with his fourth album Trio.
At its heart, Trio is a work about collaboration, playfulness and unification. It is music as a means of coming together, a sonic equivalent to the Japanese philosophy of Kintsugi, in which broken ceramics are repaired with a visible golden lacquer. Rather than hiding the breaks, Kintsugi embraces them, making them part of the story, a form of delicate transformation. Popp and his collaborators Flurin Mück and Sebastian Wolfgruber take a similar approach: three distinct drummers, three different temperaments, three personal styles. Fused together into a single expressive instrument.
The album is a celebration of timbre, texture, and touch, its sound palette drawn from across continents and traditions. Human beings at all points of time, across all cultures and continents have used music to celebrate, mourn, worship and bond. Along with our voices, creating rhythm with our bodies. Clapping, stomping, hitting with sticks. A celebration of rhythm as both a shared human memory and an audible expression of close bonds.
Trio is a reflection of the beauty of imperfection and the timeless pull of rhythm as a shared human force. The cracks are not hidden. They are filled with gold.

Northern Earth is Dean McPhee's sixth full-length album and the second release on his own label, Bass Ritual. Expanding on the low-end focus of 2024's Astral Gold and last year's The Bradford Boar on the Folklore Tapes label, Northern Earth integrates overdriven guitar, a wooden snare drum pedal and a powerful 18-inch subwoofer, pushing his sound further beyond the sparse fingerpicked solo guitar of his earlier releases. Drawing on influences from psychedelic rock, British folk, dub and underground electronic music, the album's three expansive compositions - including the side-long title track - were honed through live performance and recorded live with no overdubs at McPhee's home in Bradford. His solo setup - stacked valve amps, subwoofer, guitar, percussion pedals and expansive pedalboard - now functions as a single self-contained instrument, layering hypnotic basslines, ritualistic loops and fluid melodies with physical weight and a deep sense of space.

“At this point in his career, each new Dean McPhee release feels like a legitimate event” – Brainwashed

“There’s really no one else who can create (and sustain) the darkly seductive mood that’s embedded within his work.” - Aquarium Drunkard

“Dean McPhee stands out as a true one-off in a crowded field.” - Loud & Quiet