In a most original impetus this album traverses forty years of Italian new wave and singer-songwriter tradition. As in the desert where Infesta’s urge is to walk, we are ambushed by the most intense thermal and sonic difference.
It is from here that this important journey we mustn’t miss begins. It leads us eight thousand meters deep in the blue abyss. Not quite enough to come out the other side and, as a kite, bestow all the heights that I will reach. These depths are nevertheless necessary to adjust our eyes to the darkness that lives within us, as a machine to burst our hearts to which we can’t and won't be accomplices.
Machine against machine. The increasing pressure of the lashes of an incessant current, at times sweet and at times sour, on which all the courage is sung and yet is everywhere dispersed like thoughts on water and melodies to be lost at sea. Darkness persists: you said the world can be lived where all was taken. And it’s a crazy and estranging babbling that, stripped by a current, answers: never never never never, in no direction.
My companions, come back, the breaking point has been found, we sing together. Leaf after leaf the time has come: it is possible to destroy the Machine in a mad blinding light.
Search:point no point
2026 Repress in generic white sleeve!
It's been quite a wait for new &ME material here on Keinemusik. But these two new cuts, adding to our catalogue number KM046, sure have been worth waiting for. The EP starts with „The Rapture Pt.II“ and as the title already suggests, it coherently takes up where his last original material had left us, in a stirred state of sweet, harmony-kissed affection. Known as a virtuoso of sound-details, &ME lives up to that reputation, implementing fine synth-elements and temperately rattling percussions, all conjoined by shimmering layers and, of course, an ultimately heart-melting Piano improvisation that at some point will play along to the rhythm of its synthetic brother to a finale that will leave no crowd untouched.
"Solaris" on the flipside adds indeed a futuristic note to the arrangement, opening up with a broken beat and propelling claps. A cut that, as much as its predecessor, is relying on flow and organic shifts rather than forced and peaktime formatted gimmickry, adding a synth arpeggio, white noise, vocal chants and
harmonies in a rather subtle way. Nevertheless, it unfolds a compelling strength to heat the dancefloor gradually through its playtime.
“Black Jacket” is a love letter between two bands separated by continents but united by mutual admiration. Contriva, of Berlin, and Chessie of Washington, DC, first came together in 2001 when sharing a stage, sparking a deep connection over their respective takes on textural, emotive, and mostly instrumental music that merges post-rock, ambient, and experimental elements into unique visions. Fast forward two decades and many trips to their respective studios and we now have “Black Jacket”, a double LP of musical alchemy that builds upon the expressionistic, idiosyncratic sounds of these two groups. A new classic that proves far greater than the sum of its parts.
Begun in the mid 1990's, Washington DC's Chessie is Stephen Gardner (also of noisy shoegaze pioneers, Lorelei) and Ben Bailes, whose various LP's for Slumberland's Dropbeat imprint and Plug Research pair abstract electronics and melancholy post-rock in search of the sounds and feelings of railways and train travel.
Berlin's Contriva, (Monika Enterprises, Lok Musik, and Morr Music) features Masha Qrella (known for her solo works for Morr Music), Max Punktezahl (also of Munich indie legends the Notwist and Berlin's Jersey and Saroos), Hannes Lehmann and Rike Schuberty. For over a decade beginning in the mid-1990's, Contriva crafted compelling instrumentals, grafting experimental textures onto beautiful and complex indie songs.
Together, the six of them have created “Black Jacket.”
First time reissue of JP free jazz rarity, pre-Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai group.
The single album self-released by the quartet Shūdan Sokai in 1977 is one of the most vital documents of mid-seventies Japanese free jazz, documenting Tokyo’s free scene at the precise moment when it began to shift to a handful of tiny venues on the western fringes of the city. In Free Jazz in Japan, Teruto Soejima identifies the extant venue Aketa no Mise in Nishi-Ogikubo as the pioneer of this decamping from the centre: a cramped basement beneath a rice shop, seating just 20 people. Musician-run, operated on a shoestring, these spaces offered a vital site for community, creativity, and a small measure of financial independence — “even though it was in a basement, in spirit it was a loft.”
Among the most active of the new venues was Alone in Hachiōji, nearly an hour from Shinjuku, in a district shaped by universities, lower rents, and a thriving counterculture. Originally opened in 1973 as a jazu kissa, Alone was unusually spacious and equipped with a stage, grand piano, and drum kit. Around 1974, Junji Mori and Yasuhiro Sakakibara began working there, booking free jazz players on weekends and establishing the venue as a crucial hub. Mori recalls early appearances by figures including Kazutoki Umezu, Toshinori Kondo, and others who would define the scene.
In early 1976, Umezu and pianist Yoriyuki Harada — recently returned from New York’s loft jazz environment, where they had played with musicians such as David Murray and William Parker — formed Shūdan Sokai with Mori and drummer Takashi Kikuchi. The name, meaning “mass evacuation,” pointed to their self-chosen exile in Hachiōji. With Alone as their home base, the quartet developed a music characterized by an infectious sense of enjoyment and a willingness to integrate free jazz with elements of song structure. Harada switched between piano and bass; the group experimented with rap-like vocal pieces, jabbering nursery rhymes over bass rhythms.
They returned to Alone on December 24 to record Sono zen’ya (Eve), releasing it on their own Des Chonboo Records, partially funded by advertisements from local businesses printed on the rear cover. The closing “Ballad for Seshiru,” dedicated to Harada’s newborn son, unfolds over a delicate piano melody that moves into emphatic chords as intertwining alto lines rise and spiral.
Alone closed in September 1977, and Shūdan Sokai soon dissolved, later morphing into the expanded Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai Orchestra. What remains is a recording rooted in a specific place and moment: a fiercely independent scene sustained by small rooms, close listening, and collective commitment.
Fourth issue of Shelter Press' annual publication series »Spectres« (in association with INA GRM), this time themed around ›voice‹. Featuring contributions from/about François J. Bonnet, John Giorno, David Grubbs, Yannick Guédon, Lee Gamble, Sarah Hennies, Haela Ravenna Hunt-Hendrix, Stine Janvin, Joan La Barbara, Youmna Saba, Akira Sakata, Pierre Schaeffer, Peter Szendy and Ghédalia Tazartès.
The book includes an essay about the essence of improvisation by Joan La Barbara, Lee Gamble looking at neural networks and vocal simulation systems, an untitled anecdote from Ghédalia Tazartès (RIP) and Stine Janvin on the necessity of singing, plus much more.
»The voice is everywhere, infiltrating everything, making civilisation, marking out territories with infinite borders, spreading from the farthest reaches to the most intimate spaces. It can be neither reduced nor summarised. And accordingly, when taken as a theme, the voice is inexhaustible, even when seen in the light of its very particular relation with the sonic or the musical, as is the case in most of the texts collected in this volume. There is no point therefore in trying to circumscribe or amalgamate the multiple avatars of the voice. We must rather try to apprehend what the voice can do, to envisage its landscape, its potential effects.«
— Extract from the editors' foreword.
The Fuga compilation returns to Token with its seventh installment by a fresh batch of artists emphasizing the cryptic sound of the Belgian record label. The V/A displays urgency as its focal point, expanding and contracting its acoustic space throughout to channel instability. With eight contributions, Fuga VII sifts through nail biting arpeggios, frenzied percussion, and obscure ambiance to recalibrate techno's current soundscape.
Opening the compilation is contemporary techno mainstay Rene Wise with his debut contribution to the record label 'Rough Rider'. In this A1, Wise plays to his strengths by blending deep techno influences with hyper-focused rhythmic work. With a hint of tribalism, he conjures up synthwork from far off to whip motion into heavy drum patterns. Following this first track, STIPP and Sandrien take control in presenting 'Corrie', a sequence-forward groover that slides through drum programing to streamline rhythm. A shrill pad comes in at the halfway mark, completely lifting the energy of 'Corrie' to strain the track's obscurity with an ethereal counterweight. The brief passage of these kinds of elements provides a lot of dynamic to what would otherwise be a powerfully straightforward piece. Diving deeper, Red Rooms unveils 'Limited Sensory' as the next chapter of the compilation. Always swift and exact, the German artist continues to push into the ultra immersive with a web of elements that whiz by for a peaktime lock in. Cold in attitude, Red Rooms tunnels through 'Limited Sensory' with quick drumsand far-off percussive hits that rumble through the track. Stepping up afterwards is Lindsey Herbert with 'Oscillations in Space' - an appropriately named recording that experiments with mania as a tool for the dancefloor. Fast and spiraling, Herbert keeps her hands on the arpeggio's filter to contain tension through thunderous reverb transitions, balancing panic with pace. AgainstMe then stretches out the followup with the commanding 'Phase Shift' to double down on weight. Textural intimidation and stomping percussion is given the space it needs to perform on heavy weight sound systems, making it an austere middle point for Fuga. MAL HOMBRE then guides the listener to more elastic sound design in 'Critical Velocity', in a most appropriate Token fashion. Snowballing in intensity halfway through, MAL HOMBRE pushes the cutoff of his melody and programs snare rolls for vintage craze through the second section. Bells clash with ringing hats to fly the track along its course without looking back or letting go. Conor Wall takes control with 'The Strategy' that focuses on pace rather than melody, weaponizing metallic texture for a deep dancefloor experience. The ambiance does a lot of story telling here, marking breaks and riding through drops to provide grit to an already substantial record. This leads us to the final contribution in Fuga VII - 'Ad Libitum'. Here, Porteix emphasizes the conclusion of the compilation with mystery. The synths slither around pulsating rhythm, creating uninterrupted motion throughout the track's entirety. Porteix draws the curtains on an inquisitive note, keeping the suspense high until the next Fuga compilation comes around.
- A1: Made Of Stone (808 State Mix)
- A2: I Am The Resurrection (Jon Carter Mix)
- A3: Fools Gold (Grooverider’s Mix)
- B1: One Love (Utah Saint’s Mix)
- B2: I Wanna Be Adored (Bloody Valentine Edit)
- B3: Fools Gold (Top Won Mix)
- C1: Elephant Stone (Mint Royale Remix)
- C2: Waterfall (12” Remix)
- C3: She Bangs The Drums (Elephant Remix)
- D1: Shoot You Down (The Soul Hooligan Remix)
- D2: Waterfall (Justin Robertson’s Mix)
- D3: Elizabeth My Dear (Kinobe Remix)
Always a dancefloor friendly act, The Remixes (originally issued 25 years ago) is the sound of the Roses biggest tunes revisited by many of the foremost names in UK dance music at that time – including legends such as Paul Oakenfold and Steve Osborne and fellow Mancunians 808 State and A Guy Called Gerald. With fully restored artwork, including notes from the remixers, this 2LP set features some tracks that have really stood the test of time. “808 State turns ‘Made of Stone’ into an aggressive, high-pitched piece of electro-pop. Rabbit in the Moon earns points simply for…. making over ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ into a slow acid house excursion. Elephant dares to twist ‘She Bangs the Drums’ into an echoing, spooky vocoder workout.”
The history of house and disco music is full of gospel soul singers creating anthemic bangers for the dance floor. Annie and the Caldwells, a family band from West Point, Mississippi, are the latest to join their ranks.
============================
This collection — featuring remixes from musclecars, Kornél Kovács, Alexis Taylor (of Hot Chip), and disco icons Nicky Siano and Justin Strauss — follows the release of the Caldwells’ wildly acclaimed debut Can’t Lose My (Soul) Luaka Bop, Spring 2025. Hailed as “a masterpiece” by The Guardian (★★★★★), and one of the best albums of the year by The Times, MOJO, UNCUT, and The Economist, Can’t Lose My (Soul) found fans all over the world — like Sir Elton John, who called their album “A great, great record that I insist you go out and buy.”
“I was blown away when I first heard the original version of ‘Wrong’,” says Kornel Kovács, whose remix of “Wrong” appears on this white label. “Deborah’s voice floored me, as well as the background singers. One of the greatest vocal performances I’ve heard, let alone worked with. The result is a club-ready take that’s become a highlight in my recent DJ sets.”
Producers Brandon Weems and Craig Handfield (of musclecars) had a similar experience when they heard the family for the first time: “We quickly fell in love with the groovy bassline and the choir vocals,” said Craig. “We thought it’d be fitting to put our own spin on it, while paying homage to those jive brothers from Tulsa. The uplifting keys paired with the punch of the drums, rounded out with that organ…this one is sure to bring a joyful noise!”
Annie Caldwell and her family have since performed in more than twenty countries on four continents, and recently made a star turn on the UK's preeminent music program Later... with Jools Holland. They’re hitting the road again in 2026. Watch this space.
[c] Wrong [You Dropped a Bomb] - Extended Wooden Dance Floor Mix (A Nicky Siano Production) 6:48
- A1: Even God Gets Stuck In Devotion
- A2: Plenty For All The Masses
- A3: Plenty For All Of Lifes Messes
- A4: Even God Gets Stuck In Devotion Featuring Zach Phillips
- A5: Garden
- A6: Photography The Hard Way
- A7: Why I Remember Each Day Of Summer
- B1: Ln60 - Jupiter Opposite Jupiter
- B2: Rose Of Mysterious Union
- B3: A Car With No Lights On
- B4: Her Masters Voice
- B5: Memory Always Sees The Loved One Smaller
- B6: In Filth Your Mystery Is Kingdom
- B7: To Live Happily
Cassette[16,77 €]
Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.
in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.
Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.
Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”
- Even God Gets Stuck In Devotion
- Plenty For All The Masses
- Plenty For All Of Lifes Messes
- Even God Gets Stuck In Devotion Featuring Zach Phillips
- Garden
- Photography The Hard Way
- Why I Remember Each Day Of Summer
- LN60: Jupiter Opposite Jupiter
- Rose Of Mysterious Union
- A Car With No Lights On
- Her Masters Voice
- Memory Always Sees The Loved One Smaller
- In Filth Your Mystery Is Kingdom
- To Live Happily
COLOURED VINYL[23,11 €]
Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.
in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.
Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.
Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”
A cocktail of rebellious queer vocal fragments, deceptive percussive granules and swaying hammered vibrations, upsammy and Valentina Magaletti's first collaboration trembles with suspense. The seeds of 'Seismo' were sown following a commission from Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum to soundtrack an exhibition of work from the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen in Rotterdam and the duo didn't want to approach their collaboration flippantly. So, wandering the museum's maze of rooms, they recorded various improvised percussive sounds with their arsenal of microphones, using the space to inform various rhythms and textures that were sculpted later into electroacoustic vignettes. This was just the starting point, though; as Magaletti and upsammy began performing together, the project evolved and 'Seismo' began to take shape. The duo had struck on a salient aesthetic concept, using mostly digital and acoustic mallet instruments to blur the boundary between their roles and create friction between the synthetic and the authentic. And the finished record is a phantasmagoric push-and-pull between its various conflicting elements: harmony and dissonance, randomness and predictability, openness and constraint. 'Seismo' isn't the first time that upsammy has studied her environment in search of revelation. On her acclaimed second album, 2024's 'Germ in a Population of Buildings', the Amsterdam-based DJ, producer and multidisciplinary artist erected her complex, unorthodox rhythms and eerie melodies around a modernist frame of field recordings collected in various cityscapes, countering heavyweight basslines with subtle, microscopic sounds. London-based Italian vanguard Magaletti, meanwhile, has applied her unique logic to innumerable projects at this point, working with everyone from batida icon Nídia and hardcore-dub outfit Moin to French writer Fanny Chiarello and British bass scientist Shackleton. For years she's approached the drums with criticism, attempting to challenge any preconceptions, something that's most visible on 2020's 'A Queer Anthology of Drums'. And both artists' thoughtful perspectives are welded together seamlessly on 'Seismo', a dizzying suite of eight eccentric statements that's fragile but never insecure, gauzy but not indistinct. An unnerving sense of space characterizes 'It Comes to an End' as Magaletti's in situ improvisations herald for upsammy's microscopic glitches and chiming pitch-bent melodies. It's almost unbalancing to witness the track's impossible dimensionality, the interplay between reverberant marimba hits and bone-dry synths, or percussion that's been recorded and processed in consciously different settings. A new architecture emerges in the sound itself that the two artists scan and explore meticulously, testing its boundaries with undulating hybridized rhythms on the invigorating 'Superimposed' and offsetting the powdery drums with liquified smacks and alien voices. The duo's vibrations are knotted with piano flourishes on 'Hyperlocalize', balanced with artificial clanks and clangs that disappear into the track's sonorous atmosphere, replaced by whispers and half-hallucinated insectoid chirps. 'Seismo' is an album that feeds off the energy generated by its juxtapositions: the tension and anticipation that's melted by rapid, hyperactive movement and the finely drawn rhythms disrupted by a layer of indistinct, barely perceptible microsounds. It's a collaboration that sounds like two minds challenging each other but not wrestling, each peering from their own distinct vantage point and imagining a third landscape shaped by optimistic, queer vibrations.
UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.
Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.
Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.
It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.
The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.
The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.
In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”
It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”
The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.
Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.
So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.
They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.
Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.
But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.
So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!
Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source. Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges.
As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves. The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.
With Variations for Light Waves, Swedish composer Linnéa Talp deepens the focus and intensity that shaped her 2022 debut Arch of Motion. Once again, the breath and hum of the pipe organ form the album’s core, but here she pushes further into deep listening and sonic nuance. Across seven pieces, she lingers on the instrument’s most resonant points, allowing its character to reveal itself slowly and patiently.
Talp’s path to this work has unfolded with similar steadiness. After first emerging with her project Deerest, she shifted toward improvisation and minimal composition, guided by an increasing sensitivity to sound and perception. Careful listening is now central to her practice, informing both her methods and her musical language.
The album was recorded over four years on pipe organs across Sweden, including a small funeral-chapel instrument in Lötsjökapellet—an environment Talp describes as an exceptional space for listening. Several pieces feature Christer Bothén (contrabass clarinet) and Mats Äleklint (trombone), whose playing blends seamlessly into her aerated organ tones. The improvisation “Air On Both Sides,” recorded in 2022 with Bothén, became the project’s starting point, an immersive bath in glowing harmonics. At times she interweaves Buchla recordings, setting electronic breath against acoustic resonance.
Talp’s fascination with quietness and delicacy is balanced by an interest in sonic brittleness. The closing title track gradually dismantles a downward chord progression, drifting into gentle collapse, while the brief opener pushes the organ’s pipes into gasping strain. These moments create a music open to chance, instability, and transformation.
Threads running through the album include an interest in chords, subtle improvisation, light, and memories of coastal landscapes. Talp also connects the work to the “thick white fog” surrounding her daughter’s birth. The result is music that envelopes like mist yet continually reveals new shapes—a world o
- Giftet Sprider Sig
- Vinster
- Ignorans
- Allt Raseras
- Ekorrhjulet
- Nedmontering
- Ingen Forandring
- Vaggarna Rasar
- Helvetet Pa Jorden
- Logn Blir Sanning
- Dom Snackar
I'm very excited to present the second Desolate release from this amazing band. "Dissekerad's newest and strongest 12" release yet. 12 new songs from a now-classic modern band made up of Swedish scene vets, all having put in their time in many other now- legendary acts: from TOTALITAR to MAKEBERT FYND, AVSKUM to BRAINBOMBS, and many more. Poffen's bands alone are probably too numerous to name at this point. VAGGARNA RASAR gives us exactly what we expect and hope for--a master class of Swedish mangel HC distilled to its most essential and purest form. Somehow the songs feel even more urgent this time, paired with fuller, thicker production than previous releases. The blown-out, contrasted-to-hell artwork perfectly represents the music, with song titles on the front cover because why not; fuck it. Time marches on and so does hardcore, but some things don't need to change.
Carlos Giffoni reconnects with Thurston Moore for two sides of loose-limbed axe noise, oscillator worship and hard-phased, Spacemen 3-style feedback.
Giffoni’s been on a roll recently. Since the No Fun founder returned to the scene with »Vain¡, a genius set of synth mutations that appeared in iDEAL back in 2018, he’s been slowly ramping up the activity, dropping the celestial »Dream Walker« on Stephen O’Malley’s Ideologic Organ in 2024 and following it with »Pendulum«, a bumper compendium of collaborations, just a few weeks back. For those who remember Giffoni’s first trip round the block, he was always able to hold his own chopping it up in person, not just by mail.
Just scrub through his early catalog and you’ll see collabs with Nels Cline and Chris Corsano, Merzbow, Jim O’Rourke and Lasse Marhaug, and of course, Thurston Moore. The two rekindle their thing on »IGUANA’« picking up where 2001’s fabled »4 Guitars Live« performance left off. Here, Giffoni straddles a tabletop synth and FX while Moore attacks his signature Jazzmaster with a drumstick and a screwdriver – vibes fully intact.
Moore is on blistering form, sounding as if he’s taken a step back to refresh his approach since the early ‘00s when he could be spotted moonlighting on any number of basement-adjacent noise sides. Sawing at his strings and turning the guitar into a shrieking resonator, he leaves only faint vapours of the classic Sonic Youth sound as opiating accents on his animalistic wails and rumbles. On the opening half, his whammy – assisted shreds are balanced out by Giffoni’s off-world whirrs and airlocked vibrations, building a dense wall of noise towards an unexpectedly elegiac conclusion. At some point, Giffoni’s rasping churr transforms into a simmering shudder and Moore’s into hymnal drones – squint a bit and you could almost call it pretty.
Of course, they ramp things up on the flip, dissolving the melancholia with smokey white noise and twangy, post-Derek Bailey chimes that Giffoni accompanies with aggy oscillations. Like every great taped noise set, the recording quality is crucial - »IGUANA« was captured from the pit by Guillermo Hernandez Avendano, the dad of Lia Miranda who provides the cover photo. It’s that kinda show.
As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.
The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.
Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.
The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.
‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.
Silicon Scally and Fleck E.S.C. need no introduction at this stage. Both artists are veterans not just of Sheffield's Central Processing Unit label but of modern electro as a whole, with the pair having decades of skin in the game at this point. Their new release, a four-track EP entitledSlipwhere Silicon Scally handles the first half and Fleck E.S.C. the second, carries itself with the adventurous confidence of a record made by masters of their craft.
Slipopener 'Phased Array' is exactly the kind of top quality machine-funk tackle you'd expect from this meeting of minds. The beat programming is deliciously tactile from the off, hissing and clanking like machinery in an old Detroit factory. The feel of 'Phased Array' is altered, though, when the chords come in, a series of alternating floating sounds which give the track an altogether eerier feel. When all of this is coupled with the otherworldly synth blurts that periodically force their way to the front of the track, the overall effect is a piece of real depth assembled by an expert practitioner.
'Phased Array' is followed up by 'Stax', another brilliantly propulsive number. Here we find the drum beat - one which is a little reminiscent of that Kraftwerk tune about the numbers, no less - once more offset by some decidedly more shadowy synth work, all while arpeggiated keyboard licks work against an intricate web of basslines, chords and unidentifiable flying synth tones.
Fleck E.S.C. opens theSlipB-side with 'Good Ride', a number where the nudge-wink title is borne out by a track built around looped snippets of sighing vocals. That said, with a bassline that sounds like a blurting old landline telephone, a ghoulish synth lead and all manner of motion-sick breakdowns, the 'ride' in question could just as well be aWipeout-style whizz through hyperspace as anything more suggestive. 'Good Ride' also sets itself apart from the other joints here by showing off a swaying halftime breakdown.
'Intox Remedy',Slip's closer, wraps the EP in a manner which continues some of the trends of the record's earlier tracks - richly tuneful chords, precision-engineered broken beat drum programming and a wide palette of delightfully unusual synth tones are all present and correct. However, there is also something about the chords here which pares back the eeriness of previous joints for a bit more of a wide-eyed, stargazing feel, and as such 'Intox Remedy' sees the record out by placing the listener firmly back in the cosmos.
Tough enough for the dancefloor and intricate enough for home listening, theSlipEP is a fabulous collaboration from two of the most respected voices in the electro game.
Xylitol, aka producer and DJ Catherine Backhouse, shifts up the refinement and musical breadth for her second album Blumenfantasie, the follow-up to her Planet Mu debut Anemones.
With Blumenfantasie, Xylitol wanted “to make space and for the music to float and propel at once”, finding routes through the pointillistic figures, cascading synths and the meditative stillness of kosmische musik and bolder breakbeat programming. She reaches this delicate balance through careful subtraction, hoping “to convey a sense of intimacy and sadness but without sentimentality” which she manages with a feel and sound that's raw and intuitive.
Blumenfantasie rolls through detailed jungle workouts that flutter and bleep, through beatless ambience, taking a rare dip below 160 bpm for the elegiac Mirjana, the album’s most explicit nod to Krautrock with a drum break chopped up from Amon Duul II’s anthemic ‘Archangel’s Thunderbird’, through to Halo, a bare bones grime rhythm that calls to mind the missing link between industrial pioneers Nurse With Wound and Wiley's Eskibeat.
Catherine cast her net to draw in experimental audiovisual duo Sculpture and Reading based post-rock band The Leaf Library as collaborators, pulling the former’s whirling eddies of musique concrète into a slice of sublime aquatic jungle, and the latter’s radiophonic folksong into a dark and disorientating breakbeat workout equally indebted to Source Direct as to Broadcast.
Blumenfantasie moves with a confident, self-effacing fluidity which has been informed by DJ Bunnyhausen’s more regular DJ gigs. She speculates ‘if this album feels more cohesive than its predecessor it's likely because I've been DJing a lot more, with Worthing Techno Militia, with central and eastern european electronica collective Slav to the Rhythm, as well as being part of Italo Disco crew Flex. Moving between these zones seemed to open up hidden pathways between the disparate musical trajectories they represent.'
While Anemones contrasted the rough and the delicate, its successor is an album built for the head, hips and heart, with painterly sounds and a sense of intimacy that encourages deep listening while keeping its eyes on the strobelight and its feet on the dancefloor.
- 1: Mr. Sentimental
- 2: Saran Wrapped Cash
- 3: Ladies' Night (Feat. Luxury Skin)
- 4: Pay Pigs
- 5: Bedrot
- 6: Monet
- 7: Pretty In Pink (Feat. Luxury Skin)
- 8: Pliers (Feat. Luxury Skin)
- 9: Screentime
- 10: I Have A Key To Your House
- 11: Camgirl
- 12: Sweet Talk (Feat. Ameokama)
- 13: Taravista (Feat. Luxury Skin)
- 14: Mary Kate & Ashley
- 15: Despair (Feat. Latter)
Pleasure, shame, and survival often arrive tangled together, indistinguishable in the moment. Camgirl, from Crippling Alcoholism, takes that entanglement as its starting point. Rather than separating desire from damage, the record allows them to coexist, tracing a path through obsession, performance, and persistence without offering clean resolution.
Camgirl is the 2025 breakthrough album from Boston’s Crippling Alcoholism, a record that frames pop immediacy against obsession, endurance, and collapse. Built from ear-wormy hooks and abrasive noise rock textures, the album smuggles grotesque and confrontational subject matter into songs that remain deliberately melodic. Pleasure and revulsion blend throughout, with choruses that linger even as the lyrics refuse comfort.
Released on September 12, 2025, Camgirl follows a loose narrative centered on a sex worker moving through cycles of exploitation and survival, treating intimacy as spectacle and visibility as threat. Songs flicker between desire and despair, confession and performance, flooded with artificial light. Despite its subject matter, the record resists nihilism. Its closing moments arrive quietly triumphant, not through escape or redemption, but through persistence itself.
Originally released on vinyl by Portrayal of Guilt Records, the first pressing of Camgirl sold out quickly. The Flenser reissue makes the album widely available for the first time, reaffirming it as a defining statement from a band operating at the intersection of pop form, noise, and lived experience.
Press Quotes
Camgirl proves that Crippling Alcoholism can evolve without losing their edge, and this record is a dark, irresistible bop. - Lambgoat
Elements of goth rock and melancholic vocals call back to loud rock while blending with an overall instrumental field brimming with energy. - Outside noise
Blurring the lines between outsider noise rock and dark glamorous synth-laden pop under a deceptively alluring glow… compulsively, squirmingly catchy. - The Progressive




















