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Take Me, I’m Yours is the first collaboration album between Alan Abrahams and Jan Jelinek. Released through the latter’s faitiche, it builds upon multi-layered vocal sketches by the former. The Paris-based artist, primarily known for his work as Portable and Bodycode, supplied Jelinek with multi-layered song sketches that the German artist subjected to a rigorous process of manipulation, excavating the ambiguities of the original material and transforming its rhythms into subtle pulses. Take Me, I’m Yours is neither a typical Abrahams record nor a classic Jelinek album—it is something third, mediating between the physicality of the voice and the abstraction of electronic sound design.

The two had crossed paths before really getting to know each other after Abrahams invited Jelinek to play at one of his Süd Electronic parties. The idea of a collaboration emerged slowly. “It started as an experiment, and over the past few years grew from a few tracks into this album,” says Abrahams. He describes recording the basic material as a “tantalizing” process, not knowing how Jelinek would transform his material, some of which was based on wordless chanting, while other tracks were working with lyrical content. However, their mutual trust allowed Jelinek to remove the harmonies, radically reduce the rhythms, and concentrate on Abrahams’ voice.

Jelinek heard something “fragile” in this voice, “moments of doubt and dark premonitions.” He points to Forever as an example. “Alan’s original song reminded me of classic vocal house, but his voice seemed to almost break,” he says. “This contradiction made the piece even bigger, because we hear a singer in the moment of an awakening.” He further accentuated such tensions through arrhythmic synth modulations and time-stretching algorithms, while also adding concrete sounds from a variety of sources. With its dedication to both transforming and amplifying the emotional qualities hidden within Abrahams’ pieces, Take Me, I’m Yours functions as a dialogue between those two singular artists.

Das Indie-Pop-Quartett Veps aus Oslo ist zurück mit seinem dritten Album ,ChurchyardStreet 8B", dem ersten beim schwedischen Indie-Label PNKSLM Recordings (ShitKid, Clutter, Vegas Water Taxi etc.). Die Band hat sich als eine der interessantesten Indie-Bands Nordeuropas etabliert. Helena, Laura, June und Maja kennen sich schon seit der Grundschule und gründeten die Band im Alter von 14 Jahren. Ihre brillante Debüt-EP ,Open The Door" (veröffentlicht 2021 bei Kanine Records) ebnete den Weg für ihr ebenso großartiges Debütalbum ,Oslo Park" und den Nachfolger ,Dedicated To". Mit gerade einmal 22 Jahren auf diesem Planeten stehen Veps erst am Anfang ihrer Karriere, haben aber schon eine Fülle von Erfahrungen gesammelt, während sie weitermachen, mit ihrem neuen Album "ChurchyardStreet 8B", ihrem bisher besten Werk.

Record Kicks freut sich, die Vinyl-Neuauflage zum 10-jährigen Jubiläum von ,Late Nights & Heartbreak" zu präsentieren, dem Durchbruchsalbum von Hannah Williams & The Affirmations, auf dem der Song zu finden ist, der zum emotionalen Rückgrat von Jay-Zs wegweisendem Album ,4:44" wurde. ,Late Nights & Heartbreak" kam 2016 raus und wurde von Kritikern gelobt. Seitdem ist es ein moderner Soul-Klassiker. Sein Vermächtnis wurde besiegelt, als Jay-Z den Titelsong von ,4:44" komplett um Hannah Williams' Originalaufnahme herum aufgebaut hat. Der Song, der als unverfälschtes Geständnis der Untreue genutzt wurde, war Jay-Zs Antwort auf ,Lemonade" von seiner Frau Beyoncé und machte Hannahs unverwechselbare Stimme einem weltweiten Publikum bekannt. Aufgenommen im Quatermass Studio in London - der Heimat der Kulthelden The Heliocentrics - zeigt ,Late Nights & Heartbreak" Hannah, begleitet von ihrer neu gegründeten Band The Affirmations. Produziert wurde das Album von Malcolm Catto, der für seine Arbeit mit Künstlern wie Mulatu Astatke, Orlando Julius, Floating Points, Quantic, DJ Shadow und Madlib. Das Album wurde komplett analog gemischt und auf Band gemastert und bietet einen rohen, druckvollen und zutiefst eindringlichen Sound. Auf 13 Tracks erkundet ,Late Nights & Heartbreak" viszeralen, kraftvollen Soul mit einem subtilen psychedelischen Touch. Von der eindringlichen ersten Single ,Tame in the Water" bis zum unerbittlichen achtminütigen Groove von ,Still in My Head" zeigt das Album die schiere Kraft und Kontrolle von Hannahs Stimme in ihrer elektrisierendsten Form. ,Woman Got Soul" liefert fünf Minuten mitreißenden, kraftvollen Funk, während tiefgründigere Stücke wie ,Another Sunrise" und ,Your Luck Can Change" einen üppigen, emotionalen Hintergrund für Themen wie Liebe, Lust, Sehnsucht, Wut und Verletzlichkeit bieten. Alle Songs sind Originalkompositionen, die von dem in Bristol ansässigen Kollektiv um The Affirmations unter der Leitung von Musikdirektor James Graham geschrieben wurden - mit Ausnahme einer atemberaubenden, psychedelisch-souligen Neuinterpretation von ,Dazed and Confused", die stark von der Originalversion von Jake Holmes inspiriert ist. Hannah Williams, die schon früh von der verstorbenen Sharon Jones gesegnet wurde, eroberte 2012 mit ihrem Debütalbum ,A Hill of Feathers" die Soul-Szene. Die Single ,Work It Out" wurde ein Indie-Radiohit und ebnete den Weg für eine Karriere, die von moderner Soul-Mythologie geprägt ist. Aufgewachsen in einem musikalischen Haushalt, sang Hannah ab dem Alter von sechs Jahren im Kirchenchor und konnte Noten lesen, bevor sie richtig lesen konnte. Heute ist sie eine unaufhaltsame Kraft - eine Künstlerin mit einem seltenen Talent, wie es nur einmal in einer Generation vorkommt. Zehn Jahre später kehrt ,Late Nights & Heartbreak" in dieser speziellen Jubiläumsausgabe auf Vinyl zurück und bestätigt erneut, warum Hannah Williams & The Affirmations nach wie vor zu den kraftvollsten Stimmen des zeitgenössischen Soul gehören.

MUSIQUE POUR LA DANSE presents The Unreleased Themes From Hellraiser expanded ritual by Coil

Back in 1987, Clive Barker's supernatural body-horror classic Hellraiser hitted cinemas worldwide and introduced audiences to the demonic Cenobites. Barker was a devoted COIL fan (Peter Christopherson and John Balance), and he famously said they were the only band he'd ever heard on record whose music he'd had to take off because, in his words, "theymade his bowels churn.". He initially invited them to compose the film's music, and the group began recording cues. But the producers at New World Pictures ultimately rejected the material in favor of a more traditional approach, bringing in Christopher Young, whose final score remains excellent, if less experimental. What remains from Coil is an unfinished soundtrack with surviving fragments and rough ideas, abruptly left behind mid-process, a glimpse into an alternate Hellraiser movie, one we can only fantasize into existence.

Nearly 40 years later, key long-term collaborators and Coil's "secret third member" Danny Hyde located the original Hellraiser studio session tapes, and the bonus material recovered from them is presented here as an "expanded ritual" edition, reassembled into a standalone, possibly defnitive and strangely beautiful nightmare suite. Play it in the dark and experience the consequences of raising hell...

Notes by Danny Hyde
Original artwork by Trevor Brown
For fans of pain & pleasure, Throbbing Gristle, lost horror soundtracks & haunted electronics.

2023 Backstock

New album of one of the biggest Reggae/Dub french soundsystem starring MacGyver, Rooty Step & Pupajim (who worked with Alpha Steppa, Biga Ranx, High Tone, Mungo's Hi-Fi ...).

Since their inception at start of the 2000s, Stand High Patrol have rocked sound systems to their own riddim, assimilating and re-purposing the codes of the genre in their own unique style. From tiny bars in Brittany to huge festival stages, on independent radio or across national airwaves, the crew have quietly trod their own path, never compromising their core value of independence. Connoisseurs have long recognised Stand High’s credentials both as a dub group and a leading sound system, but they stand out from the crowd because of their ability to deliver the unexpected, whether live or on record. Their ability to draw such a diverse audience is testament to this atypical approach to making music.

In 2020, almost 20 years since their humble beginnings, the collective presents their fifth album, “Our Own Way”. As with their first two albums “Midnight Walkers” and “Matter Of Scale”, now considered as classics in their genre, this new opus asserts itself as the latest representation of the crew’s versatile approach to crafting sound. Their music, a blend of its own known as “Dubadub”, has always borrowed influences from multiple sources, and over the course of their career their roots in dub and reggae have intertwined with hip-hop, jazz, new wave, trip-hop and numerous other genres. The ‘Dubadub Musketeers’ have never ceased experimenting, forever seeking to increase the sonic territory they cover, day after day. Both live and recorded, they’ve made it a point of honour to never offer up the same thing twice. Any resemblance that “Our Own Way” might bear to those first two albums is a consequence of this obvious creative continuity, rather than of going “back to basics”.

In contrast to the last two Stand High Patrol records, the hip-hop inspired “The Shift”, or the Bristol indebted “Summer On Mars”, “Our Own Way” doesn’t have a unifying concept or theme. Rather than being limited to a single aesthetic, the LP pays respect to the entire canon of Jamaican music, all unified under Stand High’s inimitable production values. With the wealth of experience gained during the recording of their last two records, the collective decided to aim for a freer project, letting themselves be guided by their own music and their own instincts. The end result is a musical portrait of what Stand High Patrol is in the present moment.

The tracks that make up the new LP burst out of the studio, each born out of unbridled, impulsive creativity. Previously unheard compositions and specially re-tooled dub plates have been assembled into a tracklist that shifts and moves like a classic Dubadub Musketeer live set. Each step of the process has been refined by years of practice : composition, effects, and the final mix. Throughout “On Our Way”, the brutal dub stepper, though still a favourite for sound system sessions, is noticeable by its absence. Instead, it’s the full weight of the crew’s reggae heritage that’s expressed in the mix. It's not just the depth and weight of each tune that strikes the listener, but also the spaces heard between the notes that grab and hold their attention.. The sense of a trip, whether musical, internal or geographic, is omnipresent throughout the LP, linking each track to those before and after. “Our Own Way” finds Stand High Patrol exploring as usual, yet also narrating their journey as they’ve rarely done before.

Felipe Gordon is back on Shall Not Fade with his new album Tezeta and f*ck is it special.

Felipe Gordon is SNF label mainstay... (we released his triple repressed debut album "A Landscape Onomatopeya" in 2022 as well as 7 x 12" EPs on SNF over the years plus an extra 12" on Lost Palms)... so given his consistent and exceptional output on our record label you'd probably forgive some complacency with this write up, you might even afford us license to assume we're preaching to the choir and allow us to rest easy knowing that at this stage Felipe Gordon's records sell themselves.... Well none of those things are happening here because when an artist makes a record this complete, this good, you have to try to find the words. You use words like "timeless", "complete and "special". Words that can carry the weight. Because when you've listened to an album dozens of times, and not once, in any part, on any listen in any way has it fatigued you, you need to say. When a record felt so wonderfully familiar from the first listen and just kept on giving you the same feels ever since, you need to say. When a record makes you think about you how you feel about certain Air & St Germain albums (even when you know what it means to put that in a press release), you need to say. So here we are, saying these things.. Tezeta is a special record, one that exists in the rarefied air. A proper album. A record that every time you press play you will immediately remember why you own it and why you love it. A record that your subconscious will know so well that if shuffle is on you will know in an instant. An album that when it's in your collection and the first track starts you get a twinge of annoyance because you didn't listen again sooner and when the final track stops you stop too.

Given paint and a canvas we can most of us paint a picture, but only those that are gifted can paint something that makes us feel. Tezeta makes you feel. Feel familiarity when it's playing, yearning when its not, and absence when it ends. This alone would be enough to make the argument as to why this album is special and justify the gushing opening paragraph of this press release. But we're not done yet.

We don't really have a word in english for what Felipe Gordon has created with this album and how it makes you feel. "Tezeta" that word.

Tezeta is a one of four musical modes within the traditional Ethiopian modal music system known as Qiñit. Mulatu Astatke, the father of Ethio-jazz, frequently uses this mode, often translating it as "nostalgia" or "longing". Gordon says Mulatu's own tezeta recordings convey to him "feelings of melancholy and longing from a point of affection". This is exactly the feeling Gordon has captured. It is what he has woven through every recording on this album. Tezeta is the prime ingredient. It's the base note in recipe, it's sprinkled over the signature jazz-sampled house tracks. It powers the vast array of synthesizers Gordon deploys. It underpins the explorations into trip-hop. It's present in Gordon's varied vocal deliveries and it tunes his guitar. It's in the running order. It's the flow. Tezeta is tezeta in electronic music form, with 4/4, breakbeats, samples and synths.

Gordon says a big part of what differentiates this album from from his previous albums is that is was recorded in a period where he allowed himself to create music without the constraints of time or self-pressure which coincided with a moment of heavy personal growth which allowed him to reflect deeply on his work.

There is a word in Portuguese "Saudade" that Gordon says has a similar meaning to Tezeta - Saudade is defined as a deep, sometimes bittersweet, longing or nostalgia for someone or something that is absent or lost. But here at SNF we think that in Tezeta nothing has been lost. Quite the opposite. Through Felipe Gordon's artistic explorations we have all gained something very special indeed.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

Toronto’s Ducks Ltd. (formerly Ducks Unlimited), the bright jangle-pop duo of Tom McGreevy (lead vocal, guitar, bass, keyboards) and Evan Lewis (guitar, bass, drum programming), accomplish the impossible. The pair craft songs that play to very specific inspirations without drowning underneath them—immediately evidenced on their critically acclaimed EP, Get Bleak, and sharpened on Modern Fiction, their debut LP. “The Servants, The Clean, The Chills, The Bats, Television Personalities, Felt,” Evan rattles off. “Look Blue Go Purple is one I reference a lot with our production.” Echoes of ‘80s indiepop abound, but they never overwhelm. This is not a nostalgic record, after all, nor is it a derivative one. Instead, across 10 cheery-sounding songs, Ducks Ltd. explore contemporary society in decline, examining large scale human disaster through personal turmoil (hence the title, taken from a university course called Gnosticism and Nihilism in Modern Fiction, influenced by Graham Greene novels. Bookish indie fans, look no further.)

Writing the album was intimate. Tom drafted the nucleus of a song on an unplugged electric guitar and brought it over to Evan’s apartment, where the pair sat in his bedroom, placing percussive beats from a drum machine under nascent melodies, passing a bass back and forth, adding organs and bridges where necessary. “It’s computer music trying extremely hard not to sound like computer music,” Tom jokes. Fearful that limited and expensive studio time would kneecap the project creatively, eroding their charming naivete, the pair re-recorded the album in a storage space owned by Evan’s boss. Ornamentation through collaboration followed: there’s Aaron Goldstein on Pedal Steel in the Go-Betweens’ “Cattle and Cane”-channeling interlude “Patience Wearing Thin,” Eliza Niemi on cello (“18 Cigarettes,” a song loosely inspired by a 1997 Oasis performance of “Don’t Go Away”), and backing harmonies from Carpark labelmates The Beths (on an ode to friendship at a distance, “How Lonely Are You?,” “Always There,” and on the sped-up Syd Barrett stylings of “Under The Rolling Moon.”) While in his native Australia due to covid-19, Evan worked closely with producer James Cecil (The Goon Sax, Architecture in Helsinki) on Modern Fiction’s finishing touches—at one point, in the mountains of the Macedon Ranges in Victoria, recorded a string quartet (featured on “Fit to Burst,” “Always There,” “Sullen Leering Hope,” “Twere Ever Thus,” “Grand Final Day.”)

It’s danceable, depressive fun, with some relief: in “Always There” and “Sullen Leering Hope,” Modern Fiction’s faithful heart. “There’s a tendency in my writing, because of my world view, to be very bleak.” Tom explains. “A quality I don’t always see in myself and really appreciate in others is the courage to go on.” And yet, the record manages resiliency—enough for pop fans to fall in love with.

"I got to know visual artist, musician, and producer Guido Erfen and sound engineer, acoustic artist, and percussionist Michael Springer as part of a group of five by the name of SHM1. The members of the group organised concerts at Rhenania, a disused grain silo, where I performed with The Absurd in 1988 and 1989. The band was also featured on one of Erfen's tape releases. Erfen and Springer met when they were still at the same secondary school and soon became close friends and musical allies. With the other members of SHM they built an independent network for creating and distributing music beyond the mainstream in Cologne. Rent at Rhenania was incredibly low, allowing a recording studio to be established there.

The first traces of the Ukrainian Underground arrived at Erfen's door via a cassette tape with three bands from Kharkiv and Kyiv, the package including a long essay which detailed the rock scene in the two cities by Sergey Myasoyedow. In 1986, Myasoyedow, together with Sasha Panchenko, had founded the “Novaya Scena“ rock club in Kharkiv, presenting bands inspired by punk, the avant-garde, dadaism, and even medieval melodies. If Erfen hadn't been part of the independent mail-art scene, he wouldn't have had the chance to discover this unorthodox music. It was the summer of 1990, shortly before the Soviet Union collapsed and Ukraine became an independent state the following year.

In 1991, singer and keyboard player Soloveyka from Kharkiv arrived in Cologne and gave Erfen half a dozen cassettes with underground bands from Ukraine and a handful with bands from the Soviet Union. Intrigued by the original music of many of the acts, he visited Ukraine twice, made friends there, compiled a tape with his favourite tracks and finally succeeded in convincing Hamburg label boss Alfred Hilsberg to present underground music from Ukraine on the CD “Novaya Scena“ via his label What's So Funny About (the original home of Einstürzende Neubauten).
The album compiled 20 tracks recorded between 1986 and 1992 by 14 bands out of Kharkiv and Kyiv– music beyond the usual Perestroika records, often with jarring dissonances over grooves that fans of Captain Beefheart or The Fall would certainly enjoy.

On the other hand, there are tracks featuring flute and trumpet that seem inspired by folk, classical music, and punk. Ghostly chamber prog miniatures by Cukor Belaya Smert (lit. Sugar White Death) from Kyiv featuring, among others, the classically trained pianist and singer Svitlana Nianio (née Ochrimenko) and guitarist, visual artist, and spokesman Yewgeny "Yenia" Taran. Nianio sang in her native Ukrainian, as did two more of the bands. Today, this seems more relevant than ever, more culturally and historically significant from a Ukrainian point of view than it was even in 1993. Young Ukrainians were amazed at that time that rock music sung in their native tongue could work!

It is in the aftermath of the “Novaya Scena“ album that the music on this LP was created. About a year after the release of the CD in August 1993, Nianio and Taran came to Cologne to work on music for the dance production "Transilvania Smile" by the dance theatre ensemble Pentamonia2.
The seeds for the Traces of Ukrainian Underground in Cologne were sown. Starting in 1994, a series of informal recording sessions took place at Michael Springer’s Phanton Studio and at SHM studio in Rhenania. Together, these sessions formed the basis of the four different incarnations of the Ukraine-Cologne connection heard on STROOMS’s compilation.

STRICTLY LIMITED TO 100 COPIES ARTIST PROJECT After discovering techno at La Concrète, invited by my girlfriend, it was a revelation, and I very quickly felt the urge to contribute in my own way. My intention has been to create tracks infused with positive energy (even if the creative process sometimes leads into slightly darker corners of music). Still, I realized—rather late—the importance of the musical genre known as “techno.” Here is my reflection on it: Nothing is closer to village music (with everything that implies among indigenous peoples, for example—important and respected moments of communion) than techno. On one side, you have basic organic instruments and the voice; on the other, the most advanced technology available. But fundamentally, the difference is only superficial—the essence is the same: a guide, and people who participate intuitively, ultimately finding or discovering their own inner paths… individuation. Techno represents the re-emergence of a kind of initiation rite that had been missing in the West for quite some time—a sort of continuation of Woodstock, more spread out over time but just as powerful from a societal perspective. This release is my contribution to that revival, in the same way a villager might feel free to join trance music with a simple stick that sounds right, or a drum—something intuitive that all our ancestors must have practiced naturally at one point or another. In short, nothing pretentious—just something made with heart

Hit the North is a DJs’ movement
Not a label. Not a revival. A discipline.

Over the years, the collective travelled across multiple states in the US and parts of the UK, digging deep into private collections, basements, garages, storage rooms and forgotten boxes.

They weren’t looking for classics.
They weren’t looking for hits.
They were looking for attempts.

Artists chasing something bigger than themselves.
Trying to sound like Motown.
Trying to sound like Detroit.
Trying to sound like the records that saved them.

Many of them dreamed — at best — of becoming a one hit wonder.
Most never got that far.

Some never crossed a state line.
Some never crossed the street at the end of their block.
Some never played outside their hometown.
Some never played at all.

What they left behind were fragments.

Raw versions.
Unfinished recordings.
Alternate takes.
Rejected mixes.
Test pressings.
Acetates passed quietly from hand to hand.

Sometimes with real credits.
Sometimes with fake ones.
Sometimes with handwritten labels leading nowhere.
Titles that didn’t match the music.
Stories that changed every time you asked.

Often, the trail simply disappeared.

What remained was intention.

Energy.
Urgency.
Hope pressed into sound.

So the collective worked on it.

They edited certain parts.
Extended others.
Cut what didn’t serve the floor.

Not to modernise.
Not to rewrite history.
But to unlock the power that was already there.

The result sounds like Northern Soul pushed to its breaking point.
Fast. Physical. Emotional.
Built for movement.

Some circulated privately.
Others were never pressed at all.

Recorded in personal studios, borrowed studios, friends’ rooms, temporary spaces.
Always outside the system.

This is not nostalgia.
This is unfinished business.

Mean Field Mutation is a thermodynamic phenomenon occurring just below the vaporization point of voracious growth. It relies on the debris of false and almost forgotten narratives. Astral residue of consumer angst, echoes of obsolete newspeak and oscillations of promotional imbecilities collide with free floating particles hovering under the radar of the megamachine. In steady intervals, this results in a meltdown producing random waves of reconfigurations driven by cryptic but sanguine naivety.
Released on Lustpoderosa, Mean Field Mutation is the first musical output by Des Coda. Written and produced by Piero Scherer during the pandemic winter of 2021 in his bedroom studio in Zurich. Moving between playful
serenity and feral distortion, it was produced by layering sounds from field recordings, radio and TV clips, as wellas sequences from drum machines and analogue synthesizers. Taking a stance against commercial copyright, all stems of this production are available for download free of charge and ready to be reappropriated.
Des Coda is an open field for collaborative, cultural experiments beyond the conventional understanding of authorship and representation. It engages with an artistic position that defines the creative process as an interplay between context and concept. The resulting work is not a rigid product of authoritarian ingenuity, but a sensitive, living organism guided by the tensions between society and individual. Des Coda is the zestful curiosity rummaging through the rubble of the present in search of future aesthetics.

No filler, no detours, just floor-focused disco from Berlin's Delfonic, who is always on point. 'Welcome Black' wastes no time snapping into action with driving drums, elastic bass and bright string stabs that demand full body movement. 'Dancing Facts' keeps it lean and punch with vocals and tight percussion, doing exactly what's required. Flip it over and 'Got To Know Your Body' rolls out classic disco funk, warm chords and a flash of soulful heat cutting through the groove. 'FM4 Me' goes deeper, chugging rhythm and filtered synth lines primed for locked-in, late-night sessions. Functional, effective and quality as ever from Delfonic.

At the core of the creative process behind “HPC” and “Bor3d” lies meta-irony, a quality that permeates much of today’s digital content landscape.

Both tracks are a deliberate attempt to push the sound toward a barely perceptible absurdity and ironic unseriousness in their interpretation of well-familiar styles of dance club music. It is a play with form, expectation, and recognizability — balancing sincerity with sarcastic exaggeration.

Okay
Okay is built around interruption. Voices, fragments of dialogue, yawns, irritation — people seem to step inside the track uninvited. Someone is bored, someone is annoyed, someone tries to stop the flow entirely. Just like in real life, the process is constantly disrupted. The track reflects the experience of being surrounded by opinions, noise, and skepticism — especially the kind that will never be convinced, no matter what you do. “Okay” becomes a quiet, ironic response to this pressure: not agreement, not approval, but endurance. The track continues anyway.

Tripatura
Tripatura is a fictional creature — a warped echo of cryptid mythology. In this narrative, Tripatura doesn’t simply exist, it hunts. Once it finds you, it drags you into an endless trip with no exit point. Time stretches, perception blurs, and the track itself becomes the trap. Its prolonged, unresolved ending mirrors the experience of being stuck inside a loop that refuses closure. Tripatura doesn’t rush. It lingers, slowly pulling you deeper, until the trip no longer feels temporary.

Bliss Point is proud to welcome the Bogotá born, New York based Matük to the label with Sendero, a collection dripping with life, with lust, with joy in the face of it all.

Birthed from weekend-long studio sessions in the heat of New York summer, Sendero is luscious and visceral party music, crackling with the spontaneous possibility that runs through city streets as temperatures peak, asses throw and emotions run high.

Hailing from Colombia and deeply immersed in the New York underground, Matük’s influences collide into an ecstatic tapestry on Sendero, blending the rich traditions of Afro-Caribbean musics with experimental and club sonics, long the sounds of joy as defiance from deep within the imperial core.

Many paths cross on Sendero. “Ricotta” features vocals from BRAVA, the Basque DJ and MC whose raw, infectious spirit has injected new energy into the international bass and footwork scene. She is joined by Argentinian-Colombian artist FEDRA on synth and vocals, transforming voice notes the trio sung into their phones over a long weekend of dancing into a party anthem of their own. “Lio”, the EP opener, pairs Mexico’s Renn Loop with Matük himself, trading sultry, heated frustrations over latinx futurist production. Things slow down on “De; Dioses y Pantallas”, a yearning, introspective plea to the night sky, before returning to the party with the bouncing, acid-fueled remix of “Ricotta” from Mexico City’s Soos.

Sendero is a snapshot of a scene in motion, a document of serendipity and collaboration, music made in the long tradition of enjoyment as a revolutionary act.

Erstauflage als "Sparkle Starlight Vinyl" 2LP mit Etching auf der vierten Seite. Im technischen Sinne war jedes bisherige Album des französischen Trios SLIFT eine Fantasie - ein Mix aus Genres und Formen, der es der Band ermöglichte, zu improvisieren und so lange zu jammen, bis sie sich scheinbar gemeinsam ins All zu winden schienen. Ihr gefeiertes drittes Album, "Ilion" aus dem Jahr 2024, war eine Science-Fiction-Geschichte, aufgebaut aus 10- bis 13-minütigen explorativen Eskapaden, die oft mit Doom Metal oder Stoner Rock begannen, bevor sie sich frei in glorreiche instrumentale Vergessenheit drehten. Doch mit einer gewissen absichtlichen Ironie heißt SLIFTs viertes Album tatsächlich "Fantasia". Es ist ihr bisher schlankstes und direktestes Album. Es ist auch ihr bisher fesselndstes Album, eine pointierte Saga über die Überwindung internationaler Umbrüche, vorgetragen von einer Band, die mit voller Kraft vorangeht und dabei keine einzige Sekunde verschwendet. Obwohl nur Jean und Bassist Rémi Fossat verwandt sind, ist SLIFT im Grunde eine Band von Brüdern. Mit Schlagzeuger Canek Flores sind sie schon seit der Highschool befreundet, und 2026 markiert ein Jahrzehnt zusammen in diesem Trio. Sie proben mit religiöser Regelmäßigkeit in einem Keller auf dem Land in der Nähe von Toulouse, in dem Jam-Raum, in dem sie schon lange ihrer Vorliebe für langatmige Wunder frönen. Für die Albumaufnahmen zu "Fantasia" überquerten sie die französische Nordgrenze nach Belgien, um in dem riesigen Live-Raum der Daft Studios ein kompaktes Set aus schlanken, agilen und druckvollen Songs aufzunehmen. Die vielfältigen Einflüsse der Band sind offensichtlich: Das Album erinnert an Clutch in voller Wildheit, John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, den sowjetischen Schriftsteller Michail Bulgakow, Pink Floyd und Black Sabbath aus der "Master of Reality"-Ära. Und das klangliche Gewebe wird durch das gekonnte Mixing von Kurt Ballou (Converge, Cave In, High on Fire) unterstützt. Den Songs fehlt es nicht an der Komplexität oder Intensität, die SLIFT zu einem aufstrebenden Star der Heavy-Musik gemacht haben; sie haben einfach neue Wege gefunden, die Komplexität ihrer Vergangenheit in jedes Stück einzuflechten, wie ein Wandteppich, der jedes Mal, wenn man hinschaut, eine neue Ebene offenbart. Damit vermitteln sie eine bestätigende und dringliche Botschaft: Gemeinsam können wir die Zeiten, in denen wir leben, noch immer verändern. Heutzutage ist es furchtbar leicht, sich machtlos zu fühlen. SLIFT setzt sich auf "Fantasia" direkt mit dem modernen Ansturm von Grausamkeit und Absurdität auseinander, sei es die Gleichgültigkeit gegenüber unserem Heimatplaneten oder zueinander. Aber in diesen acht Songs geht es darum, auf eine verborgene Kraft zu vertrauen, um zurückzuschlagen, um an eine Welt zu glauben, in der etwas, das wir noch nicht in Worte fassen oder definieren können, nicht nur einen Weg bietet, den Status quo zu durchbrechen, sondern ihn vielleicht sogar vollständig zu zerstören. SLIFT sind laut, heavy und aggressiv in diesen Hymnen. Sie bereiten sich auf einen Kampf vor, von dem sie glauben, dass wir ihn noch gewinnen können.

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.

Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.

With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.

Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).

The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)