quête:ponder

Bobby's 2019 tour ended in New York City and he had two days off before flying home to Finland. Leon invited him to the Diamond Mine to record some music. Bobby had been talking about wanting to stretch out lyrically and write about more esoteric subject matter, Leon was game. They recorded "Reasons" in one session which put the chemistry between the two on the world stage and sparked the idea of doing a full length album together. More than halfway through the recording process, they have decided to treat us to another two-sider of the new material. On the A side, "Whatcha Know" Bobby explores death and the human experience, putting his philosophical ponderings into his music. Michels' production and overall ethos is the perfect complement to Bobby's desire to stretch out his sound. EMA provides a gorgeous backing track that compliments Bobby's style and simultaneously broadens its scope. The B side "Losing It" is a dramatic and moving number that Bobby sings in Spanish and English. A gorgeous guitar riff is countered with eerie sound effects that crescendo when the drums come in. Bobby professes he's "Losing It" over a love too strong and El Michels Affair's production turns the whole affair into a saga that thunders through speakers.

Lost soul phenomenon Lewis Taylor's Numb finally arrives on double vinyl! One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, most enigmatic figures and most under-appreciated talents, Andrew Lewis Taylor is a prodigious multi-instrumentalist and eclectic polymath. He enjoys a fiercely loyal following which, over the years, has included celebrity champions like Bowie, Elton and D'Angelo. Numb is Taylor's sixth album, initially released on his own label Slow Reality (an anagram of his name) and licensed to Be With for this long-awaited physical edition. It captures Taylor's wholly unique, intoxicating take on lush, late-night psychedelic soul music.

Lewis wrote and recorded these 10 brand new tracks after a 17 year break from making music, although the album came together over a two-year period. The years away have done nothing to dull Taylor's unique musical vision. He still astounds. The lyrical themes, however, have shifted. Understandably, more than a decade and a half of soul searching and unflinching self-examination cannot fail to influence this most honest of songwriters, and boy does it show. Numb marks a return to the darker, more mysterious side of his output: "Brian Wilson-channels-Smokey Robinson atmospheres", as Mojo put it recently.

After playing a rapturously received gig at the Bowery Ballroom in NYC in 2006, Lewis unceremoniously walked away from music and disappeared completely. An interview in 2016 shed light on some of the reasons for Taylor’s withdrawal from the business, but there was no hint of a return anytime soon. Then in June 2021, news emerged out of the blue that he was readying new music alongside Sabina Smyth with whom he had worked first time around.

On Numb, Lewis deftly balances stark, soul-bearing lyrics with moody mid-tempo pop-soul sheen. He deals candidly with depression, mental turmoil, even thoughts of suicide - clearly more personal than Taylor's earlier songs. The music is rich, warm and layered, with infectious melodies and hooks that stick with you. A true grower of an LP, it really does reward repeated listens. As Jim Irvin in Mojo reflected, "despite the depths these plumb, it's a curiously uplifting experience, unfurling like a concept album about life's challenges with an optimistic beauty at its heart."

Triumphant dubwise horns ring out yet, almost instantly, “Final Hour” takes on a dark, downbeat vibe. With lyrics that confront (and, seemingly, confound) death head-on, Lewis ensures the groove is still there, the beats still swing and your head still nods, strings glissade. Woven around delicate yet insistent piano and subtle strings over a killer bassline, the title track “Numb” is a good example of the lyrical themes throughout the album. As Taylor reflects, "So removed I feel no pain / And for all I know I could be having the time of my life" with a coda that feels very much in conversation with Brian Wilson's finest harmonies. "Feels So Good" is sophisticated 90s-sounding soul of the highest order. The music and vocals feel simultaneously optimistic and despondent. Downlifting. A neat trick, and one Lewis has been so adept at over the years. "Apathy" is a mini-epic, a symphonic-soul gem which builds and glides and, eventually, soars. “Worried Mind" is another slow-builder, creeping out the gate in a sketchy, discordant fashion before climbing to half-crescendo but never quite breaking free of its disorientating restraint.

The brighter "Please" presents a more hopeful mood, with the refrain "I still believe" ringing out as Lewis harmonises with himself. "Brave Heart" quietly struts from step one, as Lewis's falsetto swaggers over a downtempo backdrop with ace echoey drums, beautiful strings and serene electric guitar. Closing out Side C, "Is It Cool" answers its own (non-) question with a spellbinding five and a half minutes of swoonsome deep soul that oscillates between a restrained, barely-there backdrop and a lushly full musical accompaniment of acoustic and electric guitar and organ over bass and slick drums. The penultimate track "Nearer" is a magical, soul-stirring ballad in which Lewis sings of reaching a sweet salvation and achieving a peace of mind. If the hairs on the back of your neck aren't standing up by the midway point, you might need to check your pulse. Album closer and true tear-jerker "Being Broken" places Lewis's gorgeous voice high in the mix and the wordless falsetto and melodies invite you to ponder what Pet Sounds might sound like if it were refashioned as a dubby 21st Century electronic soul album. Astonishing.

Simon Francis’s vinyl mastering spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so, as ever, nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Cicely Balston at Air Studios and pressed at Record Industry. Turn it up and let the Lewis Taylor sound envelop you.

On Underwater, Elephant Gym's latest release and second full-length,
there was no single composer overseeing the record - To the end of
unlocking new sounds for themselves, each member took turns leading
production and compositional roles during the creation of the album
The result is an expansive cohesion of diverse songs which flow in and out of one
another like water. Vocal cameos by international collaborators provide another
compelling dimension to the record, emboldening a group usually known for their
instrumental compositions.
The band explains that "Underwater is an idea about a kind of private, mysterious
space." It's a place where one may go to ponder or concentrate, to clear one's
head, or to just blow off some steam in solitude. So, too, is Underwater
fundamentally about immersion: immersion in the chaos of feeling, living in the
throes of being human-sized in the infinite expanse of existence.













m Midway [Rgry Remix]

This 45 features two new artists from the ever-expanding Colemine universe: Pale Jay, a budding artist, and Steve Okonski (as Okonski) of Durand Jones and the Indications. The A-side is a collaboration between the two artists. By The Lake is a Neo Soul flip of the Okonski piano tune that's poignant and upbeat at the same time. The lyrics come from a conversation that Pale Jay had recently with a close friend who was pondering moving to a new city to pursue a budding love affair, but ultimately chose to stay put because they had not overcome an old heart break. When he heard Okinski's song, Runner Up, from his upcoming album, he immediately latched onto the lingering feeling of speaking to his friend and wrote By The Lake in the next thirty minutes after chopping up Okonski's piano samples. The B-side, Runner Up, features the original track by Okonski. Recorded at the Colemine HQ in Loveland, OH, Runner Up exhibits a triumphant yet melancholic melody in the piano that leads to a more reserved Bsection driven by the drums and bass of Aaron Frazer and Michael Isvara "Ish" Montgomery.

A self- described "semi- professional" musician since he was 14, Barna played drums for Deaf West Theatre's Los Angeles production of Spring Awakening and on the national Broadway tour for The Producers, but it took a trip to Berlin's Club Legarré, and its English-speaking open mic, to find his own voice as a songwriter and performer. His new album is a collection of stories, vulnerable and
openhearted, of his New York. In his words, "It's a character study of the bar itself.

It's a safe space, but there's alcohol, drugs, sadness, and your own demons."

Recorded in Rochester, Seán wrote late into the night as producer (producer!) and his kids slept. Moving fast, Macri Park became the center of a song cycle documenting giddiness, grief, history, and everything in- between. He enlisted friends, including Counting Crows' Adam Duritz and David Immerglück, harpist and songwriter Mikaela Davis, Danielle Ponder, and Maria Taylor, to bring his world to life.

RESOUND NYC - Das neue Album von MOBY! Nach seinem gefeierten Album ”Reprise” (Mai 2021), auf dem unter anderem Kris Kristofferson, Mark Lanegan, Jim James und Skylar Grey zu hören waren, hat Moby nun 15 seiner legendärsten New Yorker Tracks aus den Jahren 1994 bis 2010 neu interpretiert und instrumentiert. Mobys 20. Studioalbum ist nicht nur eine Reflexion über die vielleicht entscheidendste Zeit in seinem Leben, sondern auch über sein einstiges Zuhause, New York City. Dort wurde er geboren, dort nahm seine Karriere ihren Anfang – im Punkrock und als DJ in Underground-Clubs.
»Bevor ich Punkrock für mich entdeckte, war ich im Classic Rock zu Hause«, sagt Moby. »Mein erstes Konzert war 1978 Yes im Madison Square Garden. Es war also mehr als verlockend, sich noch einmal mit meinen Liedern auseinanderzusetzen und zu gucken, ob sie einer traditionelleren, nicht-elektronischen, orchestralen Bearbeitung standhalten.« Begleitet wird Moby auf diesem Album von großartigen Künstlern wie Nicole Scherzinger, Gregory Porter, Ricky Wilson und Amythyst Kiah.

RESOUND NYC - Das neue Album von MOBY! Nach seinem gefeierten Album ”Reprise” (Mai 2021), auf dem unter anderem Kris Kristofferson, Mark Lanegan, Jim James und Skylar Grey zu hören waren, hat Moby nun 15 seiner legendärsten New Yorker Tracks aus den Jahren 1994 bis 2010 neu interpretiert und instrumentiert. Mobys 20. Studioalbum ist nicht nur eine Reflexion über die vielleicht entscheidendste Zeit in seinem Leben, sondern auch über sein einstiges Zuhause, New York City. Dort wurde er geboren, dort nahm seine Karriere ihren Anfang – im Punkrock und als DJ in Underground-Clubs.
»Bevor ich Punkrock für mich entdeckte, war ich im Classic Rock zu Hause«, sagt Moby. »Mein erstes Konzert war 1978 Yes im Madison Square Garden. Es war also mehr als verlockend, sich noch einmal mit meinen Liedern auseinanderzusetzen und zu gucken, ob sie einer traditionelleren, nicht-elektronischen, orchestralen Bearbeitung standhalten.« Begleitet wird Moby auf diesem Album von großartigen Künstlern wie Nicole Scherzinger, Gregory Porter, Ricky Wilson und Amythyst Kiah.

The duo WILDES from the south of Germany, consisting of Jana Pantha and Jenny Tulipa, presents a musical mix of electro-synth-pop, post-punk and dark disco influences. After the release of their first EP “RAWWR” in 2021, their debut album entitled “KLISCHEE” will be released on 3 February 2023. Released via the Kommando 84 label, the album features 11 songs and a musical re-interpretation of German-language Neue Deutsche Welle sounds. The songs combine spoken word passages in which the singers combine a certain irony with word-playful rhymes. In addition to world-political, social issues, the songs revolve around the complexity of the new romance in love - between cosmos and stereo. The strong and experimentally avant-garde lyrics accompany the danceable pulse of the drum computer, melodic synth waves and the shimmering solos of the lead guitar.

The album “Klischee” begins with an electro-pop track that combines consistent grooves with atmo- spheric sound arrangements and a lead guitar that accompanies our journey to the moon. With the chorus’ high-pitched words, „Konsum - leg mich auf den Moon“ (“Consumption - put me on the Moon”), WILDES dryly yet humorously allude to a society that couldn’t fly “higher”.

The following cheeky song Leger in Schwarz combines impeccable post punk with influences from the NNDW scene. A short love story led by the electronic beat of the synthesizer makes the hearts of the night beat faster. With casual reduction, a guitar riff leads through the song. The guitar solo finally rounds off the plea about the longing for a good flirt.

Italo disco shimmers and pulsates on the driving song Capri. With lyrics like “Pack the boats - Vai a bordo”, Capri is a homage to the tried and tested Italo feeling with a cappucino on the terrazza, or indeed on the yacht with a view of the rocky walls of the island. An electric charge of sequencers and synth tracks acts here as a lightness of being in contrast to the porosity of the rock.

An electrifying electric guitar solo kicks off the fourth track with a mysterious invitation to Steig ein translated, get in. Hypnotised by the lights of the road, dazzled in the side mirror, a clearly repeating rhythm leads into the chorus and through the coming verses. English spoken-word lyrics add to the stoicism of the German language. The song’s great power ends with the line Lost in the dark, holding open the finale of the “Night Drive” encounter.

Digital and stereo on all channels, the distinctly tight and robust rhythm sounds in the song Apparat. A clear and simple synth melody is heard as a contrast and the electric bass gives the balance of the machine at points. Hiddenly, WILDES points here to the superior power that can control human action beyond all limits. A piece as a laudation to all the science fiction novels that play with the switching of the individual parts.

Side One of the vinyl is finalised by a song called La Grande Bellezza that motivates to dance and sing along. The punky pop craft lives through the recurring beat of the rhythm guitar. Here the focus is on the woman in all her facets. The great beauty, una donna, who can do everything as well as wanting everything and nothing...a strong woman who, however, also staggers and wants to jump off the cliff. Clearly and distinctly, the musical accompaniment of the drum machine and the accompanying synth melody reflect hidden parallel worlds and the ambiguity of character - of life? We get a desire for more and turn the round record.

The B side starts with a powerful guitar riff, complemented by a catchy and strong bassline that runs through the song. In this work, WILDES provocatively describes the West’s lust for the much-cov- eted Schwarzes Gold black gold. The song is reminiscent of the works of the band D.A.F. and thus ties in with the electronic punk sound spate.

The driving guitar riff joins in with the reduced synth bass sequence - the electro-pop song with the title Hitze (Heat) came onto the digital music market as the first single from the LP in the summer of 2022. Pulsatingly, the drum computer lets the beats vibrate to the rhythm of heated air. The duo po- etically describes heat with supercooled voices, a clarity in the sky that makes everything flow, that makes the breath dry. The work ends with a melodic synth solo.

Ich lad dich ein, I invite you - we have all said or heard this sentence before. A chance meeting of two people later leads to the altar in love. A far-reaching question that more or less arises in many love relationships at some point “Do you dare?” positions itself in lyrical contrast to the simple ques- tion in the refrain “Do you need sugar?”. WILDES plays with laconic poetry and, full of irony, makes the listeners think about living together. Krautrock contours are skilfully used in this piece. Reduced to the essentials, the chorus immediately sticks in the ear. A cheerful mix of steel drums and infec- tious solo.

Toccami - touch me! We sit on padded leather chairs - “you’re a rocket! Peng Puff Peng” - this song by the band WILDES joins experimental art-punk-pop, electronically with flowing synth waves we take off immediately. Melodically sung, lyrical layers of lyrics dance loosely light and gracefully in the ears of the viewer. The rhythmic beat visualises the feeling of floating in a spaceship. It’s love in the universe - “I love you, my darling” sounds tipsy in the beat-heavy disco refrain.

Hypnotically, WILDES launches into the final song of the entire LP. The title Zone takes us on a journey through time. Inspired by the film Stalker, we find ourselves in a science fiction setting that couldn’t be more present in today’s European events. The musicality of the electric guitar riffs ac- companied by simple new wave drums drives the listener into unknown realms.

Repetition and electronic synth sounds play a compositional role alongside rocking guitar riffs like their forerunners in the NDW scene. Lyrically, each song varies between pop-romantic and politically critical passages. Listeners start pondering about hedonistic life and its consequences. Sometimes it feels like listening to a Tarantino soundtrack in German, other times it feels like listening to an 80s track by a James Bond. Science fiction fantasies and reality add up in dadaistic theatricality to spir- ited synthpunk of the New German Wave from the South. Discoid beats and driving drums in digital are included.

The beautifully executed Sandman repress has some perfectly executed remixes, from some of the most talented and capable artists in the industry - and they need to be because Psychosis is a musically superior track to many of its peers, both past and present.

New Decade brings a solid toughness and perfect production on his remix, while Innercore blends his classic credentials with a more modern sound. Meanwhile, KFA regular Ponder changes it up with a d'n'b style workout. But each remix stands proud and alone, and will devastate any dancefloor!

A year and a half ago, THE MFA returned to the fore once more, when we released their "Oranges and Lemons EP".

Their new album, “Lights Out”, which could be described as a long time coming, is definitely THE MFA’s most ambitious work to date.

As they put it in their own words: “The album is very special to us. It’s a long ambition brought to fruition. It’s an album that is at home on the dancefloor or at home. We’ve always been influenced by 90s rave culture and the club scene of that era and the explosion of creative freedom through electronic music that happened back then.”

The album sums up what THE MFA stands for; their love of electronic music intertwined their love of songs and melody, sometimes banging, sometimes pensive, sometimes longing, occasionally up-beat and happy. Melodic techno-pop-rave then.

The album opener "My Desire" pins down the essence of the album, showing some pop sensibility and a healthy dose of that early 90s spirit with longing vocals by Rhys Evans. The track shows from many angles of the intensity of what club culture was about. The track has, for sure, that pop quality which sets it apart - it is a very complete and rounded and in the true sense, a hit.

"Identify This" kicks off with blissed-out sci-fi sounds but commences with 90s rave chords that gets under your skin and creates a fantastic kaleidoscopic picture of moody UK rave with these spurts of emotional uplifting moments which are worth every penny.

"Bear Likes To Rave" takes us back to the warehouse days and reminds us of the acid warehouse parties with fanned stroboscope beams and dry ice cannons. It’s like looking down on a rave party happening from above, from a bird's eye view, which is in full swing where the euphoria spills over into the audience. "Girl Ahead" is a vocal track exclusively on the digital version of the album, again with Rhys Evans on vocal duties. Here they ponder all the possibilities of the future and the mistakes of the past. Features space toms and grand piano rave chords to evoke a housy feel within.

With "Freedom24" a Hi-NRG melody meets nightcrawler sounds ala "Klang De Familie". This is a soundtrack for the night.

"Lammas Day" has the chilling exotic quality of 808 State "Pacific State" if you grant us this comparison, paired with some phantastic Dr Who sensibilities! This track is quite a voyage!

"Warehouse"... Make Some F-...ing Noise... A TV presenter speaks about Acid house...... This is a wild mash up of impressions which nicely go together due to the melodic string composition and the 303 sequences.

"The Snapping Branch" starts with a mash up of sounds and then dives into an episodic snapshot of "happiness" when the serotonin shoots in (just before it drops). Experiencing a perfect flow that does not want to end. Every clubber knows that feeling.

"You Make Me Smile" is the third vocal track on the album featuring Rhys Evans on vocals. It has fantastic radical stark mood changes and blatant shifts, therefore throws the listener from one corner to the other. Just like the contrast of day and night. Bits here and there might conjure a Radiohead spirit, but really this is all MFA.

"Lights Out” certainly puts across the feeling you get at the end of the night - the club has closed; you are walking home. These are the sounds and feelings in your memories as you chase the vibe that is dwindling as the club becomes ever further away.

If there is a space in this place for a voice of this age, it’s still sealed in wax. Above the din of the noise a vocal appears, in calm
reflection, it delivers a message of hope in a time of despair. Ivan Ave is back. A lot has transpired since we last heard him on a
full-length project, there's a lot to ponder as we get into his latest LP, All Season Gear.
On his 4th solo album, Ivan offers a glimpse into the various seasons he and his friends went through in the last three years. All
Season Gear was recorded on highs and lows through a pandemic, through healing, falling in love and observing the chaos that
is the hyper-textual information age. Lyrically an all-weather-proof record, breaking even with with a joie de vivre, backed by
production from the likes of Sasac, Mndsgn, Like, DJ Harrison and Ivan Ave himself.
The Norwegian rapper’s sixth solo release percolates between desperation and buoyancy, through a tide of beats, as Ivan taps
into his signature observations. His lyrics are an astute surveillance that exploit the mundane in a pensive exploration, touching
on hedonistic heights, with a constant focus on the beauty of the everyday.
The Mutual Intentions mouthpiece breezes through a record of wistful sonorities brought together by the larger Mutual intentions
collaboration. Keys swell and bass undulates, as the production convene on vintage aesthetics, repurposed for air-pod traveling.
It extends the sonic palette of his last LP, Double Goodbyes, and plunges the sound deeper than ever before.
Ivan Ave reinforces our vision of him as a voice for our time. A philosopher’s touch-stone in a world where the incongruous prevails over the sincere.

When the pandemic hit, Hannah van Loon adopted a dog named Gizmo, who became a much-needed companion while the Bay Area musician wrote her second album as Tanukichan. Aptly Named after her new four-legged friend, GIZMO is an exercise in release, whether from situational hindrances—a forced lockdown, for one—or from self-imposed hedonistic coping mechanisms.“ A theme I always had floating around was escape,” van Loon explains of her follow-up to 2018’s Sundays. “Escaping from myself, my problems, sadness and cycles.”

To channel the more uplifting spirit she wanted for GIZMO, van Loon turned to the radio pop-rock of her childhood: “I was struck by the in-your-face positivity of the lyrics,” she adds,referencing artists like 311, The Cranberries, and Tom Petty. “I wanted to bring that positivity while writing about the sad and helpless emotions I’d been grappling with.” But GIZMO’s lightheartedness doesn’t make it shallow: “I think that I could let it go, as beautiful as snow,” she murmurs on “Don’t Give Up,” a nu metal-meets-Cocteau Twins groove about the sudden awareness that all the relationships you depend on could vanish instantaneously. Van Loon’s main collaborator on GIZMO was Toro y Moi’s Chaz Bear, and the jangly pop earworm “Take Care” showcases the heavily distorted, in-your-face guitar work reminiscent of Bear’s own psych joints What For? And Mahal. On the hypnotic, wall-of-sound-rocker “Thin Air” featuring Enumclaw, van Loon channels the triumphant grit of The Smashing Pumpkins as she ponders the impermanence of even the most impactful relationships: “I’ll always have the memories/Of how you used to make me see/Until they fell in the ocean/They’re not swimming/They’re not floating.”

Existentialism aside, GIZMO also sees van Loon break out of her sonic comfort zone. “One ofthe main changes of how I’m approaching music now is that I want to have more fun in the process,” she says, and she walks the line between melodrama and whimsy gracefully: “I can learn something because I’ve been here before,” she sings on the soaring, bittersweet “Been Here Before.” Deftones-inspired thrash drums and screeching electric guitars are gracefully contrasted with van Loon’s hypnotic, almost deadpan vocal style and a crystal clear acoustic guitar she describes as “cute.” Gizmo the dog suddenly passed away right as van Loon finished the album, but he’s immortalised with his photo on the cover—a fitting emblem of this new era of Tanukichan.

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Dark Green Vinyl

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

If we want to look into the future, we have to start considering the implications more holistically. All too often, science fiction is a dystopian projection of the current era's grimmest realities spiked with pragmatic historical hindsight - but what if instead it was able to reflect our needs, hopes, and dreams? On "SPINE", award-winning Danish composer SØS Gunver Ryberg considers a sustainable alternative, buoyed by interconnectedness, empowerment, and understanding. Channeling her dextrous sound design into advanced, time-bending music that fluctuates through techno, experimental ambient, and soundsystem-vibrating bass music, she maps out an artistic landscape that's futuristic and complex, but never oppressive.

Ryberg is an accomplished producer who's developed her sound over many years, playing concerts and working tirelessly on video game soundtracks, film scores, dance, performance, and multichannel installation pieces. Her first solo album "Entangled" appeared in 2019 on Berlin's esteemed Avian imprint, and was praised for its sensitive approach to noise and abstracted techno, while its EP-length followup "WHYT 030" was nominated for the Nordic Council's prestigious music prize this year. "SPINE" is the inaugural release on Ryberg's own label Arterial, and stands as a thematically dense statement of intent. The label provides a platform to extend Ryberg's artistic goals and reflect not just her world but a world she wants to see develop in the future: somewhere connected and creative, where exploration and free expression is prioritized over genre division and petty compromise.

This philosophy is central to the sounds on "SPINE", which have been carefully sculpted to accurately lay out Ryberg's worldview. Opening track 'Unfolding' presents a sonic ecosystem that flourishes as it spreads itself out, and quivering kick drums vibrate alongside unstable atmospherics. There's the faint fingerprint of Chain Reaction's notional dub techno in there somewhere, but Ryberg interrupts the thought before it can coagulate, assuring the listener that her vision isn't ponderous but playful and optimistic. This mood flickers into view again on the title track 'Spine', as fragmented breaks rumble beneath disorienting synths, faint images of a life we once knew refracted into cosmic beams of light. 'Mirrored Madness' meanwhile is warm, assertive, and optimistic, contrasting skittering cybernetic percussion with dense, enveloping harmonies.

When she pushes rhythm into the background, like on the cinematic 'We tumble on the edges', Ryberg's compositional skill is placed under the microscope. We're presented with the opportunity to examine another dimension of her work, the mystery beneath the stone, hearing saturated, alluring pads infused with hidden harmonies. In these moments, Ryberg implores all of us to consider the environment, asking us to think about the earth's essential nutrients on the dreamy 'Phosphorus Cycle', and what we might do to save ourselves on the delirious 'Where do we go from here'. Ryberg's concern isn't chastising, it's laid out in a warm embrace. The future could still be bright - there's something beautiful in the complexity if you just take the time to look closely.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

Orange Viny

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire’s new album Every Acre grapples with those themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In “New View,” McEntire cites poets “Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds” fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire’s voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: “Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me I’ll take more of you.” Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, “Shadows” develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how “to make room.” How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, “Rows of Clover” is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a “steadfast hound.” The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers–esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being “down on your knees, clawing at the garden” the only explicit mention of a person in the song. “It ain’t the easy kind of healing,” sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing takes time, time takes time truths that linger painfully. “Dovetail” is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire’s gentle, trembling vibrato harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre explores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

Dopeness Galore / Records We Release
"A newfound father's attempt to pass wisdom on to his children."

- Spring 2019 -

"As my girlfriend’s pregnancy was steadily treading along, I settled into my home studio in the attic of our new house. In our previous apartment I had a tiny room which could hardly fit my recording gear, let alone my drums which were still sitting at my parents’ house eating dust. Now that we’d moved into a bigger place, I had confiscated a part of the top floor to build my studio. This time I had just enough space to fit my drum set together with other percussion instruments, Fender Rhodes and synths. This sparked a whole new world of creative opportunities.

At the same time I also started to think about what kind of wisdom I would want to pass on to my children. I started writing down my thoughts. Little anecdotes, ponderings and things to think about as a human being.

These two events took place in parallel and once I actually started jotting down my first compositional ideas I saw the concept right there in front of me bright as day.

This LP has been written and recorded as inspiration to think about things and to keep re-thinking again and again to strengthen the knowledge of self.

Fruit Distro Collective is heavily inspired by Jazz composition, Hiphop drum sounds and the percussive elements of Afrobeat and Afro latin styles. "

Running Back regular Feater aka Daniel Meuzard puts his newly-transplanted studio through its paces for the first time since relocating from Vienna, swapping out the bustle of the city for the fresh mountain breeze of the West Alps. The Positive People EP proves that a change is as good as a rest, as the wide open nature not only had some rejuvenating effects on the creative process - it also gave Feater some room in his head to ponder questions about nature, nurture, and whether our inner morality is externally programmed.

The taut jazz funk of opening track Coding springs into action like the montage music of a lost ‘70s TV show, while the title track Positive People plays on the ambiguity of its title, with cascading synth notes, tastefully dubby 303 stabs, and an afro-cuban drum figure that forms the foundation for a spaced-out dancefloor workout. It's a combo of tracks that should appeal to chat room moderators and serotonin programmers alike.

Expensive Zeit kicks off sounding like grime maverick XTC had been brought up on Murder Capital electro rather than East London garage - before it morphs into a bumpin electrofunk and percussion session, with its sights set firmly on an aquatic worm hole. The EP rounds out with Decline All Cookies, which breaks out of a flanged-out half-time drum 'n' effects intro to reveal a lush chord progression, flipping a soul jazz piano mood into a trippy slice of modern instrumental funk.


Can man be the master of his own destiny? It seems with this change of location and musical direction, Feater might just have figured out the answer.