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Einstürzende Neubauten producer Boris Wilsdorf, Karl O’Connor aka Regis and MY DISCO's Liam Andrews assemble as EROS, bottling no-wave/industrial lightning with a tight set of pulverized, widescreen torched-songs that rasp, grate and throb somewhere between This Heat, The Cure, Cabaret Voltaire, Alva Noto x Pan Sonic.

An industrial fantasy of flesh and steel, ‘A Southern Code’ is the stunning continuation of the trio’s work at Wilsdorf’s pivotal Anderesbaustelle studio on Regis’ watershed album, ‘Hidden In This Is The Light That You Miss’. Rejoined by another key muse, Anni Hogan, and Einstürzende Neubauten’s Jochen Arbeit, they effectively galvanised a new band, EROS, during long days and nights in the studio across 2020 and into 2021. The sound they make is fiercely lean, shaped by Wilsdorf’s manacled mixing and anchored in the frankly sexy as f#ck swerve of Regis vocals and his snake-hipped rhythm section.

The first songs issued from those sessions form a lustrous new high point of contemporary industrial and dance music, one porous to Kurdish dabke as much as archetypal goth, pulsing with a metallic bloodlust and spatialized by Wilsdorf’s genre-forming tekkerz in a way that seriously rewards with proper amplification. Judged on its immediate merits, it’s the sort of record that could have feasibly come out at any point between the ‘80s and now, but closer inspection reveals a discreet framework of sculpted subbass and sleekly rolling traction that betrays the modernity of minimalist D&B physics and up-to-the-second sound design that places ‘A Southern Code’ in a timeless echelon.

Registering the venomous drums and over-the-shoulder whispers of its title track, plus the incendiary middle eastern horns of ‘The Crawling Man’ - a real parallel dimension take on The Cure’s ‘The Top’ - to the post-apocalyptic lounge lizard styles of ‘In This Place’, and the unheimlich creep to ‘Nature Unborn (From Sun to Sun)’, the band’s first album plants a vital stake in the ground for industrial musick at the crest of a new decade.

South-east Turkey born DJ, sound artist and producer Banu uses music as a political tool. For her, the strong message carried through sound is a vehicle to express emotions as well as a means of fighting against oppression. Using participation, social design, ecology, feminist and queer theory to create multimedia installations with sound as a main element, Banu‘s practice is closer to contemporary art and activist spaces than the club realm.

Banu‘s debut album TransSoundScapes is an exercise in female solidarity between her as a migrant woman and her sisters from the trans community, where an artist from one marginalised group is showing support towards her trans sisters, using her platform to help them amplify their voices and building a bridge towards a mutual understanding of femininity.

Conceptually, TransSoundScapes comes in continuation of Banu‘s previous research-based work, using music as a positive tool for change while working with various marginalised communities. The album originated from the very real experience of being confronted with verbal harassment in Berlin on a daily basis, particularly aimed at her transfeminine friends and companions. As a queer woman of Turkish and Kurdish origin, Banu did not only observe the verbal aggression directed at her friends, but also understood most of the insults shouted in languages such as Arabic. Seeing how she got signifi cantly more verbal violence directed at them when in company of trans people made a lasting impression on her, so she wanted to try and use her relative privilege to amplify transfeminine voices through her music.

Coming from a very conservative family, making music has been her lifelong dream. It was the moment she had the opportunity to work with the iconic Arp 2600 synthesiser (a younger sibling to Eliane Radigue‘s infamous 2500 machine) that all her disparate interests came into place to create an empowering soundscape with the aid of analogue drum machines. TransSoundScapes has a very full, porous sound, where every element that comes into play sounds soft yet clear. Across the 7 tracks, Banu conjures pounding subterraneous bassy techno („Surgery“), slithering tentacular EBM („First Time“) and pulsating cavernous soundscapes („Harem“), where oversized dancefl oor elements are woven with poetic spoken word passages, resulting in sensusous yet political anthems. Banu artfully merges loosely related genres such as techno, electro, dub and sound poems into a sound that is at once deeply personal and extremely compelling.

All of the tracks are collaborative efforts, Banu seeing the process as an exchange of care and shared experiences, while integrating research into her writing process. The lyrics in „Transition (part 1+2)‘‘ are an adaptation of Sara Ahmed’s “Living a Feminist Life”, while „Surgery“ was born out of series of interviews with trans people, channeling the metallic sounds of a surgery room to refer to society‘s perception of transness as a medical condition. Tracks like „First Time feat. Patricia“, „Harem feat. Prince Emrah“ or „We feat. Aérea Negrot“ document her encounters with various trans women, centering their life experiences while also developing a deep dialogue through the process of making music together.

The darkest and perhaps the most emblematic track is ‚‘Bianka (In Memory Of)‘‘, dedicated to the late Bianka Shigurova, a 22-year old Georgian actress found dead in her apartment. It was her Tbilisi photographer friend George Nebriedze who told her Bianka‘s tragic story, whose death is suspected to be an assasination due to transphobia. Banu chose one of Nebriedze‘s analogue photos of Bianka as the album‘s cover art.

Succession of images, clean memories resurfacing abruptly, not foreseen, not governed by the rational will.

The element of air enlightens fresh harmonies of open spaces, nature in instrumental guise lies down, taking life on irregular, porous rhythmical surfaces.

Tape

If Texturalis was a real word it might have something to do with the density or porosity of organic compounds.

In the case of Machinefabriek's Texturalis, the word fits the sounds on this album. Sounds indeed, not songs. Anyone familiar with Machinefabriek knows his interest in anything crackling, fizzling and buzzing. For Texturalis, Machinefabriek choose to work on just that; not to be bothered with creating elaborate compositions, but to focus on creating intriguing textures. This resulted in 18 two-minute vignettes. Each of these could be a glimpse of a continuous sound environment.

Fiat Lux is the debut album by Tarta Relena, a Barcelona-based project featuring Marta Torrella and Helena Ros. The group approaches the oral traditions of the Mediterranean from a contemporary perspective using a unique combination of ancient vocal melodies and subtle electronic textures.

Tarta Relena’s inspiration for Fiat Lux comes from historical characters, such as the Virgin Mary and Hildegard of Bingen, and timeless verses that deal with the cyclic nature of the human experience: “E suïcidi i el cant” (1) is an adaptation of a traditional poem by Pashtun women in Afghanistan; “Esta montanya d’enfrente” (3) is a traditional Sephardic song; “Safo” (9) is based on the love poems by Sappho of Lesbos.
Singing in Catalan, Spanish, Greek, Latin, English, and even Sephardi, the language of Hispanic jews, Tarta Relena explore a complex array of Latin cultures through the simplicity of voice. They draw from vocal techniques that range from flamenco to jazz, introducing elements of electronic music to redefine the melodies.
In January 2019, Tarta Relena released their first EP, Ora Pro Nobis: eight a cappella songs with minimal electronics. In April 2020, they released their second EP, Intercede Pro Nobis: a five-song dialogue between voice and electronics.
Fiat Lux expands on past experimentations, moving away from organic harmonies to embrace digital textures and distortions. The musical production of Juan Luis Batalla and Òscar Garrobé is remnant of Holly Herndon or Eartheater.
Tarta Relena have perhaps been best described by Pitchfork in their review of Pack Pro Nobis: “Tarta Relena is a celebration of musical exchange. At a time of rising nationalisms across Europe, Tarta Relena’s songs are a testament both to the porousness of borders and the ideas that unite disparate cultures, running beneath the centuries like a pedal tone”.

Copenhagen based label Escho release “Escho 15 år: Burgers for my new life” - an extensive compilation of exclusive material for their 15th anniversary (2005-2020). The compilation gathers music by all the currently active artists of Escho - both Danish and international - 27 artists in total. Contributing artists for the compilation are (in alphabetical order): Anders P Jensen, August Rosenbaum, Astrid Sonne, Baby In Vain, BishBusch, The Bleeder Group, Bona Fide, Collider, Dane TS Hawk, Eric Copeland, Excepter, First Hate, Gullo Gullo, Homies, iB101, Iceage, Joanne Robertson, Kh Marie, Liss, Puyain Sanati, Small White Man, Smerz, Søren Kjærgaard, Thulebasen, Varnrable, Yangze and Ydegirl. About Escho and the compilation: The Escho sound was born 15 years ago in small apartments around Enghave Plads, a slightly run-down square at the west end of Vesterbro, Copenhagen, past the kebab shops and the porno shops and the drunks. A few years earlier, as teenagers, several members of the Escho crew had made extremely strange, crisp metal in a very popular band. Escho was a promoter and booking agent as much as it was a label in the early days. They put on small shows to foster and hype the local scene and they brought important performers from all over the world to Copenhagen for the first time. Black Dice, Gang Gang Dance, White Magic, Excepter, Hype Williams, Boredoms, Charles Hayward, they rippled through Copenhagen after they came. Eric Copeland stayed for months. Lorenzo Senni, now well known as a vanguard dance producer, brought his high-school hardcore band to Copenhagen. Escho found and asked these artists to play. And Escho played their humble part in giving sound back to the world. Iceage, Posh Isolation and the Mayhem scene went global. Escho is a lot about being in Denmark, what that sounds like, and projecting it for anyone to hear. Across its releases, Escho’s aesthetic has allowed for the amateurish and the obsessive, the soft and the hard. Escho is about the power of shared experimental experience. Escho has been going for such a long time that the kids who started it are now twice as old as they were when they came up with the name, the idea, the desire to start something. Much younger people, generations younger, work at the label. The world has transformed since then. Escho was born in a period of time where alternative and underground music existed on a private, separate plane to mass culture, and it now finds itself in a time where mass culture and the underground are porous. Tribalism and niche knowledge has been blended by the internet, erasing the border between mainstream and underground modes. Alternative thinking takes many forms now, and new artists continue to expand and interpret the sound of Escho, carrying with them the same curiosity that lit the first Escho sparks 15 years ago. As a whole, this compilation — it is important to note — is jagged in form and tone. It is not even close to a conventional scene compilation, where the sound of a clan flows together. This record doesn’t flow like that. And this, fittingly, makes this anniversary album a ‘classic’ Escho release, because conventions about form and presentation are thrown out the window and new conventions proposed. It is a reminder that Escho quietly remains an ongoing art project as much as anything else. More than its form and tone, however, this compilation is jagged because it is a document of today. It is not final, or conclusive in any way, because the contours of contemporary music are boundless. It’s jagged because Escho has been to a million shows, and put on a million shows, and still loves going to shows. It is a picture of pluralism, discovery and openness. It makes a case for having ears, and making art, and propagating this so that successive generations of young people do it too. This is exactly as it was in the beginning






















[v] 22 First Hate – Vampire Boy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ [2020 Demo]

Have we ever needed great storytellers so badly? Voices to snap us out of our collective grey funk, to pull us out of our narrow, hemmed-in worlds and to lighten our days and enlighten us with their perspectives, Immersing us in their worldview and history. People who can make us laugh, cry, gasp or nod sagely, to see our world anew and not feel so alone. We need stories, vignettes, new windows to look out of, and narrators to help those new visions make sense.

In short, we need Scott Lavene. Born and raised in Essex, but a man of the world who has wandered far and wide, Lavene’s a storyteller who can capture all the madness, joy and frustration of life while singing about worms writhing in the ground. Lavene’s been in bands since his teens, but only really located the voice that makes his new album Milk City Sweethearts so remarkable – that combination of wry observation, humble wisdom, unguarded vulnerability and unpredictable humour – in a music workshop for alcoholics and addicts, long after he’d bid farewell to childhood dreams of pop stardom, and the ghosts and demons that accompany those dreams.

He released an album as Big Top Heartbreak, 2016’s Deadbeat Ballads, and followed it with his first album under his own name, 2019’s droll and marvellous Broke. “I was signed to a little label in Bristol, but then they went skint,” he remembers. This time, however, the disappointment didn’t shake his confidence or his resolve. “I started writing prose, like ‘flash fiction’, and I’ve begun a novel,” he says. “And I’ve started some creative writing workshops for people who’ve come out of my situation.”

Amid all this activity, the songs that became Milk City Sweethearts began to take shape. Lavene noticed the border between his prose and his songwriting beginning to become porous, and the album feels like a clutch of excellent short stories set to music. Without a label, he recorded the album at home, and assembled it in a week in his mum’s garage during lockdown’s heavy manners. It’s a warm, witty, charismatic record with a dark heart at the centre, Lavene sounding dislocated and therefore able to write his everyday stories with a left-handed brilliance and blunt honesty that keeps them so fresh, like classic Kinks, or David Bowie if he’d never had to go to space to feel otherworldly. His songs are talking blues, set to loose and minimal and excellent art-rock with a pop sensibility, the honk of Roxy sax and the guttural weird-funk of Ian Dury’s Blockheads haunting their grooves.

Have we ever needed great storytellers so badly? Voices to snap us out of our collective grey funk, to pull us out of our narrow, hemmed-in worlds and to lighten our days and enlighten us with their perspectives, Immersing us in their worldview and history. People who can make us laugh, cry, gasp or nod sagely, to see our world anew and not feel so alone. We need stories, vignettes, new windows to look out of, and narrators to help those new visions make sense.

In short, we need Scott Lavene. Born and raised in Essex, but a man of the world who has wandered far and wide, Lavene’s a storyteller who can capture all the madness, joy and frustration of life while singing about worms writhing in the ground. Lavene’s been in bands since his teens, but only really located the voice that makes his new album Milk City Sweethearts so remarkable – that combination of wry observation, humble wisdom, unguarded vulnerability and unpredictable humour – in a music workshop for alcoholics and addicts, long after he’d bid farewell to childhood dreams of pop stardom, and the ghosts and demons that accompany those dreams.

He released an album as Big Top Heartbreak, 2016’s Deadbeat Ballads, and followed it with his first album under his own name, 2019’s droll and marvellous Broke. “I was signed to a little label in Bristol, but then they went skint,” he remembers. This time, however, the disappointment didn’t shake his confidence or his resolve. “I started writing prose, like ‘flash fiction’, and I’ve begun a novel,” he says. “And I’ve started some creative writing workshops for people who’ve come out of my situation.”

Amid all this activity, the songs that became Milk City Sweethearts began to take shape. Lavene noticed the border between his prose and his songwriting beginning to become porous, and the album feels like a clutch of excellent short stories set to music. Without a label, he recorded the album at home, and assembled it in a week in his mum’s garage during lockdown’s heavy manners. It’s a warm, witty, charismatic record with a dark heart at the centre, Lavene sounding dislocated and therefore able to write his everyday stories with a left-handed brilliance and blunt honesty that keeps them so fresh, like classic Kinks, or David Bowie if he’d never had to go to space to feel otherworldly. His songs are talking blues, set to loose and minimal and excellent art-rock with a pop sensibility, the honk of Roxy sax and the guttural weird-funk of Ian Dury’s Blockheads haunting their grooves.

Ltd Black Vinyl Gatefold edition + 32 Page Booklet + Download Code

The LP contains original compositions by Ryuichi Sakamoto, Pascal Comelade, Laurie Spiegel, Lyra Pramuk, Chassol, Nicolas Godin and Pierre Rousseau, Pedro Vian and Pierre Bastien, Visible Cloaks, Kelman Duran, Raul Refree, Lucrecia Dalt, Lafawndah.

+ a booklet with writings by contemporary thinkers like Shumon Basar, François J. Bonnet, and pictures by, Araki, Juergen Teller, Elizaveta Porodina, Dani Pujalte, P Jack Davison, Zhong Lin, Alessandra Sanguinetti, Adrià Cañameras, Javier Tles among others. Lacquer cut by Josh Bonati & Mastered by Rashad Becker

'PRSNT' is a unique global artistic project combining the input of artists across the worlds of music, video and written word which acts as a statement on how we, as consumers, engage with music in the 21st century. Vital electronic musicians including Ryuichi Sakamoto, Lafawndah, Lyra Pramuk, Lucrecia Dalt and Visible Cloaks have each contributed tracks, which are approximately 32 seconds long.

The concept was devised by Created By Us and the Barcelona-based label Modern Obscure Music. They read a study which identified that the overwhelming volume of instantly accessible information online is shortening attention spans and altering how audiences engage with music digitally. Their curiosity about the state of online consumption developed further on discovering that around a third of all listeners using digital platforms skip to the next track, within the first 30 seconds of playing.

Each musician was given a fascinating challenge to create engaging compositions with real artistic merit, inside the confines of this shortened span. Akin to Brian Eno's famous Windows 95 start-up music, the time constraints are crucial, and the compositions are deceptively complex and more substantial than expectations of their nano nature would suggest.

'PRSNT' acts as a critique of flighty feed culture, but is simultaneously constructive, providing something which is either proposed solution, or "if you can't beat 'em join 'em" resignation. Every artist has interpreted the brief differently, resulting in an intriguing blueprint for the potential future of digital music. Could abbreviated micro compositions satisfy, inspire and nourish like their longer counterparts? They certainly take up much less of listeners' busy lives, which are often spent tackling ever-increasing workloads.

Ltd White Vinyl Gatefold edition + 32 Page Booklet + Download Code

The LP contains original compositions by Ryuichi Sakamoto, Pascal Comelade, Laurie Spiegel, Lyra Pramuk, Chassol, Nicolas Godin and Pierre Rousseau, Pedro Vian and Pierre Bastien, Visible Cloaks, Kelman Duran, Raul Refree, Lucrecia Dalt, Lafawndah.

+ a booklet with writings by contemporary thinkers like Shumon Basar, François J. Bonnet, and pictures by, Araki, Juergen Teller, Elizaveta Porodina, Dani Pujalte, P Jack Davison, Zhong Lin, Alessandra Sanguinetti, Adrià Cañameras, Javier Tles among others. Lacquer cut by Josh Bonati & Mastered by Rashad Becker

'PRSNT' is a unique global artistic project combining the input of artists across the worlds of music, video and written word which acts as a statement on how we, as consumers, engage with music in the 21st century. Vital electronic musicians including Ryuichi Sakamoto, Lafawndah, Lyra Pramuk, Lucrecia Dalt and Visible Cloaks have each contributed tracks, which are approximately 32 seconds long.

The concept was devised by Created By Us and the Barcelona-based label Modern Obscure Music. They read a study which identified that the overwhelming volume of instantly accessible information online is shortening attention spans and altering how audiences engage with music digitally. Their curiosity about the state of online consumption developed further on discovering that around a third of all listeners using digital platforms skip to the next track, within the first 30 seconds of playing.

Each musician was given a fascinating challenge to create engaging compositions with real artistic merit, inside the confines of this shortened span. Akin to Brian Eno's famous Windows 95 start-up music, the time constraints are crucial, and the compositions are deceptively complex and more substantial than expectations of their nano nature would suggest.

'PRSNT' acts as a critique of flighty feed culture, but is simultaneously constructive, providing something which is either proposed solution, or "if you can't beat 'em join 'em" resignation. Every artist has interpreted the brief differently, resulting in an intriguing blueprint for the potential future of digital music. Could abbreviated micro compositions satisfy, inspire and nourish like their longer counterparts? They certainly take up much less of listeners' busy lives, which are often spent tackling ever-increasing workloads.

On steady rise following two sublime singles over the past year—Sagano b/w Haru Wa Akebono and Karakuri b/w Michinoku—Tokyo-based artist Hoshina Anniversary elaborates his eccentric musical point-of-view even further with a debut album for the ESP Institute entitled Jomon. Fourteen tracks stir a melting pot in line with our obsessions, a variety of styles which often stay in their own dedicated lanes while here their trajectories collide in demonstrable fusion. Hoshina gleans borderline absurdist qualities from late Jazz hero Chick Corea (evident in his wild and meticulous keyboard runs), calls upon ancient Japanese instruments, shrines and mythologies, and makes sideways nods to early minimal synth productions, yet all of the above are sifted through some granular equalization, an abstract veil that smooths the skin of Hoshina's mutant creation. A weight of experience pervades throughout, a requisite education in the electronic realm and a deep reverence for Jazz and its masters, and in turn this confidence transfers a sense of ease which leaves us poring over alternative approaches to otherwise familiar tropes. Once this conversation with the music is established, a subliminal push/pull tension toys with us across the length of the album, undulating our sense of space. The tonally rich, dynamic and melodic side of the works present a cool sense of depth but are violently contrasted by a slew of over-saturated punches, and at some point an inevitable alchemy casts these disparate expressions into a haunting monolithic array. Some are glistening and smooth, others are porous and jagged, but all amount to a staunch and cohesive work with the ability to transport listeners to regions unknown.

On the Corner have taken a deep dive into the murky waters whereancient percussion are jolted through history with a high voltageshock of experimental electronics. Across the territory of 'When theWaters Refused Our History', Sunken Cages channels his ownjourney and that of the world of his ancestors and adroitly breachesthe porous frontiers being pushed by the cosmic adventures-led OntheCorner. Sunken Cages is the moniker for Ravish Momin, an Indian-borndrummer, electronic music producer and educator. For the pastdecade, Momin has been experimenting with enhancing his acousticdrum sounds with electronic ones, and has crafted a unique electro-acoustic approach. He triggers sounds and textures, layers live-loops and manipulates them 'on the fly', to blur the lines betweencomposition and improvisation. While rooted in Indian folk and BlackMusic traditions, Sunken Cages is also influenced by the streetsounds of South African G'com, Angolan Kuduro and Egyptian Mahraganat. He currently leads the electronic music focussed duo 'TurningJewels Into Water' with Haitian percussion virtuoso Val Jeanty.Ravish's unique approach quickly led him to work as a sideman witha diverse cast of musicians ranging from pop-star Shakira tolegendary avant-saxophonist Kalaparusha Maurice McIntyre (of theAACM).

SUMMER OF SEVENTEEN are MONIKA KHOT (NORDRA, ZEN MOTHER), WILLIAM FOWLER COLLINS, DANIEL MENCHE, FAITH COLOCCIA (MAMIFFER), and AARON TURNER. (SUMAC, SPLIT CRANIUM).

Wildfires plagued Washington state during the summer of 2017, their smoke drifting westward toward the Seattle area and toxifying the air. Shortly before that trauma, MONIKA KHOT, WILLIAM FOWLER COLLINS, DANIEL MENCHE, FAITH COLOCCIA, and AARON TURNER had gathered at the latter two musicians' House Of Low Culture studio on idyllic Vashon Island with revered producer RANDALL DUNN. There they cut eight songs that capture the makeshift band's feelings of what COLOCCIA calls "a kind of doomsday lurking in the background." It's as if these highly attuned players had a premonition.

"Summer Of Seventeen" -which was edited and arranged by MONIKA KHOT, who records apocalyptic music solo as NORDRA and plays in the avant-rock band ZEN MOTHER—is a nuanced admixture of these musicians' sounds and a culmination of all of their previous collaborations. COLOCCIA and TURNER have created eldritch folk and chamber rock for over a decade in MAMIFFER while engaging in various solo and group projects that explore their profound spirituality in sound. MENCHE has been a fixture on the abstract composition scene for 31 years and COLLINS is a savvy explorer of drone and ambient forms. Their ephemeral summit meeting has yielded a masterwork for the ages.

A heaven/hell and beauty/beastliness dichotomy pervades the album—as if a titanic struggle was transpiring in that small studio. The fearsome trumpet fanfare that starts "Chorus Of The Innocents" heralds a baleful fate. With a subliminal industrial rhythm bristling beneath the eerie exhalations, the song submerges us in a slow-motion maelstrom, a horror-film facsimile of MILES DAVIS' "Bitches Brew". "Perceived Slight" threads death-metal screams through a stark, suspenseful atmosphere, with austere glints of guitar and beats like fists on a casket lid intensifying the dread.

Angelic chants and celestial drones perfume the air in several of the songs on "Summer Of Seventeen", countered with muted blast beats, serrated hums, jagged glitches, simulacra of grinding gears and lightning. It's as if no good deed goes unpunished. "Spirits Of Redeemer" could be an elegy for the human race while "Cultural Orphan" sounds like a symphony for a malfunctioning factory. The album ends with "Theatre Needs An Audience," a harrowing ballad somewhere between EINSTÜRZENDE NEUBAUTEN and MERZBOW; it's a savage rent in the space-time continuum.

"Thinking about this record now," COLOCCIA recalls, "it seems like we were all sort of anticipating something like this current pandemic happening, although we were thinking about it as fire in the hands of man (literal fire, and also gunfire) that would overturn the normal running of things and reveal the current false beliefs systems holding up most of America."

That grave aura infiltrates "Summer Of Seventeen", However, a hopefulness bubbles beneath the foreboding architecture of sound and noise summoned here. The bunker is the new penthouse.

-Dave Segal, April 2020

Fischgeist was recorded in a former water tank in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg in August 2019. The nineteenth-century brick building consists of five layered circles, with a spiral staircase in the middle leading up to an exit to a hilltop. Inside, it’s humid and cold, the temperature always around 8–10 C°. The building’s acoustics produce a long reverberation that lasts up to 20 seconds.

‘One day between recording sessions, a man, a passerby, wanted to look inside the building. He told me that it used to be full of fish. For a second I imagined a huge round aquarium with loads of fish swimming around in circles. Then I realized that he meant dead fish were kept there, to be sold on markets during the GDR era. But the image of fish swimming in the space stayed with me.’

In conversation with the space of the water tank, Tomoko Sauvage searches beyond the limits of her self-invented ‘natural synthesizers’: porcelain and glass bowls, filled with water and amplified with hydrophones.

While she continues to develop some of the classic techniques heard on her previous album Musique Hydromantique (Shelter Press, 2017) – hydrophonic feedback (Kinetosis Study) and ‘fortune biscuits’ (porous pieces of terracotta that emit tiny singing bubbles) (Deluge) – here new elements are combined with delicate gestures to make curious noises: stroking bowls’ surfaces to imitate the voices of sea mammals (Metamorphosis), drawing dots and circles by rubbing stones against stones underwater (Exit) … The underwater amplification of quasi-inaudible sound is even more magnified in the air by the echo of the water tank. Not only tiny bubbles, but also micro-movements of the bones and veins of the hand holding the sonorous objects in the water, are intensely amplified – sounding like a tempest on the opening Deluge. Sauvage’s longtime research into hydrophonic feedback develops with her new obsession with natural harmonics and sympathetic resonance. In Flying Vessels, the percussive notes of struck bowls resonate and turn into feedback loops before decaying, fueled by electric signal gain. Kinetosis Study is a sonic etude on fluid dynamics – the flow velocity, pressure and density of manually shaped water waves directly controlling the aquatic synthesizer’s parameters.

August, when the mid-summer Ghost Festival is held, is traditionally known as the Ghost Month throughout East Asia. The spirits of the dead visit their living families, who welcome them with feasts, dancing and music. Miniature lantern-laden boats are released in rivers, to help lost ghosts find their way home.

Animated by formless matter – water, electricity, sound – Fischgeist celebrates a phantasmagoric journey, as the souls of aquatic lifeforms find their way out of the labyrinth of the water tank.

Credits
Composed, performed and mixed by Tomoko Sauvage
Recorded and produced by bohemian drips prior to ‘Speicher’ festival in Berlin, August 2019 (binaural recording with a KU-100 dummy head microphone)
Mastered by Andreas Kauffelt in Berlin
Cover drawings by Baien Mōri (1798-1851)
© Tomoko Sauvage and bohemian drips – all rights reserved

"Imagine the opposite of a snake shedding its skin: a body slithering among the debris of 21st-century music; a porous, viscid body, its skin an adhesive, lodging onto itself bits and pieces along the way. Some are scraps, rusted, discarded parts. Some are the jewels of crowns, unglued and fallen from grace, now re-attached on this makeshift contraption. Where does a body end? Does it end where these prostheses begin?

Jay Glass Dubs’ Soma (“body” in Greek) is a palimpsest. Look closely and you can find all sorts of DNA microarrays on the body’s skin – Bristol voices, Detroit electro hums, the amen break, the all-encompassing dub haze – but, as with all palimpsests, they are simultaneously one and a multitude. The body lives, its prostheses live.

The body moves."

The latest addition to Furanum's discography arrives as an EP entitled "White Cold Skin" that simultaneously marks the emergence onto the scene of Beuthen OS. In keeping with the central ethos of the label, the figure behind the guise interrogates and ably materializes the industrial aesthetics of raw power and dystopic bleakness within the confines four diverse yet thematically coherent compositions.

The exploration of said dichotomy is cogently on display within the eponymous track, where an immediately evident presence of inordinate subsonic force is gradually complemented by the imposing throes of harsh yet carefully crafted analog cyclicality. Linearly hurtling toward its final destination, it relentlessly batters the listener with exhilaratory waves of cold sweat in its wake.

In contrast, "J131" and "Porobieni" present far more dispersed and unorthodox rhythmical structures as they maintain the omnipresent sense of part thrilling, part foreboding unease that permeates the record. Propelled by a pervasive pendulatory sway, the former radiates barely repressed power as it exerts its existential narrative, while the latter seems to speak to the ritualistic submission of willing bodies continually broken on the rhythmic wheel of a self-perpetuating cycle of sonic gratification.

Finally, recorded live and serving as an apt epilogue, a beatless yet by no means any less compelling droning rendition closes out the record. Whereas overt melodic content was hitherto eschewed in favor of rhythmic complexity, the piece more than delivers on this front, thrusting the audience into an ever encompassing and vividly visceral collage of throbbing textures as it progresses towards the revelatory unconcealment of a recondite core.

Mastered & cut by Kassian Troyer at Berlin's Dubplates & Mastering,

Formerly clandestine, today manifest, both sacred but also profane, sometimes meditated, very often improvised, the Kabar transpires in the daily Reunion, getting rid with insolence of any label that dares to impose. The Kabar is a fleeting but bubbling manifestation of an identity and a local culture that is still difficult to define. A moment of life and sharing where handcrafted instruments, neighborhood meetings, ritual dances and lyrical demands are mixed. A meeting.

Born from the musical union of maloya and electronic music, Digital Kabar is a compilation at the crossroads of cultures, porous to all sound experiences. It's also the result of a friendship that drives InFiné at Les Electropicales festival, from the fascination of a small team dedicated to the independent musical cause for a musical scene and its diversity.

Digital Kabar features tracks & reworks from Jako Maron, InFiné affiliate Labelle, Alex Barck, Christine Salem, Boogzbrown, Loya, Sheitan Brothers,Ti Fock, Force Indigène, Agnesca, Zong, Psychorigid, J-ZeuS, and Kwalud.

The tempo picks up with Exuberant Gambit, a jungle-tekkno hybrid that flexes a rugged, mutant "Think" break under porous beats and an eerie aerobic melody. Mae Geri delivers the final forward thrust with abbrasive percussion underlining a paranoid sequence reminiscent of '90s era NYC warehouse material. Packed with olympic energy, Sportiv 005 is a high-intensity, dance floor-optimised escapade.

Virginia/North Carolina-based cult Loincloth reveal details of the upcoming LP, Psalm Of The Morbid Whore. This marks their second and final full-length release, again via the masters of heavy, Southern Lord Recordings.

Packing nine new instrumental passages of white-knuckled twists, and by-the-throat percussion,into a half-hour onPsalm Of The Morbid Whore. As with their 2012-released Southern Lord debut LP, Iron Balls Of Steel , Loincloth returned to Pershing Hill Sound in Raleigh, North Carolina to record with Greg Elkins. Masteringby Brad Boatright (Sleep, Corrosion Of Conformity, Sunn O))), Obituary) at Audiosiege.

About the release, the band made the following statement, Loincloth is no longer a live band, so this record is our final offering not only to the great horned one below, but to the committed ladies and gentlemen of the Cloth.'

Loincloth is a culmination of years of worshiping at the altar of the riff and Psalm Of The Morbid Whore arrives with the promise of absolute pummel! Guitarist Tannon Penland and drummer Steve Shelton (Confessor) return with their twisted brand of instrumental metal on the forthcoming LP, this time around also enlisting the infernal hands of Tomas Phillips on bass, who collaborated with Penland in experimental outfit Gauchiste for their self-titled 2012's release through Little Black Cloud Records. Penland, Shelton, and Phillips were joined by guitarist Craig Hiltonwho contributed towards the composition and on tour with Sunn O))) and at festivals from Barcelona's Day OfDoom and Power Of The Riff inLos Angeles, to Richmond's GWAR-B-Q.

Join Loincloth in their final hour of worship...