Suche:port

Berlin electronic duo Donna Regina recorded two songs for the 10th edition of the Snowflakes Christmas Singles Club. In ‘Weihnachten Woanders’ (‘Christmas Somewhere Else’), singer Regina Janssen reflects on how it feels to spend Christmas away from home. Somewhere else, in a strange town where nobody knows your name and no one is waiting for you. You miss the familiar sounds of Christmas, like the child that sings ‘Stille Nacht’ and you dream of being home again. It’s a feeling many people can relate to. Especially this year, a year in which so many people were forced to flee from their homes. Günter Janssen, the other half of Donna Regina and Regina’s husband, lays down a minimalistic tapestry of synths and drum rolls. A loop of street sounds, a sample taken from sound artist Paula Schopf’s 2021 album ‘Especios En Soledad’, forces its way into the song, and in the end overpowers voice and other instruments. ‘Weihnachten Woanders’ very much captures the year 2022 and the worrying times we are living in, in both lyrics and music.

‘Christmas With You’, the B-side of the single, was originally written and recorded by Polish indie band Old Time Radio for their 2009 Christmas album 'Sketches For Another Christmas Songbook'. Donna Regina again goes for a minimalistic electronic sound, but also adds a certain melancholy to the song. Partly due to the synths that in places resemble the sound of an organ, an instrument that appeared on so many Christmas recordings from the 1950s and early 1960s. The love-hate relationship many people have with Christmas is perfectly laid down in the lyrics: “We watch the cartoons / We sing out of tune / Kiss by the fireplace / Listen to those horrible songs / Do we know / It’s Christmas time at all?”.

Regina and Donna Janssen debuted as Donna Regina in 1990 with the single 'Avec Le Temps' and released their debut album 'Lazing Away' in 1992 on Our Choice, a German sublabel of Rough Trade. In 1999, after four albums on Strange Ways Records, they signed to their current label Karaoke Kalk. Since then, they have released eight albums for the label. In 2015, Karaoke Kalk also released 'Dis Cover', a compilation of Donna Regina songs recorded by other artists like Dean & Britta, Bernard Burgalat, Mouse On Mars and many others. Donna Regina’s songs have been featured on compilations of labels like Rough Trade, Sonar Kollektiv, Klant Elektronik, Milan and Rolling Stone. Donna Regina was not Günther’s first band. In the early 1980s he was part of a Neue Deutsche Welle act with a very Christmas-related name: Heilige 3 Köninge ('Holy 3 Kings'). Their sole album, 1982's 'Zum Teufel Met Dem Kamel' has become very collectable. Günther was also featured as songwriter and musician on German singer Romie Singh's 1986 CBS album 'Masters' and later ventured into writing music for television and film. Regina Janssen also recorded as a vocalist with French musician Bertrand Burgalat, and sang several songs on his 2005 album ‘Portrait-Robot”.

Jude Woodhead AKA Saint Jude is a born and bred South London based producer who first approached songwriting after being diagnosed with Tinnitus which prevented him from pursuing his DJ career. While his previous works found space between genres, with elements of indie, ambient pop, hip-hop, Uk garage and noise, his debut self-produced album 'Signal' - out in November 2022 - rejects the limitations of genres altogether while anchoring his music firmly in the sounds of his native South London.
Conceptualized during the lockdown in 2020, ‘Signal’ is a self-portrait about coming of age during a time of political crisis and social change. Enlisting the help of past collaborators and friends (Aga Ujma, Low Loudly - Sarah from Drug Store Romeos - Louis Culture, Trim, HALINA and Zeke Ultra), Jude uses a wide range of voices to communicate different perspectives on his subject matter.

Shannen Moser wants to have a conversation: with their past selves, their present self, their undesignated, unfurling future selves; with the trees that adorn their old street, and the door they used to call home; with the shadows of lovers-turned-to- friends and the overwhelming cacophony of abrupt change. They’re drawing a map but the port of call is cloudy and indistinct. It’s while traveling along these nebulous contours that their latest album The Sun Still Seems To Move forms a kind of physicality, of outstretched giving hands, that offers a guide through the fog. Here, Moser examines the disorien- tating, challenging task of trying to hold onto ourselves––and everything else––all at once. But this isn’t a fatalistic journey of melancholy or apprehension. Instead, Moser celebrates the small steps and the unwavering perseverance that makes it all worthwhile.

Moser’s previous albums Oh, My Heart (2017) and I’ll Sing (2018) were praised for their careful, intimate arrangements that showcased their sharp, interpersonal narration and time- less lush vocals. On The Sun Still Seems To Move

In 2003, Pisco Crane assembled a six-piece band from motivated and talented like minds in the Kinshasa slums where he grew up. Pisco had been involved with a handful of local rap acts when he was younger, but after meeting legendary instrument builder Bebson De La Rue, he was inspired to follow a new path. He set about building instruments from the discarded trash that surrounded his city: bits of old computers or oil cans were fashioned into bass guitars and drums, and keyboards were bashed together using springs, metal pipes, and offcuts of tubing. If there was a core philosophy that guided Pisco at this stage in his journey, it was that everyone should have access to instruments, no matter where they come from or what their budget might be. And following in the footsteps of Bebson, Pisco locked into a Congolese tradition that touches on the eccentric genius of globally lauded artists like Konono Nº1 and Staff Benda Bilili. Over the years, Fulu Miziki's notoriety grew in the Kinshasa underground - their utopian vision of the future was infectious. Eventually, they were joined by performance artist, sculptor and fashion designer Lady Aisha, who offered the band unique colour and a soulful central focus. Influenced by Kinshasa's street performance scene, Aisha helped the band devise vivid masks and costumes that were as electric and singular as the instruments they played, and the scene was set. In 2020, as the world was plunged into lockdown, footage of Fulu Miziki went viral and their star began to grow exponentially, with a video of the band preforming the track 'Tikanga' racking up millions of views on Facebook. The band used this opportunity to work on documenting their sound, and shored up at the Nyege Nyege studios in Kampala for a year to assemble a definitive album. Recorded by HHY & The Macumbas' Jonathan Saldanha, this record captures the band's furiously innovative mixture of industrial sonics, spiritual jazz, punk, and Congolese soukous pressure. At their best, Fulu Miziki sound almost completely out of time, curving pounding rhythms around microtonal clanks, rousing chants and spiky sonics. On 'Mutangila', there's a hint of disco in the 4/4 stomp, but it's been shifted into a post-punk ritual, adorned with complex bell percussion and overlapping vocals. 'Congo' is even harder to define; electrified buzzes form a bassline, but it's the mindboggling rhythms that shuttle the track into psychedelic realms, led confidently by Lady Aisha's limber rhymes. Fulu positively slither on the sultry, industrial-influenced 'Sebe', while 'Tikanga' reminds of Congo's rumba-derived soukous traditions, materializing the sounds into the future with tight, pounding percussion and head-melting fx. The story of Fulu Miziki is sprawling and complex and constantly evolving, with various offshoots and band iterations. Two members left the band in 2016 to form KOKOKO! with French producer Débruit. Not long after they recorded this magnum opus album, several other original members left to form a similarly named outfit currently based in Europe. This other incarnation recently released an EP of electronic productions without the band founder Pisko Crane and lead vocalist Lady Aicha, on the UK based Moshi Moshi records. Pisco and Lady Aicha currently lead a different outfit in Kinshasa made up of completely new musicians. This full-length is the remaining proof of Fulu Mziki at their most vital and most complete - it won't be repeated - and can never be recreated. It's an essential portrait of one of the Democratic Republic of Congo's most innovative contemporary outfits, and some of the most surprising hybrid music you're likely to hear.

Ingredient is the elegant collaboration of Toronto poets, composers, producers and dear friends Ian Daniel Kehoe and Luka Kuplowsky. Their self-titled release is an enigmatic electronic avant-pop record attuned to the micro and macro perspectives of the natural world. Ingredient is an album whose lyrics are more poem than lyric, and whose songs exist in a merger of house music, philosophically-minded lyricism and contemporary R&B. One might recall electronic and art-pop luminaries such as Yukihiro Takahashi, The Blue Nile, and Arthur Russell, or connect it to contemporaries like Nite Jewel, Westerman and Blood Orange. A distinct world of dance, of questions, of secrecy and ultimate softness.

Eight years of friendship forges strange telepathy.

In the summer of 2020, Ian Daniel Kehoe was entrenched in a new feeling of heaviness; psychosomatic symptoms had started to proliferate; stress made new pores across the body, bending sensitivity into pain. His days were met with confusion, detachment, sleeplessness and pain without causation. Disfigured, he felt that what had been central and centering was blown out to the periphery of things. In a moment of self-preservation he reached out to his dear friend Luka Kuplowsky to make an album together. For Kehoe, it was an instinctual grasp for the anchoring truthfulness of deep friendship and the potential for a dedicated creative collaboration. Kuplowsky’s presence was light, supportful and curious, eager to explore musically the sounds they were mutually drawn to: house music, ambient pop, dub. The duality between Kuplowsky and Kehoe – between the Aflight and the Unmoored – is a portrait of a friendship whose exchanges came easy and produced an outpouring of song. Creation and therapy crisscross. In email correspondence that catalogs their process of collaboration, affection abounds: “feels bare without the Luka Licks”, or “Love you so much”, or “Kinda just overwhelmed with deadliness coming in at all angles.” When their voices first come in together on “Wolf,” that harmony arrives in a dramatic avant-pop sound that is bold and wondrous.

Kuplowsky and Kehoe both arrive at Ingredient as established artists whose works are committed to language’s propensity to provoke and mystify. Kuplowsky’s 2020 album Stardust is an idiosyncratic and otherworldly blend of pop and jazz romanticism grounded by Cohen-esque vocals and a stirring philosophical curiosity. Kehoe’s entrance into the new decade has hatched four records of pop experimentation, most recently 2022’s Yes Very So, a euphoric and bold album of poetic synth-pop and meditative ambient instrumentals. Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s union as Ingredient is a beautiful and unusual chemistry that integrates their distinct approaches while bringing forth a newness: a sound that alternates between cinematic technicolor and dubbed out fogginess; a lyricism that exchanges their lucid and clear poetics for a playful and obtuse verse. The album intuitively taps into the opposing emotional states of Kuplowsky and Kehoe during the conception of the record, contrasting the buoyancy of trumpeting keyboards (“Resurface”), angelic synthesized voices (“Come”), and rolling bass (“Photo”) with the record’s underlying darkness of whirring buzzsaw textures (“Transmission”), whooping sirens (“Wolf”) and murky ambience (“Illumination”). Lyrically, this duality arises in the record’s flux between openness (“Variation”, “Raindrop”) and existential dread (“Wolf”). “Illumination” most clearly crystalizes this opposition, reconciling the verses’ neurotic yearning for enlightenment with the chorus’ liberating doctrine of negation: “no more devotion… no more delusion”. Amidst the gradations of light and dark, Kuplowsky and Kehoe trade indelible, lush melodies as though their voices are made of a substance that melts easily one into the other. The harmony of poetry, sound, and texture cuts through your brain fog like a wet diamond.

Ingredient’s self-titled record was assembled by Kuplowsky and Kehoe over the course of six months in a home studio they frequented daily. Amidst synthesizers and drum machines they composed, re-composed, and workshopped a wide array of music, ultimately focusing on a set of eight songs that lived in a shared musical and philosophical world. Recording days often ended in basketball games at a local court or a rooftop commune over a pot of tulsi tea and a crossword puzzle. Kuplowsky brought in the Blue Cliff Record – the classic anthology of Chan Buddhism – whose inscrutable and sublime insights remained constant throughout the recording process as an activator of reorientation and reflection. While Kehoe was frequently rendered physically immobile by bouts of anxiety, a patience and mutual caring governed the pace of their creation; rest, stretching and meditation became equally important as the act of arrangement. Invited into their intimate circle of composition was Thom Gill, whose heavenly voice uplifts “Variation” and “Raindrop,” and Karen Ng, whose alto sax simmers and dances around the funky strut of “Raindrop.”

The lyrics on Ingredient reflect the persistence of change, the infinite variability of nature where randomness and divergence are no accidents. In Daoism, duality, in the form of Yin and Yang, is not contradictory as it is in Western idealist philosophy, but rather composes the eternal and lived paradox of our changeless-changing universe: changeless because all is change, and changing because the dynamism of the Dao makes each moment transformational. Kuplowsky and Kehoe refract this way of seeing the world, as in Variation: “Variation in the natural world / there it is.” Ingredient is an experience of the manifold ways of saying there it is of the transformational world, and there it is, unfolding. Elsewhere, change and ephemerality is addressed through the record’s preoccupation with non-human perspectives, reorienting the listener to the wolf, the mouse, the emerald frog, the centipede, the bird, the fly in the lamp. The album cover visualizes this fascination with the striking image of a reddish-orange frog atop a defamiliarized landscape of dark green leaves. Mirroring the exploratory process of the record’s collaboration, the frog also signals the amphibian’s natural inclination to leap into boundless potential. Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s lyrics manifest philosopher and ecologist Timothy Morton’s concept of “the mesh,” drawing attention to the “vast, entangled web” of interconnectedness that connects all life forms and interweaving the songwriters’ shared wonder into the Animal’s unknowability. As Luka narrates in the breakdown of the dance-floor ready “Photo,” “the closer we observe things, the further they retreat into abstraction.” In Ingredient’s ecosystem, perception is a reversible fractal where the world’s minutest details mirror the shape of the cosmos.

According to the Dao, the path to healing starts by reorienting perception away from the self and toward the self’s subsumption in Totality. For Kehoe, collaborating with Kuplowsky became the reorientation necessary for the self-preservation he was seeking, opening up a shared creative practice to navigate and soften the complexity of his psychological shattering. The album begins with Kuplowsky intoning “colossal faith” which bounces around the stereo field in a cloud of echo, and it is the enormity of “faith” that centers both Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s collaboration and their inquisitiveness in the vast mysteries of our very being. Truth in Ingredient is not an essential nugget, but a bending of the light – it is the equivocal entanglement of how we are in nature as nature, but with a plea or prayer under our breath that marks our felt distance from what we are a part of: “carry me towards the mountains of my birth / returning to the nest / the silence of the earth.”

With I was born by the sea, Richie Culver brings to a close a period of intense introspection and emotional reckoning with a debut album that serves as both an optimistic statement of intent and a final glance back at the painful places it explores. Following recent work with Blackhaine and Pavel Milyakov, I was born by the sea picks up where Culver’s EP for Italian label Superpang, Post Traumatic Fantasy, leaves off, painting an unabashed portrait of contemporary malaise, detailing a life lived behind closed doors, pinned under the crushing weight of austerity, sapped of the strength to do anything other than gaze out to sea and all the grey possibilities it represents. Where Post Traumatic Fantasy saw Culver returning to his hometown of Hull after a period spent entangled in London’s relentless sprawl, his first full length project reaches further back to his formative years working in a caravan factory and going to raves in and among Hull’s outskirts. Unspooling like a fever dream, I was born by the sea is the anxious clutter of a racing mind spoken clearly, a stark reflection on how it feels to have too many ideas and too much time to act on them.

Though unquestionably a snapshot of a time of significant difficulty, Culver reflects on this period with tender empathy and pitch-black humour, stitching together unflinching observations from England’s neglected corners, ‘there’s more mobility scooter repair shops and bookies than there are bookshops,’ and devastating vignettes of everyday struggle, ‘tears on the tin foil’, with surreal depictions of industrial grit, ‘skimming stones in a small pond by the slaughterhouse’. His DIY approach to production stretches the rough sinew that connects these fragments of memory, a process he describes as using a paired back collection of synths and drum machines to the best of his ability, ‘but to the least of their capabilities,’ wringing out visceral sound with self-taught urgency. During the album’s most impressionistic passages it’s as though Culver has transposed past internal turmoil into powerfully resonant noise, the Sisyphean sonics of ‘Create A Lifestyle Around Your Problems’, which evokes in its concrète clatter and MRI machine barrage the sound of making the same mistake again and again, or the stuttered jumble of ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You,’ its garbled vocal modulation and frayed edges of distortion channeling the paranoia of somebody listening to muffled voices through thin plaster, climbing the walls of their bedroom with the curtains closed, a nervous breakdown in stereo.

In counterpoint to this glides the ever-present spirit of the dance floor, which haunts the record from the moment it is invoked in its first few seconds. Opening onto a sea wall of bright synthesis, the stuttering vocals and bass tone chops of ‘Nervous Energy’ dump us directly into post rave ecstasy, the echoing cry of a voice amplified by loudspeaker carrying the loose energy and surge of crowds moving in darkness. The incessant, dead phone line beep of ‘Pigeon Flesh’ builds to a pulse that suddenly swells into an anxious technoid surge, shapeshifting at lysergic speed into head shrinking audio hallucinations, a descent into the void of the present via machine music hypnosis. Even ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You’ summons the ego death drive of hardcore techno within its scorched textures, flickering indiscernibly between attritional noise and frazzled hardware stomp. Paying homage to both the parties of his youth and a countless succession of Sundays spent offering himself up within Berghain’s hallowed architecture, Culver’s experiments in addressing his formative relationship with rave provide an energetic glimpse at where he might take his sound next.

Between spikes of propulsive energy and grim mood pieces Culver returns to suspended passages of aching, glacial drift, the cold swell of the North Sea, accompanied by some of his heaviest testimonials. The gauzy ebb of ‘Daytime TV,’ its tumbling loops reminiscent of boats bobbing off a distant shore, sees the artist at his most checked out, slumped in front of his television, seven days a week. ‘I used to dream of doing something,’ he admits, ‘anything to get out of this town.’ ‘Love Like An Abscess’ pairs swirling currents of ambient shimmer with violent images of baseball bats lying next to beds and blood-stained mattresses, next to which Culver pleads in a desperate mumble, ‘let our love grow, like a broken abscess.’ Yet it’s with the album’s final word and title track that Culver reveals a glimmer of cautious optimism, a parting gesture of exposition and closure. ‘I knew I had to get away,’ he asserts, ‘so I did and I never looked back.’ What follows builds from a low throb, the flutter of a tiny heartbeat, to a resonant glow, embellished with unfurling synthetic burbles, oil rigs sparkling in the distance, golden light spilling across the sea. In reckoning with the place he had to escape, Richie Culver is now free to look towards the promise of something new, something hopeful.

12 of the heaviest early tracks by the master of rebetika music. Markos Vamvakaris sings from the hash dens of the Greek ports of the 1930s - mournful, poetic, bitter music of love and long nights. Rebetika is the sound of Greece and Asia Minor clashing amid civil war, mass population exchange, and the anarchy of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Poetic, mournful, and bitter, rebetika music was born in the hash dens (tekes) of Mediterranean ports, its verses whispered in Greek prisons before spilling out to the greater population in the 1930s, propelled in no small part by a series of remarkable recordings by Markos Vamvakaris. Markos, as he’s known to this day, sang heady, drugged out songs of love, pain and yearning at brothels, bars and hash dens in the port of Piraeus. He arrived as a youth in 1917, working as a skinner in a tannery. By the time he picked up the bouzouki around 1924, he was fully taken by the life of the manges, the lowest rungs of the Greek social ladder. They lived by their own code and in total opposition to the rest of the population, and rebetika was their music. On these twelve early tracks, recorded in Athens between 1932 and 1936, Markos was already a master of the bouzouki. His forceful, clean playing compliments his hoarse voice and his stunning rhythmic sensibility, the result of his years as a champion zebekiko dancer. Tracks build and spiral outward, his open-note drones and melodic lines drawing calls of ecstasy and encouragement from his fellow musicians. Translations of songs like “Hash-Smoking Mortissa” and “In The Dark Last Night” provide a glimpse into the life and language of the manges - Ottoman cafe music, the calls of displaced Greeks of Smyrna, the chaos and suffering of port life, it all comes through Markos’ songs. These recordings, incredibly rare and expertly remastered, mark the height of rebetika, the brief period between the music’s emergence on the recording scene in the early 1930s and government censorship of all lyrics starting in 1936. During the Axis occupation there was no rebetika recording, and though Markos had some hits in the years after the war, he never again attained this level. These are the dizzying, entrancing, and heaviest works of one of the great artists of the 20th century. Pressed on 160gm vinyl, includes full size 8 page booklet with historical notes, rare photos, and lyric translations.

Hate Propaganda's far too overlooked 2019 debut EP "World War 666" sees a much needed reissue on vinyl, remastered and enhanced by brand new artwork commissioned for the purpose by Xerox master P. Van Trigt. When it was first released on cassette tape back in 2019 by War Arts Productions, this war-torn debut offering of primeval warnoise by the mysterious Portuguese war criminals stood out immediately as a crown jewel debut for the genre and as one of the year's most definitive and underrated manifestations of extreme metal's most hateful and berserk fringe. Packing in nineteen minutes of absolute hatred, the annihilating MLP manifests as a nightmare hallucination of complete violence and negativity, evoking eons of perennial apocalyptic global planetary war and terror on the wings of its nefarious design of achieving maximum annihilation in the shortest amount of time possible. To harness this bleak pantheon of ruin, the Portuguese conquerors have assembled a weaponized and uncontrolled sonic chain reaction where grindcore, black metal, death metal and hardcore punk are all accelerated and instigated into an inescapable payload of death aimed straight at the vital sinews of humanity. A sonic maelstrom churned into shape by an onslaught of obscure violent riffs, psychotic leads and ominous laughter which, parallel to a pulverizing drum performance, emanates from oblivion with an antediluvian, negative aura. Comparisons to bands like Diocletian, Heresiarch, Tetragrammacide and Nuclearhammer will run abound, yet these would be only easy superficial conjectures as this is a manifestation of sonic extremism which dwells on a plain of excellence entirely its own. Its uniqueness transpires particularly in the maniacal drumming which underlines the band's hardcore and punk influences, and is exalted further by an unusually crystalline production and by a masterful onslaught of uber-audible riffs hiding behind nothing and seemingly going in the opposite direction of the homogenous and indiscernible sensorial smothering the genre usually opts to go in. Tracklisting: 1. World War 666 2. Neverending Mass Graves 3. Violent Nature of Human Annihilation 4. Welcoming the Nuclear War With Open Arms 5. Let the Sirens Signal the End of Times

Jon Neufeld and Martha Scanlan's unique alchemy on stage began ten
years ago when they first played Portland's Indie Roots festival Pickathon
together - It was an immediate friendship and musical connection that
has only deepened with time and years spent touring festivals and
venues across the country, the sense of adventure and improvisation in
the music becoming more fluid and expansive with each show, each
passing mile
In January 2020, when so much began to shift and live shows ground to a halt,
what began as a loose plan to work on a new record seemed to become a
musical journey of it's own, a necessary sort of refuge. They began passing
songs and ideas back and forth from their respective homes/studios; Martha in
Western Montana and Jon in Portland Oregon, often in the early hours before the
world was awake, often waiting to listen to the track until tape was rolling, almost
as though the improvisational live interaction onstage was occurring over time
and space, in slow motion. The result is a continuing collaborative project in
motion, an unfolding story. Welcome to the first mile-post, "Last Stars First Light"

Written and recorded between 1972 and 1982 in Western Oregon, Back to the Woodlands is a previously unreleased, and nearly lost, album made by Ernest Hood during the same era as his near mythical album Neighborhoods . A visionary combination of field recordings, zithers, and synthesizers, Back to the Woodlands offers an unprecedented depth of access to this singular artistic mind. Born into a musical family, Ernest Hood began a promising career as a jazz guitarist during the 1940s, touring internationally with his brother Bill Hood and the saxophonist Charlie Barnet , before contracting polio in his late twenties. The disease left Ernest unable to play the guitar and confined him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. It also forced him to adapt and innovate around his musical practices in the face of adversity; Hood's value of sound matured with a remarkably democratic and nonhierarchical approach and application. Taking up the zither, a less physically-demanding stringed instrument to the guitar, embarking upon the unprecedented process of incorporating field recordings into his work as early as 1956, and eventually discovering the synthesizer, Hood's music became imbued with optimism and subtle cultural critique. This ethos and technique - refined over the coming decades - would lay the groundwork for a sprawling body of radio work, mail order recordings for homebound listeners, and Neighborhoods , self- issued as a small vinyl edition in 1975. Where Neighborhoods , a nostalgic opus, drawing from a well of collective memory of the 1950s, is defined by traces of human activity, Back to the Woodlands leaves the modern world behind, delving into Hood's love for nature. Only recently discovered in his archives, the album dramatically expands his concept of "musical cinematography," imagistically triggering states of sensory memory from within its zither and synthesizer melodies, intertwined with field recordings made during Hood's extensive travels throughout Oregon. If Neighborhoods is a retreat into the gauzy joys of a romanticized past, Back to the Woodlands is an immersion in the timeless sanctuary of the natural world. A fascinating counterpoint to its predecessor, Back to the Woodlands brings us even closer to Hood's belief in the transportive qualities of sound; that field recordings could serve as a vehicle for the imagination and liberation, particularly for those with similar mobile disabilities as his own. Across the album's twelve compositions, the rippling instrumental harmonics - shifting between abstraction and playful melody - fold so seamlessly into the birdsong, bubbling brooks, and other environmental ambiences, that they often give the impression of having been recording within the landscapes toward which they whisper. Falling somewhere between the immersive calm of healing music and New Age, the creative field recording practices of sound ecologists world building for Folkways, and the jazz infected ambiences during Obscure / Editions EG's highest heights, Back to the Woodlands sculpts an singular proximity of music for its moment; a form of ambient sonic realism that draws the consciousness toward its surroundings as much as within. Working closely with his estate to maintain his original vision, Freedom to Spend has restored and remastered this never before released, lost masterpiece by Ernest Hood from the original tapes. Ernest Hood's Back to the Woodlands will be issued on vinyl, as well as on CD in combination with its contemporary Where the Woods Begin , with new liner notes by Michael Klausman . On behalf of Ernest Hood and Freedom To Spend, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Oregon Wild, an organization dedicated to protecting and restoring Oregon's wildlands, wildlife, and waters as an enduring legacy for future generations.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Uri Katzenstein’s Audio Works, produced in collaboration with Holon’s Centre for Digital Art. Spanning sculptural installation, performance, video art, and many other media, Katzenstein’s absurdist, poetic, and often hilarious work made extensive use of sound and music. This, however, is the first release dedicated to the artist’s audio work, collecting 28 tracks produced between the early 1980s and 2017. Compiled from dozens of hours of recordings left uncatalogued (and in some instances unheard) at the artist’s death in 2018, these four sides are a treasure trove, offering a captivating glimpse into a uniquely uninhibited creative practice. Predominantly recorded alone, with some contributions from regular collaborators such as Ohad Fishof on the later pieces, many of these tracks stem from Katzenstein’s time living in New York in the 1980s. Feeding on the cross-pollination of post-punk energy, radical art practice, and new media possibilities that characterised the New York scene at this time, many of Katzenstein’s recordings squeeze multilayered vocal experimentation into synth-based miniatures with a distinctively pop twist, their forms ruptured with anarchic bursts of free-form electronics, sounds from self-built instruments, and field-recorded snatches of the outside world. Katzenstein’s electronic production calls up touchstones of skewed 80s art pop like Laurie Anderson, Ambitious Lovers, and Scritti Politti, but imbued with DIY directness and economy of means. The arrangements of synths, percussion, and noise elements are invigoratingly raw and, at times, almost austerely minimal. On ‘Intermission’, thick distorted chords accompany a wandering portamento melody, inhabiting the wayward carnival space of Roedelius’ most unhinged efforts. Many of the tracks centre on Katzenstein’s multi-tracked vocal performances, often moving between multiple languages, (most commonly English, German, French, and Hebrew). A bewildering range of vocal approaches are present on these pieces, from sweet wordless harmonies to hammed-up growls and monastic recitations. On ‘Skin O. Daayba – Complex Habits no. 3’, improvised resonance singing against a backdrop of echoing electronics and radio snatches. ‘Half Monk Half Herring’ layers multi-lingual syllabic fragments, crossing sound poetry techniques with melodic invention in a way rarely heard outside of Caetano Veloso’s Araçá Azul. On ‘Attempt to Raise Hell’, Katzenstein’s distorted voice spits out streams of alliterative nonsense (‘the hemlock of Henry, he was a hermit…purple pumpkin pulsates to pops’), while on the hilarious ‘Eric’, Katzenstein appears to instruct a small boy simultaneously in basic French and German conversation. On ‘Chicken’, vocal harmonies accompany the pecking and clucking of the titular fowl. Moving from bent, outsider synth pop to snatches of Jo Jones-esque automated instrumental clang and absurdist linguistic experiments, these are far more than footnotes to an artist’s gallery works. Accompanied by extensive, beautifully written liner notes by Roee Rosen and the little information that exists on the individual tracks, Katzenstein’s Audio Works inhabits an outer fringe of DIY pop and sonic experiment reminiscent of Pascal Comelade or Die Welttraumforscher, where accessible forms convey radical interrogations of song, word, and sound.

`Astro-Darien' is a 26-minute sonic fiction about the break-up of Britain, narrated by synthetic Scottish voices and framed as an eponymous video game. It is the second release on Hyperdub sub-label Flatlines; a dark green 10" in triple gatefold sleeve, with artwork by Kode9's long-time collaborators Lawrence Lek and Optigram, presented as a limited edition of 500 copies. From a Caledonian heart of darkness to a supernova Scotia? The documentary fiction spirals between the role of the catastrophic Darien Scheme in the late 17th century in the founding of the UK, when Scotland failed to colonise part of present-day Panama, and the contemporary disintegration of the Union. In a somewhat wild extrapolation of the race to become the Scotland's first vertical satellite launch station currently playing out between Sutherland Space Port and the Shetland Space Centre, independence is speculatively framed as an exercise of escapology, a jailbreak and exodus to an orbital space habitat, with all the risks and dangers that entails. The loose plot follows a game designer from the fictional `Trancestar North' company who, in attempting to lift the dark spell cast by Darien, models a counter-future by ingesting cosmism, the history of racial capitalism and the demise of Empire into T-Divine, the geopolitics simulator of the game engine. She follows the Brexit algorithm as it runs to its logical conclusion. Initially conceived as an audio essay for diffusion on François Bayle's 50-speaker Acousmonium for INA-GRM in Paris in March 2020, but subsequently postponed by the pandemic, `Astro-Darien' first surfaced as a three-screen A/V installation on the dance floor of Corsica Studios in June 2021, finally reaching the Acousmonium the following October. In July 2022, an instrumental rhythmic version entitled `Escapology' was released on Hyperdub. A live A/V set relating to the `Astro-Darien' game universe will debut at Unsound Festival in October 2022.

Human Remains follows Creatures of the Deep and Black Sarabande as the final installment of a trilogy of piano based recordings by Robert Haigh for Unseen Worlds. The trilogy marks the end of the late era of solo albums by Haigh before he steps away from music production. The title, Human Remains, was initially based on a painting of the same name by Haigh that is suggestive of an ancient structure resolute in the wake of overwhelming forces. As a metaphor for our current times, it could be interpreted as human frailty in the face of nature's unyielding dominion. Conversely, it could represent the persistence of human spirit and resourcefulness in the midst of catastrophe and upheaval. The album opens with 'Beginner's Mind' - a semi-improvised motif develops into an impressionistic refrain. This is followed by "Twilight Flowers" and "Waltz On Treated Wire" - intimate, monochrome piano portraits. Later tracks such as "Lost Albion" and "Signs Of Life" build on skeletal piano motifs with subtle electronic washes, textures and field sounds. The album ends with the elegiac "On Terminus Hill" where a stately piano refrain explores a series of sparse harmonic variations evoking a sense of closure.

"Abhorrent Abomination', der Name des Debüt-Openers der Deather Autophagy, bedeutet frei übersetzt "abscheuliche Abscheulichkeit". Ein ziemlich zutreffender Begriff für ihre Musik, doch rein im positiven Sinne. Die Growls von Andy Swarthout sind stets etwas im Hintergrund verankert und sorgen somit für eine etwas surreale Atmosphäre. Die Gitarristen Justin Yaquinto und Kevin Miller hauen neben Doom-angehauchten Düster-Riffs auch ziemlich groovige, fast schon an Pantera erinnerte Rhythmen raus ('Beneath The Moss, Between The Roots'). Auf einer Spielzeit von rund 33 Minuten kommt daher wenig Langeweile auf. Im Titel-Track entscheiden sich die Herren aus dem amerikanischen Oregon für ein langsam schlürfendes Outro, welches durch seine Behäbigkeit an Brutalität gewinnt - die Kirsche auf der Torte sind die Slayer-Soli gen Ende des Songs. Die runde und kraftvolle Produktion von Billy Anderson (unter anderem Sleep, Neurosis, Eyehategod) sorgt für ein angenehm deftiges Sound-Erlebnis..." (Metal Hammer)

"Nach nur einem Demo heizen die Portland-Deather AUTOPHAGY mit ihrem Debüt "Bacteriophage" mächtig ein. Das Quartett spielt düsteren Death Metal, der extrem basslastig aus den Boxen dröhnt und tempomäßig zwischen Geholze, Uffta-Rhythmen und doomigem Geschrote hin und her pendelt. Die pechschwarzen, Lava-artigen Arrangements erinnern an Bands wie Incantation, Portal oder Immolation. Wenn´s abgeht und das Tempo etwas flotter wird, scheppert es in alter Carcass-Manier. AUTOPHAGY liefern mit "Bacteriophage" ein solides Debütalbum ab, das man als Fan genannter Bands durchaus mal anchecken sollte." (Rock Hard)
Weitere Formate

‘Astro-Darien’ is a 26-minute sonic fiction about the break-up of Britain, narrated by synthetic Scottish voices and framed as an eponymous video game.

It is the second release on Hyperdub sub-label Flatlines; a dark green 10” in triple gatefold sleeve, with artwork by Kode9’s long-time collaborators Lawrence Lek and Optigram, presented as a limited edition of 500 copies. From a Caledonian heart of darkness to a supernova Scotia? The documentary fiction spirals between the role of the catastrophic Darien Scheme in the late 17th century in the founding of the UK, when Scotland failed to colonise part of present-day Panama, and the contemporary disintegration of the Union. In a somewhat wild extrapolation of the race to become the Scotland’s first vertical satellite launch station currently playing out between Sutherland Space Port and the Shetland Space Centre, independence is speculatively framed as an exercise of escapology, a jailbreak and exodus to an orbital space habitat, with all the risks and dangers that entails.The loose plot follows a game designer from the fictional ‘Trancestar North' company who, in attempting to lift the dark spell cast by Darien, models a counter-future by ingesting cosmism, the history of racial capitalism and the demise of Empire into T-Divine, the geopolitics simulator of the game engine. She follows the Brexit algorithm as it runs to its logical conclusion.Initially conceived as an audio essay for diffusion on François Bayle’s 50-speaker Acousmonium for INA-GRM in Paris in March 2020, but subsequently postponed by the pandemic, ‘Astro-Darien’ first surfaced as a three-screen A/V installation on the dance floor of Corsica Studios in June 2021, finally reaching the Acousmonium the following October. In July 2022, an instrumental rhythmic version entitled ‘Escapology’ was released on Hyperdub. A live A/V set relating to the ‘Astro-Darien’ game universe will debut at Unsound Festival in October 2022.

In recent years ambient music has changed and encountering Jon Hassell's fourth world design has become easy. Most of the time there’s no feeling, no narrative, a nothingness of ideas through layers and layers of pastiche and boring bedroom music. This is not bashing. Just a reminder that sometimes the information trap delays an understanding of how good music really is.

“Cavalcante” is the new release by funcionário (born Pedro Tavares). You’ll find Jon Hassell in these eleven pieces. And yes, sometimes you’ll think about ambient music. Most of the time you’ll wonder about what is really happening. And why it's only now you’re hearing about this twenty-something musician from Setúbal, Portugal.

A little bit more than one minute into “En Garde!”, the opening track, one feels challenged by the idea that everything that was listened up to that moment was a false start. The piece abruptly stops, flips some digital sound, and restarts in a whole new direction. As this happens it becomes obvious we are in for a treat. Those two, three seconds create a sensation that everything happens in a moment that introduces you to funcionário's craft: delicate complex sounds infatuated with the idea of movement and the never-ending notion that there’s no dividers in the fourth world. Music can go beyond that.

As it moves forward – “Verde”, “Sierra” or “Publicidade Arco e Flecha” -, the album (his fourth) morphs around variations or perceptions of ambient / electronic / experimental music. And as the language evolves, it hints on how funcionário keeps stretching the boundaries of digital music as he wishes to advance to a more analog setup. In a way, he confronts foundational ideas while having breakthroughs and realizing he is at a top level. Justifiably ambitious, bright and discreetly edgy.

"Most of this record was created in the shadow of COVID and deep in the maw of Melbourne’s 2020 long winter lockdown. It is a meditation on the nature of connection.

Restricted to a 5km zone, one of the only people I saw outside my family during this time was my old friend and teacher, Ania Walwicz. We met in the overlap between our zones on the waterfront near Docklands to walk and talk on bright, cool winter afternoons. Those conversations became large in my thoughts when Ania suddenly passed away in September. Her voice was in my head as I worked on this music, trawling through threads of ideas, recordings made on my phone, and thoughts jotted down in notebooks.

Ania’s practice as a writer relied on ‘automatic’ processes. Her work was informed by everything she had read (a lot) but it was created in the manner of dreams. In a state where the subconscious might bubble up and the words arrange themselves into meaning bearing forms that resonate more than represent. I thought a lot about that as I made this music. I recorded everyday using the trumpet, my old Revox reel-to-reel, a couple of synths, a harmonium I lent from a friend, and whatever else was around. I worked mostly on just diving a little deeper each time I sat down to it.

Through the simple process of exhalation, I explored my relationship with the trumpet, which has been through so many twists and turns. I let the tones produced by my breath unfurl on long tape loops and degrade beyond recognition through pedal and plugin chains, until the only imprint of the initial gesture remained.

My process also involved long bike rides during which I’d listen to the work of previous days on ear buds, gliding through familiar streets made slightly strange by the absence of people and movement. Often my rides took me along Footscray Rd next to the port, and as I washed down towards Docklands past the old boat moorings I stopped pedalling to coast. The sounds from my darkened studio mingled with the low rush of air past my helmet, the click and whirr of my bike gears, a squalling bird, a whooshing car. And I remembered my last conversation with Ania. Sitting in the late afternoon sun, squinting against the light that raked across the water, she was telling me about all the different words for they have for blue in Polish and Russian, and how words don’t just change our perception of things, but also actually change the thing being perceived.

As I rode home that afternoon, I felt like anything was possible. "

Peter Knight

Robert Groslot's Concerto for Bass Guitar and Orchestra represents the
next step in the evolution of the bass guitar
Groslot's composition pushes the instrument to its technical limits, while creating
a unique symbiosis between the soloist and the orchestra. Although he may not
be the first composer to write for the bass guitar in a symphonic setting, Groslot
brings a level of artistry and sophistication to the composition that will continue
and accelerate the legitimation of the bass guitar within contemporary classical
music. "The idea of a concerto for bass guitar is something that I have been
dreaming of for decades. Since its invention, the bass guitar has firmly
established itself as an essential and integral part of practically every genre of
music. The bass guitar, as we now know it, was invented and produced by Leo
Fender starting in 1951. The more portable bass guitar, in comparison to the large
and unwieldy double bass, was capable of playing at higher volumes via
amplification and satisfied the new sonic demands created by the widespread
use of electrification in popular music. By increasing the overall scale of the
electric guitar and only using the lowest four strings (E, A, D, G), Fender gave birth
to a new instrument. Traditional double bassists could quickly adapt, with the
added benefit of more accurate intonation due to the frets. Hence the original
name: The Precision Bass. At the same time, guitarists could also become bass
players when called upon. As a result, many of the early bass guitarists began
their musical life as guitar players, with the most well-known example being Paul
McCartney of The Beatles.
The fact that the bass guitar had no direct lineage like the evolution of the piano
or violin over time, led to a variety of disparate playing styles without any
fundamental methodology. Unlike the more traditional instruments, the bass
guitar does not sit upon a foundation of centuries of proven methods and
established schools of playing. The evolution of the bass guitar has been a
patchwork of trial and error by active musicians. This has led to a plethora of
personal approaches and hybrid-styles, effectively leading to the rapid evolution
of bass guitar technique. Given its relatively young history, it is remarkable how
the bass guitar has grown from being an instrument taken up out of necessity, or
as an afterthought, to being as respected and vital to modern music as any of the
older, more established instruments." - Thomas Fiorini

Rare & unreleased 80's bangers from Sao Tome e Principe's most iconic singer !

Bongo Joe pursues their work with friend DJ Tom B and are sharing the fourth effort in their São Tomé & Principe series : “Recordar é viver”, the first volume of an anthology dedicated to the one and only Pedro Lima, , "A voz do povo de São Tomé" (the people's voice of Sao Tomé).

“Recordar é viver: Antologia Vol. 1” features some previously unreleased tracks and gives a comprehensive look into the discography of one of the islands’ biggest stars, known for his political outspokenness as much as for his soft voice, delicate rumbas, and high-energy puxas.

With his band Os Leonenses he built a brand new genre around the strong rhythms and infectious energy of Sao-Toméan Samba Socopé ("only with the feet” in Portuguese), but with the influence of Congolese soukous, Cape Verdean Coladeira, elements from French West-Indies Cadence/Compas, and Brazilian Afoxé, it soon developed into the infectiously danceable style known as “puxa”. The band kept playing together up until Pedro’s death in 2019, performing at large events around the islands and on the continent.

But Pedro shined also on his own. Alone, he demonstrated his compositional skills and ability to balance the band’s powerful rhythm section with São Tomé & Principe’s harmonic backing vocal traditions, creating strong, dance floor ready puxas or melodic, delicate rumbas.

Pedro Lima died in 2019, leaving behind the 23 children he fathered, with thousands of mourners accompanying him to his final resting place. The public funeral, paid for by ex-president Pinto da Costa, was one of the biggest the islands have ever seen. Lima, "O cantor do povo” (“The people’s singer”), was buried with his wireless microphone, so his powerful voice would always be heard.

Renowned fiddle player and tireless musical adventurer Sam Sweeney
returns with the passionate, raw and expressive new album 'Escape That'
The record ties together the threads and footpaths of all of Sam's musical loves;
an honest and fearless expression of himself, combining pop hooks and
aesthetics with his pioneering work in the world of traditional dance tunes.
'Escape That' simultaneously presses the reset button on what a folk record
should sound like while marking a major stride forward for Sam into the world of
composition. Written without ever touching the violin, Sam retreated to his attic
during the lockdowns of 2020-21 and created over twenty pieces of
music. Composed almost entirely on synths and guitars, with snapshots of loved
ones and memories as inspiration in a time of isolation, he devised a way of
writing where he'd lay down a chord sequence and then record an improvisation
over the top. On listening back, anything that could be considered a hook would
be kept, everything else was deleted and tracks developed by linking the hooks
together to create dance tunes. Sam then translated the melodies back to the
fiddle, an instrument of which he is considered a modern master. Nominated four
times, and winner in 2015, of Musician Of The Year at the BBC Radio 2 Folk
Awards, Sam has been at the forefront of the revival in English music for the last
fifteen years.
He is a veteran of the mighty Bellowhead, former and inaugural Artistic Director of
the National Youth Folk Ensemble, a founder member of ground- breaking trio
Leveret as well as a passionate and experienced educator. He has collaborated,
recorded and performed with The Full English, Eliza Carthy, Martin Carthy, Jon
Boden, Fay Hield and Emily Portman as well as creating his own theatre
production Made In The Great War.