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As it celebrates its 50th anniversary, Bill Withers' Still Bill remains true to its title – and stands as the greatest male-fronted soul album not made by a singer named Marvin, Al, Sam, James, or Ray. Though the saying "keeping it real" did not exist in popular parlance when Withers released his sophomore effort on Sussex Records, no words better capture the music's approach, mindset, and value. Every facet of Still Bill radiates honesty, truth, and emotion.

These characteristics – along with Withers' strong singing, hybrid arrangements, and deceptively simple songwriting – have allowed the album to endure to the point where it sounds as fresh today as in 1972.

After rising into the Top 5 of the Billboard Album charts and attaining gold status within a year of release, Still Bill has long been evaluated not by sales – but according to its merit, spirit, and agelessness. Included by The Guardian on its "1,000 Albums to Hear Before You Die" list (2007) as well as in Tom Moon's 1,000 Recordings to Hear Before You Die book (2008), its contemporary standing as one of history's most venerated soul efforts eclipses the positive reception it enjoyed in the early ‘70s.

Still Bill walks the same hallowed ground as What's Going On, Call Me, Night Beat, and Genius + Soul = Jazz. Like those landmarks, Still Bill plays with a mix of consistency, effortlessness, and complexity that rewards repeat listening and transcends categorization.

In combining four of the era's predominant styles – Philly soul, sweaty funk, Southern-reared blues, acoustic-based folk – and melding them with standout production borrowed from both minimalist affairs and sophisticated singer-songwriter albums, Still Bill occupies a distinct universe.

Its rhythmic fare is equally laidback and invigorating; relaxing and rollicking; eloquent and muscular; soft and tough. Withers' calm, self-assured voice hovers above it all, doubling as a warm blanket that adds comfort and grace to lyrics steeped in maturity, perspective, and compassion.

Withers' balanced outlook on human desires, needs, and situations stem from his own existence as a former blue-collar employee who believed his time as a musician would soon end. That grounding forever separates Withers from other contemporary soul greats – and stamps Still Bill with a conversational nature and egoless approachability.

"I mean look, I'm really a factory worker," said Withers in 1972. "That's a real job." There's that word again: real. The songs on Still Bill are tethered to modesty and actuality, wedded to a belief in simplicity, and connected to universal truths that link us all – independent of our economic or social standing. No track better exemplifies those principles than "Lean on Me," a feel-good paean to brotherhood and community that hit No. 1 on the pop and R&B charts en route to becoming a mainstream staple.

Withers approaches the plainspoken insight on "Lonely Town, Lonely Street" and heartbreaking vulnerability of "I Don't Want You on My Mind" with similar sincerity and straightforwardness. His proclivity for authenticity extends to the record's other big hit: the sexual, funk-laden "Use Me," which reached No. 2 and reflects the singer's everyman persona. It's an identity couched in keeping it real, the very inclination that ultimately led Withers to retire in the mid-'80s rather than bend to industry pressures or risk credibility.

That commitment to truthfulness and realism helps make Still Bill feel as unaffected as the air we breathe. Looking back on "Lean on Me" years later, Withers said it seemed like "something that was there before I got here" – the kind of song that could be 100 or 10 years old, or one we encounter anew 10 years into the future. The same can be said for every note on Still Bill.

Free-roaming French techno talent Angioma lands on Lady Tazz's Mind Medizin with a new single that comes remixed by the legendary Kaiser, Fixon and Toru Ikemoto.

Angioma does it all from peak time and hypnotic techno to jacking house, all with his own signature exotic twist. He is currently Berlin-based and has released on Made of Concrete, but also co-runs with BLANKA the Room Trax label and Room Lab, contemporary local art and networking space. With increasingly high-profile sets in clubs like Egg London and Anomalie Berlin, Angioma is an ever more crucial part of the modern techno landscape.

The brilliant 'Unusual Suspect' is darkly seductive with its high-pressure techno rhythms and silky synth lines. Pulsing keys bring late-night hypnosis, and the icy hi-hats draw you in further to this shadowy and tunnelling groove. It's a warm, Mills-inspired sound that is stylish and dynamic.

The A Side also features a heart stopping Detroit infused remix courtesy of Mexican based Fixon (part of the Illegal Alien crew). On the flip and Gianluca Caiati aka Kaiser has been tearing up the techno scene for 15 years. His superb remix pairs things back but the pummeling, rubbery drums remain the focal point as whip-snapping snares lash about up top, incendiary hi-hat pressure grows, and the sleek synths intensify the trip. Finally, Japanese Techno hero Toru Ikemeto delivers an off-kilter slice of driving take on the original.

Vargmal Records is an independent record label and multidisciplinary platform founded by Gent Gjonbalaj. Operating from Prishtina, Kosovo, the imprint publishes hypnotic compositions of various forms, exploring the realms of electronic music and beyond. The label's debut release marks the birth of an initiative started several years ago, reflecting on a process of growth, research and refinement.

Conceived as a foundation record, the 'Classics' EP demonstrates Vargmal's concept and overall spirit. The Italian pioneer Leo Anibaldi inaugurates the label featuring two cuts on the A-side, originally produced in the early 1990s--'Muta 5' and an as yet unheard version of 'Endurance 4'--replete with Anibaldi's signature sound programming and high-octane output. On the flip, the torch is passed to another Italian master, Donato Dozzy, who takes them to another level with his peculiar and precise remix treatment. Where Anibaldi paves the way for a possible future, Dozzy applies a modern touch to the same fundamental approach--a balancing act that shows a spectrum within the conceptual framework from two different points in the continuum, transcending any individual style or place in time.

Selected by their ability to extract the full potentiality of the sound, the tracks on this release reflect a minimalist approach that is inherently resourceful and discerning, whilst maximizing effect and impact. The efficiency of the sound can be heard in the stripped-back elements, practical arrangement and execution of the creative idea. 'Muta 5' opens the EP, a throbbing mass of pressure cooker action, continuously building tension with rippling percussion lines and syncopated beats. Ahead of its time in 1993, 'Muta 5' has a raw, driving energy and commanding authority. Dozzy reworks it into a tighter, linear forma--whilst retaining the angst of the original, he applies new synth motifs and notches the speed down for extra poise. 'Endurance 4' (Version II) is a tribal workout with hallmarks of the classic Italian deep techno sound. With arching drones, chugging rhythms and dramatic narratives, 'Endurance 4' presents an idiosyncratic style and emotive character which later became the model for this sound. Dozzy's hypnotic faculty shines through on the remix, a polished re-run that elaborates on the ominous melodic theme, and lifts the sound majestically to a gliding altitude--marking the end of this record and the beginning of Vargmal's journey.

HAUKE FREER'S latest offering includes two warm and moody original cuts plus an intense, bass heavy MATTHIAS REILING Remix - is that really you, SESSION VICTIM? While the duo's records usually strike a chord with a somewhat broad audience, Freer's solo output never tries to cater to the House Music masses. In fact, it feels very much tailored to please an acquired taste. ONE TINY UNIVERSE is a case in point, built upon a steady but wonky drum groove and a brizzling, retro, sci- kind of pad, eventually leading the song into an array of synth melodies that will reward you with discovering new things when listening repeatedly - showing Hauke's ability to subtly combine little bits and pieces into something that effortlessly outgrows the sum of its parts. Moving on to the ip, Reiling stripps the title track off it's warmth and beauty and replaces them with a tougher
drumset and a pressure heavy UK style bassline. You'll be reintroduced to Freer's synth work eventually, but in a less
fairytalish and, well, slightly hostile environment. MMMMM is the closing cut of the EP, a composition just as bare and raw as it feels soothing and gentle - like.... let's say beans and rice over a campre on a cold night under the starry sky of a far away tiny universe in the ngernail of some other giant lifeform.

Family Jubilee III – Part 1 is the first part of a fabulous overview into Meanders momentum – featuring two club-oriented tracks from Christopher Ledger + Pressure Point and Pîrvu, and a gorgeous downtempo track from Sublee.

3rd Edition, Black Version!

Curtea Veche celebrates its 10th release with this stunning 10' by Pressure Traxx boss Einzelkind & and Point of view head honcho Giuliano Lomonte, There will be a very limited amount of the Splatter effect vinyl and the rest will be black !

Played by Franco Cinelli , Raresh , Cesar Merville , Suciu, Lorenzo chiabotti & More

Pressure is the medium of wind players. Wind instruments all sound thanks to pressure differentials, whether that’s the rush of wind over a lip plate or a steady, buzzing exhalation through pursed lips. Ka Baird and Chris Ryan Williams (HxH) are wind players well- schooled in the power of using pressure and movement to amplify the mystery of an invisible force animating a metal tube. They augment their instruments, flute and trumpet respectively, with electronics, sometimes obscuring the acoustic sound source, sometimes making it hyperreal. Flutters of lip and tongue slither over the listener’s ear, and sustained tones become a dense fog, pushing on other kinds of visceral, emotional pressure points.

On Enthalpy, Baird and Williams’ first album as a duo, the energy they conjure feels barely contained, the pressure built up to a breaking point before spilling out in multiple directions at various speeds. They borrow the title from thermodynamics, referring to the total energy of a system based on its pressure and volume. The music flies out in bursts; it seeps and oozes, flows with intention. It is an incredibly rhythmic work without any hint of meter, full of sounds that punctuate with the thud of a dart hitting a bullseye. Williams’ capability to conjure swirling atmospherics, as well as his remarkable ability to pull fragments of melody from the haze, fit puzzle-like into Baird’s exclamations and the eruption of electronics that often dovetail them. The duo draws on tones from nearly the entire range of human hearing, from nimble but bulbous throbs of sub-bass to pinprick flickers of ultra-high end.

The sessions that produced Enthalpy were completely improvised, showcasing a degree of mind-meld that belies each participant’s thrill at approaching the unknown. This isn’t a casual conversation, but an omnidirectional tangle that ties and reties itself into new knots as the album progresses. Williams and Baird have both become ubiquitous presences throughout the New York City experimental music communities, collaborating with innumerable others and learning how their unique approaches work in tandem with similarly expansive thinkers and players. Even in the album’s most spacious moments, there’s a tension between the feeling of being unmoored and yet completely locked in, like the abyss is just one more river to cross. They ford it together before moving on to the next idea in lock step.

For the listener, Enthalpy is often felt in the body as much as it reverberates within the ears. We’re tossed from side to side, made to shoulder the impact of detonating electronics, absorbing these sounds with the feet, gut, and crown. Baird reaches into the back of their throat for guttural growls, and we can almost feel the scratch. As we tread the border of the synthesthetic, it's a reminder of the physical nature of sound, that the space between our ears and the speakers is its own enthalpic system of energy conduction. Move with it, let it move you, and see how it feels.

Some recordings herald the future in ways that are impossible to see in real time. Teodros Makonnen With His Organ (ቴዎድሮስ መኮንን ከኦርጋኑ ጋር), by the artist Teodros Makonnen, also known as Teddy Mak, is one of those. Today, electronic sounds, synthesizers, and digital production are taken for granted in Ethiopian music, but in the early 1980s, they were novelties that polarized opinion. Even to this day, the story of Teodros Makonnen’s legacy has never been properly told. He played a decisive role in defining the sound of the digital era of Ethiopian music that emerged in the 1980s and beyond, both as a keyboard player and as a producer, songwriter, performer, and sound designer.

Ethiopian music was at a crossroads in the early 1980s. Much like music in the rest of the world, technology and automation heralded either a quantum leap in musical development or the annihilation of musicianship, depending on who you’d ask. The changes were incremental nonetheless, but with the benefit of hindsight one can clearly see that the changes meant different things in different contexts. Drum machines and electric organs came to replace many hotel bands because, all of a sudden, one musician could control drums, melody, and accompaniment. Teodros was one of the first musicians in Ethiopia to explore the possibilities this opened up.

Teodros’ father, Captain Makonnen Beri, was a chief pilot at Ethiopian Airlines and a music enthusiast at that. This would prove important to his development, as Makonnen brought back a piano from Germany, which would lead to the first steps in Teodros’ long musical career. Captain Makonnen’s work as Head of Flight Operations and as a pilot exposed him to the wider world that was far from commonplace for most Ethiopians. In a house where music captivated the whole family, the piano gave Teodros’ talent an outlet. Not only was a piano at home rare in Ethiopian households, his father also brought an Indian teacher to their home to teach Teodros and his brother, Captain Samuel Makonnen, music theory (solfeggio or ear training) and piano. Teodros and his youngest brother, the late great Dereje, a member of both the legendary Ibex Band and the Ethiopian reggae group Dallol, took up music from that point onward, with Teodros beginning to develop his proficiency at the age of eight. His father encouraged him to practice tirelessly at home, and Teodros later received musical schooling at the German School in Addis Ababa.

His obvious talent led to studies and formal education at the Yared School of Music, followed by continued studies in American jazz at Northern Virginia Community College in Virginia. Teodros cut his teeth professionally in his mid-teens, not only as a keyboardist, but also as an arranger for the Wabi Shebelle and Dahlak bands in the 1970s. He mastered electronic sequencing early, rising to prominence through the midnight recording sessions held during the military curfew. The pressures imposed by the curfew required precise and disciplined recordings, and Teodros delivered just that. This, in turn, led to collaborations with iconic artists such as Mulatu Astatke, Aster Aweke, Menelik Wossenachew, Tilahun Gessesse, Mahmoud Ahmed, and Alemayehu Eshete.

In those days, he sat in as a keyboardist with the Dahlak Band when Dawit Yifru took a hiatus to study in Russia, and also with the Ethiostar Band. He secured a residency at the Wabi Shebelle Hotel with the Shebele Band, together with Zelalem Tadese (drums), later succeeded by Elias Bekele, Mulugeta Hailu (bass), Teferi ‘Bibisha’ Mengesha (guitar), Kumelachew G/Selassie (trumpet), and Teshome Deneke (saxophone). A friendly competition developed between the bands associated with the Ras Hotel (the Ibex Band), Ghion Hotel (the Dahlak Band), and Wabi Shebelle Hotel (the Shebele Band). The music scene at Wabi Shebelle saw teenagers commanding the spotlight in an industry otherwise dominated by musicians of an older generation.

At the Wabi Shebelle Hotel, Teodros met a diplomat from Saudi Arabia and later visited him at his home in Addis Ababa, a meeting that had unexpected musical consequences. The man owned a Yamaha double-deck keyboard. That evening, they recorded Teodros Makonnen With His Organ (ቴዎድሮስ መኮንን ከኦርጋኑ ጋር) in one take. This recording, a cornerstone in the early digital sound of Ethiopian music, came about almost by chance, simply because Teodros got the opportunity. Traditional Ethiopian songs were cast in a wholly electronic style.

Once freed from backing duties, Teodros’ keyboards could explore dreamlike soundscapes that took Ethiopian music in new directions. Even though the cassette contained well-known Ethiopian songs, they were given highly original arrangements, performed on an electric organ with drum machine backing and rhythm patterns that left the listener with suggestive, lingering sounds. “Libesh Kabashen” (also known as “Anchi Bale Game”) and “Odu Gol Golesa” wrap you in the very stuff that dreams are made of.

Originally released on cassette only, this recording exudes a mystique that surpasses even some of the most obscure Ethiopian recordings of the day. It remained more or less unknown outside of Ethiopia until now. Some of the tracks, like “Addis Fikir,” are permeated with an almost naive buoyancy, free-floating sounds that lost contact with the ground the moment they were conceived. Others, like “Meche New Hageren Yemayew” and “Lelitu Alnega Alegn,” carry a moodier, quirkier timbre, with pulsating rhythms in the background. Yet even the darker pieces contain an unmistakable wave, something essentially Ethiopian. If most recordings of Teodros’s contemporaries at the time were teeming with atmosphere, his songs seem instead at home in the stratosphere, almost ethereal. Some of the music here could be filed under “lullabies,” were it not for the recurring, almost brooding feeling that engulfs the listener on the aforementioned tracks. You could easily be forgiven for drifting into a blissful haze as the music washes over you.

Up to the advent of electronic music production, Ethiopia was totally dominated by big bands on the one hand, and small groups on the other. The former were tied to large institutions such as the military, the latter emerged from the entertainment industry, in hotel bars and nightclubs. These groups were commercially driven, and bands ultimately had to foster a mercenary approach to employment, albeit not to the passion for music. In the light of this, Teodros’ musical legacy can be seen in two ways. On the one hand, he is a key player in Ethiopian music from the 1970s onwards, leaving an indelible mark through hundreds of compositions and arrangements, including soundtracks for numerous documentary films and advertisements for different companies. On the other hand, the way he and others employed electronics brought Ethiopian music onto a fork in the road.

The replacement of traditional instruments with electronic equipment was seen as impending doom by some. Others, like Teodros, saw new avenues for performance, production, and creativity. Just as later producers like Abegasu Shiota of Admas, Teodros was a trailblazer who opened paths that it took Ethiopian music as a whole more than a decade to rush into. The hotel scene had already been pushed toward electronic music by financial necessity and cost-cutting. Today’s revived global interest in Ethiopian music from the seventies and eighties, alongside a broader resurgence, has changed the reasons for using digital means of music production. They have become tools for musical dreaming. This is where the dreaming began.

After making waves in the underground with their first release, psychedelic techno explorations from Winkles, A Sky Full Of Numbers head to the shoreline with a five tracker of misty electronica from Japan’s The Rituals, the new collaboration between Tasoko and DOLTZ. Across acclaimed releases on Explore, Bitta, and Delsin, the duo have separately explored deep techno, ambient, acid house and IDM, showcasing innovative sound design and spacious, understated grooves. For AFSON, the duo apply their unique point of view at a lower tempo, pulling away from the peak time to deliver a shadowy journey through dewy electronics.
Opening transmission 503M feels like tuning into a damaged frequency somewhere beyond the cloud line. Misty lead synths slither through blown circuitry while buzzing sequences and short-circuiting percussion crackle against purring bass pressure below.
There’s an eerie electricity in the atmosphere, as if the track’s been exposed to too much heat and left glowing softly in the dark. From the opening bars, The Rituals instantly establish their ability to make techno feel both mechanical and hallucinatory.
Ugan sees the duo descend deeper into the haze. Reverb-drenched synth motifs hover like distant lights through thick fog while a propulsive dub bassline locks into loose electro-funk rhythms beneath. There are echoes of hauntological electronics and early IDM experiments here, but The Rituals avoid nostalgia entirely, steering the track instead towards something crepuscular and alive.
Stepping out of the shadows, Broken Frog Lamp pushes forward on a rolling rhythmic framework as melodies slowly force their way through layers of sea mist and static interference. Atmospheric without losing momentum, the track balances submerged emotional weight with hypnotic forward motion.
The mood softens but never dissipates on Salty Air, a damp and dewy excursion into dubbed-out psychedelia. Rainfall ambience, skittering stone percussion and swelling pads fold around sliding sub bass and filtered stabs, while jazzy cymbals and syncopated hats gently pull the track forward, as the condensation clings to the hardware.
Closing cut “Night, Castle, Reflection” drifts into darker territories, where redlining drums and pulsing low-end pressure throb beneath thick layers of saturated texture. Woozy synth work smears against tightly controlled rhythms, creating an immersive and slightly uneasy atmosphere that closes the EP at its most introspective point.
Taken as a whole, the EP transports you into the midnight hour, when the comforting embrace of stillness can easily nudge you towards hallucination, dissolving the boundaries between dream state and dancefloor hypnosis.

Manonmars’ 3rd album sees him at his most amorphous and psychedelic, at points sharper and laser focused, and at others more blurred and impressionistic than his previous records. Many of the core players remain the same, all of the production is once again handled by O$VMV$M (the duo of Neek and Amos Childs of Jabu) while Paulina Korobkiewicz (also of Young Echo) makes a return handling both the album’s cover artwork and contributing a series of diaristic field recordings and voice notes.

‘The project references movies, cartoons, fictional characters and video games, among other things. The album title is open to interpretation but all of these elements are forms of visual entertainment which have their own unique ability to transcend things like language barriers and cultural divides. The visual element is key because those details bridge the gap on a communicative level.’ - Manonmars

The album blends abstract, blurred braggadocio with more immediate personal details such as on ‘Volcanic Shield’ a posse cut of sorts featuring Bristol improv luminary Dali de Saint Paul and Franco Franco (½ of cyborg rap duo Kinlaw & Franco Franco) - where Mars recalls;

‘Memories of brighter days, happy meal hit the spot
Mum was spinning vinyl playing Super Ape or Pressure Drop
I would spend the weekend with the Turkish mandem on the block
single parent household, mum was studying or on the job
money came and went always was an on and off
made it back from school time to see what’s on the box’


The beat fades away to leave one of Korobkiewicz’s recordings of Mars’ mum talking about her life in London in the 80s, spending her money on reggae records as an ambient chord fades in like an echo of a jungle intro – stretching out as a link between generations of UK music.

The production by and large is brighter and more kinetic than earlier Manonmars records – with O$VMV$M drawing on everything from modern underground rap and drill through to jazz and acid ambient passages.

London is also a central character here, bustling and constantly shifting, either when bleeding in through field recordings, or as an ever-present backdrop in the lyrics;

‘I’m a fusion of Tippa Irie and Topper Harley
Hit the target like the black Atari
I dropped a tab now shit’s A Scanner Darkly
Got the munchies, Imma yam a sarnie
Pour the Wray and Ting like man at Carni
Exit Peckham Rye and turn left, walk past Hannah Barry
Get your (w)raps up like its January’

‘I've always considered London my home, despite spending some time in the South West of England too. My mum had been living in London for 25 years (...) That was a pretty big deal in some ways because it removed us from multicultural society during the period which overlapped with my teenage years. (...) I never got used to how quiet it was in the countryside (...) Bristol was the closest city to where we lived and it was through travelling there and making connections that I became involved in making music and playing gigs.’ - Manonmars

Mars’ practice as a painter (under his given name Jack Martyn Richardson) and photographer also loom heavy over the album, he cites Paul Verhoeven, Abdul Mati Klariwein and H.R Giger as influences – as well as Miles Davis, Drakeo the Ruler and DJ Rashad.

As with much of Richardson’s work the raps at times feel blurred to a point of almost inscrutability, creating a distance between the audience and himself. A process that ties into his visual work and the way he experiences the world as mainly abstract colour without his glasses. He explores this further in an ongoing visual collaboration with Korobkiewicz, ‘Fun and Games’ which serves as a visual archive of one of London's largest and oldest travelling fairgrounds.

‘I was diagnosed with very severe short-sightedness at the age of seven. I remember my early formative years as visually blurred. Some of my photography reflects this experience of partial vision and uncertainty, referencing memory and perception rather than fixed representation.’

Manonmars’ first public outing as a rapper was at a Young Echo radio event, broadcast shambolically from a practice room just off Jamaica street, Bristol in 2011, as much as things have moved on both stylistically and in terms of focus - strong links back to the city remain a key foundation throughout the collaborations and guest appearances.

‘I have no problem with being an outsider looking in. One of the things I enjoy about London is the anonymity (...) it's easy to be a stranger here when so much is happening. I feel like thats more valuable than people may realise.’

There's a tendency in metal to mistake aggression for honesty, volume for depth. To confuse the performance of darkness with its actual weight. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest, the new album from San Francisco-based post-black metal band Bosse-de-Nage, sidesteps this entirely. It’s the group’s most fully realized work yet, precisely because it refuses to be pinned down.

Bosse-de-Nage have been working with The Flenser for over fifteen years. They were one of the first bands the label ever partnered with and have the longest active relationship in the label's history. But unlike most bands who build momentum through constant touring and visibility, Bosse-de-Nage has largely existed apart from the music world's usual machinery. They've evolved on their own terms, in relative isolation, allowing the work to develop without outside pressure or influence. What began rooted in black metal anonymity has mutated into something that actively defies categorization. The aggression is still there, but it's no longer the point. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest finds the band treating emotions like physical objects, feelings with spatial properties. “No Such Place"" describes a space that can't exist but does anyway, somewhere between thought and location. ""Immortality Project"" examines infinite possibility not as promise but as problem, endless options collapsing under their own weight. These songs don't use metaphor to describe emotion. They make emotion into something you could theoretically touch.
Tracked by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Oathbreaker) at Atomic Garden East and mixed and mastered by Richard Chowenhill of Agriculture, Hidden Fires Burn Hottest was years in development, with some tracks beginning in 2018.

The long writing process offered time that most records don't get. Time to live with ideas, revise endlessly, to let structures settle. For the first time, lyricist Bryan Manning wrote everything in advance, creating a surplus to pull from rather than working under deadline pressure. The difference shows.
Coming off Further Still, an album built on constraint and economy, Bosse-de-Nage sought the opposite: sprawl, strangeness, fewer rules. Space for ideas to develop without rushing them. Dynamics that move through quiet as much as noise. Presence earned through atmosphere instead of volume. The record even includes ""Mementos,"" which might be considered the first love song the band has ever written.

Nothing here coheres into a theme. These are pieces pulled from low moments and private feelings made public through sound. The band has never been interested in positivity, in music that resolves cleanly or offers comfort. But bleakness doesn't mean humorlessness. There's something darkly funny running through much of it, even when it shouldn't be.
Hidden Fires Burn Hottest doesn't explain itself. It just insists: what you feel is as real as what you can see."

For some time now, followers of Field Medic have been piecing together clues about Floral Prince. The name has been mentioned in late night Twitter hints, secret YouTube leaks, teaser riddles, Instagram live sets, and standalone single drops. This unconventional approach paints a bigger picture for the 11-track project as a whole, set for release October 2nd from Run For Cover Records. Part mixtape, part album, part collection, part musical patchwork quilt, Floral Prince is the latest offering from Field Medic, aka the preeminent Bay Area freak folk artist Kevin Patrick Sullivan. It’s a reflection of his unique approach to songwriting and a creative drive that can’t be contained to the traditional album format. Field Medic’s songwriting rarely slows down; even after the release of his 2019 full-length fade into the dawn and the busy touring schedule that followed, Sullivan still found himself flush with new songs and ideas. As he attempted to earmark certain songs for his next release Sullivan began to chafe at the pressures of a follow-up album. Longing for the spontaneity of Field Medic’s earlier work, Sullivan found inspiration in what he calls the “full-time freestyle” mindset where he writes and records songs on the fly with a four-track, usually with a self-imposed limit of three takes. “This style lends itself to more off-the-cuff lyrics and recordings that communicate their point much clearer to my ears,” he explains. “It’s also fun.”

The process proved surprisingly satisfying, often capturing the diary-like nature of Sullivan’s songwriting more accurately than some of the music he’d been poring over. “The songs born from this method aren’t always ‘hits,’ he says. “But they feel much more important to me…closer to how I really feel.” Some of these charming homespun missives made their way onto the internet, spurring fans to follow the breadcrumbs towards these first glimpses into Floral Prince and the ever-expanding Field Medic mythology. “I realized the songs I was saving for another album were much less focused and effective than some of the freestyles I had been creating and subsequently leaking,” Sullivan says. “I think that’s because I really enjoyed the process of writing and recording the freestyles, whereas the ‘hits’ I was attempting to make were being approached as more of a chore.” Floral Prince officially began to see the light of day through a series of stand-alone singles released throughout early 2020 in tandem with episodes of Sullivan’s homemade webseries, the field medic show. To invite fans further into Field Medic’s unique world of achingly beautiful melodies and conversational lyricism, songs like the atmospheric ballad “better way” and the Alex Menne (pickleboy/Great Grandpa) collaboration “talkin johnny & june (your arms around me)” were shared alongside the YouTube show’s accompanying live versions. Other tracks—like rousing opener “-h-o-u-s-e-k-e-y-z-” and the longing “i want you so bad it hurts”—were repurposed from the fade into the dawn sessions to finally find a home on Floral Prince. Elsewhere “it’s so lonely being sober” exemplifies the unvarnished appeal of the full-time freestyle attitude. The song’s direct lyrics and single-take phone recording preserve the deeply personal storytelling, relatable details, and palpable emotions that make Field Medic’s work so intimate and enthralling.

Although Floral Prince is culled from several years of Field Medic songs, its 11 tracks have a sense of cohesion that can be attributed to Sullivan’s singular vision and willingness to allow the listener into his life. “These songs were written through different seasons of my life but they all share a common theme of quiet, nagging, yet somehow defiant insecurity,” he explains. “To hear them all grouped together reminds me that I’ve always felt more or less the same way, and have had the same obsessive tendencies my whole life that have often led to self-destructive behavior. Maybe this is catharsis.” In the end Floral Prince is actually many things at once: a snapshot of an artist shaking off the perceived boundaries of his medium; a document of years of Sullivan’s life preserved in musical form; the closing of one songwriting chapter and the start of another. Or perhaps as Sullivan puts it, “All songs have their day…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2026 REPRESS

Pure, Distilled Dub. Upholding Jamaica's Legacy As Well As Germany's Unequivocally Influential Dub Techno Spirit, Moonshine Recordings Proudly Welcomes Their Next Addition To The Roster. On The Controls For The 9th Full-length Album Release, A True-to-the-roots, All-analogue Musician: Another Channel. Having Put Himself On The Map With Releases On Soukah's Blacksoil Records, Bristol's Transient Audio As Well As On Australian Imprint Modern Hypnosis, It's Now Time For The Album Release, We've All Been Waiting For. No Computer Involved As Impeccable Arrangements And Analogue Reverberations Unfold. Live And Direct In The Original Dub Mixing Fashion, The Augsburg-based Artist Uniquely Transports The Sonic Characteristics Of Rhythm & Sound Into The Present Time.

Subtle Vinyl Crackles Gently Introducing Meditative Beats, 'run Dub' Sets The Pace. Keen Listeners Find Themselves Embedded In Lively Echoes And Reverbs, Left To Bask In Smooth, Sonic Contemplation. Engineered To Soothe The Soul, Timeless Foundation Sound. Intensified Groove Meets Low-frequency Pressure In 'amir Dub' Among Haunting Melodica Fragments. '(yes!) Badness' Unsheathes Its Off-kilter Swing, Vocal And Foley Samples Musing In The Distance - Further Showcasing Another Channel's Technical Prowess. Heavy Chord Stabs And Delicate Overdrive Counterpoint The Immense Scope Of Conjured Space In 'ael Na Dub', Concluding A Beautiful A-side.

Lush Chords Lure Us To The Flip-side - 'solid' Kicks Off With A Staccato Bass-line In The Midst Of Lavish White Noise Surges And Minimal Drums. Rooted In Endless Feedback Trails, Steadily Kept In Check. Previously Teased, The Mighty 'ethiopian Dub' Steps Through In Full Glory, Carried By Militant Drum Motion And Forceful Low-end. On A More Spacious Excursion, 'uranus' Takes A Brightly Lit Stroll Through The Analogue Dub Universe, Led On By Another Channel's Signature Groove Propulsion. Pointing Back Towards A-side, Prolific Dub Proponent Babe Roots Presents His Musical Qualities In A Monumental Remix Of 'run'.

Grammy award-winning titan of dance music Purple Disco Machine joins the illustrious list of Defected House Masters with a celebratory compilation. The German producer, DJ and global household name Tino Pointek, AKA Purple Disco Machine, is the blueprint for what makes a successful dance music artist in the modern age; respected on the underground scene while achieving major crossover success with remixes for the likes of Sir Elton John, Dua Lipa and Mark Ronson. The crate digging kingpin of house and disco first landed on Defected over a decade ago, and has since delivered remixes of iconic tracks like Fatboy Slim’s ‘Praise You’ and the London label’s top tracks including Shakedown’s ‘At Night’ and ‘Coma Cat’ by Tensnake – as well as striking originals like ‘Beat Fantasy’. From edits of the classics to remixes of the modern, as well as uplifting originals, Purple Disco Machine has birthed a distinct sound that is instantly recognisable, one that is not afraid to reference or not reference and is always bursting with joy. Across Defected presents House Masters: Purple Disco Machine, the full breadth of the iconic German selector’s sound is felt from the 2019 smash hit ‘Dished (Male Stripper)’ to deep cuts like his re-work of Fallout’s ‘The Morning After’ as well as remixes of legendary tracks like ‘Lola’s Theme’ by The Shapeshifters and Spiller’s ‘Groovejet’ featuring Sophie Ellis-Bextor. Defected presents House Masters: Purple Disco Machine is here to showcase the sound of a bona fide electronic maverick in full.

This first release inaugurates Sistema Infinito, a new platform by Sabla created as a space for a more continuous release flow and for exploring different angles within his sound. SI 00 sets the tone for a shifting direction while remaining connected to previous work.

The first track, Zerozero, shares its name with the release itself and reflects it sonically. An exercise in bass minimalism, defined by quasi-weightless low-end pressure and reduced, suspended form.

Punti leans closer to Sabla’s previous outputs, where skeletal drums and percussion wander throughout the 7 minutes.

Punto Uno and Punto Due sit on side B, creating 15 mins of atmospheric texture. They extend the conceptual axis of Sistema Infinito, where the same material resolves into different structural states.

All of these sounds operate as a starting point for forthcoming SI releases, creating a flux of recurring and evolving sounds and ideas.

2026 REPRESS

Pure, Distilled Dub. Upholding Jamaica's Legacy As Well As Germany's Unequivocally Influential Dub Techno Spirit, Moonshine Recordings Proudly Welcomes Their Next Addition To The Roster. On The Controls For The 9th Full-length Album Release, A True-to-the-roots, All-analogue Musician: Another Channel. Having Put Himself On The Map With Releases On Soukah's Blacksoil Records, Bristol's Transient Audio As Well As On Australian Imprint Modern Hypnosis, It's Now Time For The Album Release, We've All Been Waiting For. No Computer Involved As Impeccable Arrangements And Analogue Reverberations Unfold. Live And Direct In The Original Dub Mixing Fashion, The Augsburg-based Artist Uniquely Transports The Sonic Characteristics Of Rhythm & Sound Into The Present Time.

Subtle Vinyl Crackles Gently Introducing Meditative Beats, 'run Dub' Sets The Pace. Keen Listeners Find Themselves Embedded In Lively Echoes And Reverbs, Left To Bask In Smooth, Sonic Contemplation. Engineered To Soothe The Soul, Timeless Foundation Sound. Intensified Groove Meets Low-frequency Pressure In 'amir Dub' Among Haunting Melodica Fragments. '(yes!) Badness' Unsheathes Its Off-kilter Swing, Vocal And Foley Samples Musing In The Distance - Further Showcasing Another Channel's Technical Prowess. Heavy Chord Stabs And Delicate Overdrive Counterpoint The Immense Scope Of Conjured Space In 'ael Na Dub', Concluding A Beautiful A-side.

Lush Chords Lure Us To The Flip-side - 'solid' Kicks Off With A Staccato Bass-line In The Midst Of Lavish White Noise Surges And Minimal Drums. Rooted In Endless Feedback Trails, Steadily Kept In Check. Previously Teased, The Mighty 'ethiopian Dub' Steps Through In Full Glory, Carried By Militant Drum Motion And Forceful Low-end. On A More Spacious Excursion, 'uranus' Takes A Brightly Lit Stroll Through The Analogue Dub Universe, Led On By Another Channel's Signature Groove Propulsion. Pointing Back Towards A-side, Prolific Dub Proponent Babe Roots Presents His Musical Qualities In A Monumental Remix Of 'run'.

A four-track EP operating between tension and motion. Man in Static features three original tracks and a remix by Adrià from Cúpula Records, Barcelona. The record explores repetition, signal, and pressure, with the club as its transmission point. Written and prepared throughout 2025, the EP is released in 2026 as the first chapter of a series on the Mozali Records electronic imprint.

The EP was mixed by Taro Venn, aka Georj, keeping the sound close to its original form. Mastering was completed by Viceversa, preparing the record for club systems.

This first entry is intended to be played in full, end to end. Static on the surface, movement underneath.

The title Dillema refers to a state of tension, choice, and duality mirroring the track’s layered structure and driving push-and-pull energy. Shinedoe intentionally chose the alternative spelling “Dillema” simply because she liked how it looked better visually. The unconventional spelling became part of the track’s identity and attitude, reinforcing its independent and uncompromising character.

Dillema (Original – 2004)
Timeless Detroit-inspired techno, built on tension, groove, and raw momentum.

Dillema (Gregor Tresher Remix)
A driving techhouse interpretation, blending hypnotic rhythms with a sleek, modern edge.

Dillema (Alexander Kowalski – Pressure Point Remix)
A powerful, high impact techno version built for peak-time intensity.

With these new versions, Dillema once again proves its timeless relevance, reintroduced for a new generation while remaining deeply rooted in its original spirit.

Shinedoe is a driving force in the global techno scene for nearly three decades, known for her hypnotic grooves and uncompromising vision. Through MTM, she continues to push the boundaries of electronic music, releasing tracks that ignite dancefloors and evolve the genre.

Shaped from fragile, emotionally charged piano motifs that distort, disappear and transform into dense, cinematic textures, 'CANALS' is a debut that's finely matured, the result of years of friendship and growth. Italian artist Vanja Sturno and Montréal-based Belgian-Spanish composer Pablo Geeraert (aka Sanea Ima) have worked together extensively on various projects up until now, but 'CANALS' is their first official release as a duo. Having both studied music academically, the pair were eager to work more intuitively, so applied their well-honed set of skills to sound that, instead of fitting into a conceptual box, reflected more personal experiences.

Back in 2023, Geeraert travelled to Rome to support his friend at a difficult time and, during the trip, received some bad news of his own. The complicated feelings unconsciously surged through a series of delicate Ryuichi Sakamoto-inspired piano improvisations and a new project began to coalesce. They didn't realize it at the time, but once the record was finished, Sturno and Geeraert began to understand that the entire process had been a form a joint catharsis - a release of pressure. They were able to function so effortlessly and swiftly because they had already provided the space for each other to resonate emotionally and the music flowed from that point.

So the album's title, while remaining ambiguous, suggests its formation: a sequence of eight interconnected channels that feed a creative whole. On the first segment, Sturno and Geeraert's initial recordings can be perceived most nakedly, the melancholy, Satie-like phrases floating peacefully for a moment before the tranquility is agitated by stormy distortions and swelled into thick waves of harmony. The piano provides the record with its emotional anchor, offering focus and clarity as multi-dimensional noise wells up around it before inevitably dissipating, leaving gentle, unadorned sounds once again.

And the familiar instrument is reshaped into a wheezing artificial organ on the animated 'CANALS III', punctuated by percussive, tape-warped pitch fluctuations that seem to bite into its very essence. Gauzy acoustic granulations snowball into a powerful, bass-heavy crescendo on the fourth part, setting the tenor for the album's second half. But after the crushing 'CANALS VI', possibly Sturno and Geeraert's heaviest track, a brief tremolo-heavy vignette that ripples through experimental rock and ambient music's braided history, the duo clear the air with a jazzy diversion, introducing soft woodwind blasts as a palate cleanser before an epic, widescreen finale.

It's an album that's best absorbed as a whole, a vortex of ritualistic, rhythmic repetitions that Sturno and Geeraert appropriately refer to as "spiral listening".

Dänemarks Streetpunk-Aushängeschild HEROES 2 NONE liefern mit A WASTE OF TIME AND MONEY ihr bislang stärkstes Statement. Lauter, schärfer, kompromissloser. A WASTE OF TIME AND MONEY ist Streetpunk mit Haltung, Humor und Fäuste-hoch-Refrains. Produziert von Tue Madsen. Oi! lebt! Heroes 2 None ist eine Street-Punk-/Oi!-Band aus Aarhus, Dänemark, und reiht sich damit in eine lange Tradition von Bands dieser Art von dort. Geradliniger, unkomplizierter Sound, der einfach gehalten bleibt und dem Geist des Punk treu bleibt. Nenn es, wie du willst (Oi!, Street-Punk, Hardcore-Punk, Punkrock usw.) - wenn es gut klingt, dann machen HEROES 2 NONE es trotzdem, auch wenn es ein bisschen vom Genre abweicht. Die Bandmitglieder verfügen über einen reichen Erfahrungsschatz aus verschiedenen Bands wie The Zero Point, War Of Destruction, Skaloot, The Hoolies, The Guv'nors, The Outfit und Last Seen Laughing aus den letzten 35 Jahren. 180g transparent blue vinyl, 300 Stück ww, handnummeriert mit Einleger oder als CD im Digipak mit Booklet & Bonustrack.

Transformation, growth, and rebirth drive Ascent Effort, the latest release from Portland, Oregon trio Rhododendron. The title points upward, but not toward arrival. The record documents a period of change defined as much by instability as progress, where confusion and renewal unfold at the same pace.
Formed in 2019 while the band’s members were still in high school, Rhododendron’s Ezra Chong (guitar, vocals), Gage Walker (bass), and Noah Mortola (drums) set out to push their musical limits without regard for genre boundaries or audience expectation. For Ascent Effort, the band joined the roster of The Flenser, aligning with a label that has long championed artists who work in tension rather than comfort.

In the past seven years the trio has developed a sound rooted in technical precision and repetition. Drawing from the angular experimentation of underground rock in the 1980s and 1990s alongside elements of jazz, ambient, and progressive music, their compositions are deliberate with intensity. Riffs fracture and reform, rhythms lock into patterns only to break apart, and extended passages build pressure before shifting direction.
Performing regularly in Portland, the band has cultivated an intense and loyal local following. The live setting hardened the material. Songs grew heavier, sharper, more physical through repetition and high volume.

The material that became Ascent Effort was tested on tour before entering the studio. Written largely in sequence, the album traces a period of personal change and internal friction. Growth is not always clean; sometimes it grinds forward. Nothing resolves without cost. Confusion and strain do not sit outside the songs, they shape their architecture. That is what the band has accomplished with Ascent Effort, a work that is not always clean but well-shaped by struggle and growth. The Pacific Northwest lingers in the background of the record, its long winters and brief summers echoing the album’s shifts between abrasion and restraint. Ascent Effort does not offer catharsis in the traditional sense. It allows tension to remain. In that unresolved space, transformation takes form and a band in motion is revealed.

Transformation, growth, and rebirth drive Ascent Effort, the latest release from Portland, Oregon trio Rhododendron. The title points upward, but not toward arrival. The record documents a period of change defined as much by instability as progress, where confusion and renewal unfold at the same pace.
Formed in 2019 while the band’s members were still in high school, Rhododendron’s Ezra Chong (guitar, vocals), Gage Walker (bass), and Noah Mortola (drums) set out to push their musical limits without regard for genre boundaries or audience expectation. For Ascent Effort, the band joined the roster of The Flenser, aligning with a label that has long championed artists who work in tension rather than comfort.

In the past seven years the trio has developed a sound rooted in technical precision and repetition. Drawing from the angular experimentation of underground rock in the 1980s and 1990s alongside elements of jazz, ambient, and progressive music, their compositions are deliberate with intensity. Riffs fracture and reform, rhythms lock into patterns only to break apart, and extended passages build pressure before shifting direction.
Performing regularly in Portland, the band has cultivated an intense and loyal local following. The live setting hardened the material. Songs grew heavier, sharper, more physical through repetition and high volume.

The material that became Ascent Effort was tested on tour before entering the studio. Written largely in sequence, the album traces a period of personal change and internal friction. Growth is not always clean; sometimes it grinds forward. Nothing resolves without cost. Confusion and strain do not sit outside the songs, they shape their architecture. That is what the band has accomplished with Ascent Effort, a work that is not always clean but well-shaped by struggle and growth. The Pacific Northwest lingers in the background of the record, its long winters and brief summers echoing the album’s shifts between abrasion and restraint. Ascent Effort does not offer catharsis in the traditional sense. It allows tension to remain. In that unresolved space, transformation takes form and a band in motion is revealed.

Transformation, growth, and rebirth drive Ascent Effort, the latest release from Portland, Oregon trio Rhododendron. The title points upward, but not toward arrival. The record documents a period of change defined as much by instability as progress, where confusion and renewal unfold at the same pace.
Formed in 2019 while the band’s members were still in high school, Rhododendron’s Ezra Chong (guitar, vocals), Gage Walker (bass), and Noah Mortola (drums) set out to push their musical limits without regard for genre boundaries or audience expectation. For Ascent Effort, the band joined the roster of The Flenser, aligning with a label that has long championed artists who work in tension rather than comfort.

In the past seven years the trio has developed a sound rooted in technical precision and repetition. Drawing from the angular experimentation of underground rock in the 1980s and 1990s alongside elements of jazz, ambient, and progressive music, their compositions are deliberate with intensity. Riffs fracture and reform, rhythms lock into patterns only to break apart, and extended passages build pressure before shifting direction.
Performing regularly in Portland, the band has cultivated an intense and loyal local following. The live setting hardened the material. Songs grew heavier, sharper, more physical through repetition and high volume.

The material that became Ascent Effort was tested on tour before entering the studio. Written largely in sequence, the album traces a period of personal change and internal friction. Growth is not always clean; sometimes it grinds forward. Nothing resolves without cost. Confusion and strain do not sit outside the songs, they shape their architecture. That is what the band has accomplished with Ascent Effort, a work that is not always clean but well-shaped by struggle and growth. The Pacific Northwest lingers in the background of the record, its long winters and brief summers echoing the album’s shifts between abrasion and restraint. Ascent Effort does not offer catharsis in the traditional sense. It allows tension to remain. In that unresolved space, transformation takes form and a band in motion is revealed.

In a most original impetus this album traverses forty years of Italian new wave and singer-songwriter tradition. As in the desert where Infesta’s urge is to walk, we are ambushed by the most intense thermal and sonic difference.

It is from here that this important journey we mustn’t miss begins. It leads us eight thousand meters deep in the blue abyss. Not quite enough to come out the other side and, as a kite, bestow all the heights that I will reach. These depths are nevertheless necessary to adjust our eyes to the darkness that lives within us, as a machine to burst our hearts to which we can’t and won't be accomplices.

Machine against machine. The increasing pressure of the lashes of an incessant current, at times sweet and at times sour, on which all the courage is sung and yet is everywhere dispersed like thoughts on water and melodies to be lost at sea. Darkness persists: you said the world can be lived where all was taken. And it’s a crazy and estranging babbling that, stripped by a current, answers: never never never never, in no direction.

My companions, come back, the breaking point has been found, we sing together. Leaf after leaf the time has come: it is possible to destroy the Machine in a mad blinding light.

Geoglyph is the new duo project by Alohn and Khey Mysterio, a convergence of two deeply singular practices into a single subterranean signal. Their debut album arrives as the eighth reference on Organic Signs, not as a collection of tracks but as a carved artifact: six inscriptions pressed into vinyl, mapping a sonic territory where time, rhythm and texture are no longer linear, but layered like geological memory.

Through Geoglyph, Alohn and Khey Mysterio convey a message from below, or beyond. A pulse engraved from forgotten times in the basement of reality, reactivated by abyssal basses, vibrating layers and fractured textures. Exhumed from the subterranean strata where psychedelic dub, mineral techno and fractal dubstep fuse into raw energy, their music becomes a point of contact: every beat, every silence, every oscillation acting as a coordinate toward another perception. What unfolds is not simply sound design, but an invocation, rhythms as sigils, timbre as gnosis, signals that seem to arrive already charged with intention.

Across the album, Alohn’s guitar notes fall like cascades through the mix, dissolving at times into controlled feedback and crystallizing into melodic fragments that hover between tension and release. These organic gestures are interwoven with Khey Mysterio’s dense low-end architectures and rhythmic frameworks, creating a constantly shifting terrain: from weightless transmissions and ritualistic voices to moments of overwhelming propulsion where the music suddenly breaks open with tectonic force. The record moves fluidly between meditative suspension and explosive motion, never settling into a single state for long.

A strong undercurrent of what has come to be known as “druidstep” runs through the album, a term coined within the 95 Open Tabs universe to describe a form of dubstep untethered from genre convention, rooted instead in bass as ritual, in groove as invocation. Here it meets dub-techno pulse, psychedelic echoes and high-velocity 4×4 pressure, drawing subtle influence from underground bass cultures without ever becoming referential. The result is a body of work that feels both ancient and forward-leaning, cyclical rather than linear: a living geoglyph that reveals different meanings depending on how (and where) it is read.

As the final movement accelerates into its closing phase, the album releases its energy outward, with frequencies stretched toward their limits, leaving behind the trace of a completed ceremony. In this sense, Geoglyph’s debut stands as a defining moment within the Organic Signs continuum: a record that unfolds rather than explains, offering an experience to be entered, absorbed, and carried. With this release, the label continues to explore new sonic spaces, evolving and expanding while giving deeper meaning to its own essence. A message from beneath the surface, waiting for those willing to tune in.

Más de este género

There's a tendency in metal to mistake aggression for honesty, volume for depth. To confuse the performance of darkness with its actual weight. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest, the new album from San Francisco-based post-black metal band Bosse-de-Nage, sidesteps this entirely. It’s the group’s most fully realized work yet, precisely because it refuses to be pinned down.

Bosse-de-Nage have been working with The Flenser for over fifteen years. They were one of the first bands the label ever partnered with and have the longest active relationship in the label's history. But unlike most bands who build momentum through constant touring and visibility, Bosse-de-Nage has largely existed apart from the music world's usual machinery. They've evolved on their own terms, in relative isolation, allowing the work to develop without outside pressure or influence. What began rooted in black metal anonymity has mutated into something that actively defies categorization. The aggression is still there, but it's no longer the point. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest finds the band treating emotions like physical objects, feelings with spatial properties. “No Such Place"" describes a space that can't exist but does anyway, somewhere between thought and location. ""Immortality Project"" examines infinite possibility not as promise but as problem, endless options collapsing under their own weight. These songs don't use metaphor to describe emotion. They make emotion into something you could theoretically touch.
Tracked by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Oathbreaker) at Atomic Garden East and mixed and mastered by Richard Chowenhill of Agriculture, Hidden Fires Burn Hottest was years in development, with some tracks beginning in 2018.

The long writing process offered time that most records don't get. Time to live with ideas, revise endlessly, to let structures settle. For the first time, lyricist Bryan Manning wrote everything in advance, creating a surplus to pull from rather than working under deadline pressure. The difference shows.
Coming off Further Still, an album built on constraint and economy, Bosse-de-Nage sought the opposite: sprawl, strangeness, fewer rules. Space for ideas to develop without rushing them. Dynamics that move through quiet as much as noise. Presence earned through atmosphere instead of volume. The record even includes ""Mementos,"" which might be considered the first love song the band has ever written.

Nothing here coheres into a theme. These are pieces pulled from low moments and private feelings made public through sound. The band has never been interested in positivity, in music that resolves cleanly or offers comfort. But bleakness doesn't mean humorlessness. There's something darkly funny running through much of it, even when it shouldn't be.
Hidden Fires Burn Hottest doesn't explain itself. It just insists: what you feel is as real as what you can see."

There's a tendency in metal to mistake aggression for honesty, volume for depth. To confuse the performance of darkness with its actual weight. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest, the new album from San Francisco-based post-black metal band Bosse-de-Nage, sidesteps this entirely. It’s the group’s most fully realized work yet, precisely because it refuses to be pinned down.

Bosse-de-Nage have been working with The Flenser for over fifteen years. They were one of the first bands the label ever partnered with and have the longest active relationship in the label's history. But unlike most bands who build momentum through constant touring and visibility, Bosse-de-Nage has largely existed apart from the music world's usual machinery. They've evolved on their own terms, in relative isolation, allowing the work to develop without outside pressure or influence. What began rooted in black metal anonymity has mutated into something that actively defies categorization. The aggression is still there, but it's no longer the point. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest finds the band treating emotions like physical objects, feelings with spatial properties. “No Such Place"" describes a space that can't exist but does anyway, somewhere between thought and location. ""Immortality Project"" examines infinite possibility not as promise but as problem, endless options collapsing under their own weight. These songs don't use metaphor to describe emotion. They make emotion into something you could theoretically touch.
Tracked by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Oathbreaker) at Atomic Garden East and mixed and mastered by Richard Chowenhill of Agriculture, Hidden Fires Burn Hottest was years in development, with some tracks beginning in 2018.

The long writing process offered time that most records don't get. Time to live with ideas, revise endlessly, to let structures settle. For the first time, lyricist Bryan Manning wrote everything in advance, creating a surplus to pull from rather than working under deadline pressure. The difference shows.
Coming off Further Still, an album built on constraint and economy, Bosse-de-Nage sought the opposite: sprawl, strangeness, fewer rules. Space for ideas to develop without rushing them. Dynamics that move through quiet as much as noise. Presence earned through atmosphere instead of volume. The record even includes ""Mementos,"" which might be considered the first love song the band has ever written.

Nothing here coheres into a theme. These are pieces pulled from low moments and private feelings made public through sound. The band has never been interested in positivity, in music that resolves cleanly or offers comfort. But bleakness doesn't mean humorlessness. There's something darkly funny running through much of it, even when it shouldn't be.
Hidden Fires Burn Hottest doesn't explain itself. It just insists: what you feel is as real as what you can see."

Born from the dialogue between two distinct yet complementary visions of techno — Orbe’s futuristic and immersive atmospheres, and Psyk’s hypnotic depth, stripped-back minimalism — the record unfolds as a carefully sculpted sonic journey. Tension, space, and texture take center stage, shaping an evolving narrative that progresses seamlessly from track to track.

More than a collection of individual cuts, the album embodies a cohesive and mature concept: a shared identity refined through countless hours of studio experimentation, critical listening, and synthesis. Here, the core essence of the project crystallizes — a point of convergence between atmosphere and impact, abstraction and functionality, introspection and raw dancefloor energy.

This release not only marks the culmination of an intensive creative cycle, but also signals the beginning of a new phase in their ongoing exploration of techno’s expressive potential.

Just when you thought Kevin Richard Martin's music couldn’t go any slower, lower or deeper, Sub Zero emerges. A slow-motion excavation of drug-tech, dub, dreamy noise and frozen ambience, the album gradually mutates into hypnotic pulsations and melodic melancholia. It is arguably Martin’s most striking release to date under his given name.


Originally released digitally on Bandcamp only in the depths of winter 2022, amid the final year of the COVID-19 pandemic and Russia’s initial invasion of Ukraine, this desolate epic went on to become KRM's best-selling digital album on the platform. With persistent demand for a vinyl pressing and a full DSP release from fans, Martin thought the time was right for Sub Zero to finally surface in its full glory: remastered and paired with fresh new artwork.


Unnervingly, the album is as beautiful as it is solemn, as glacial as it is relentless, and as subtle as it is terrifying. A trip into a sonic abyss, with a tour of a philosophical void, it’s to my ears, KRM’s most seductive work yet, and also his most emotionally resonant. Martin expertly balances tear-jerking motifs with heavier than hell rhythmic weight. With its melodic fog, eternal drones and eerie atmospherics, the peripheral throb of distant kick drums, the heartbeat punctuation of cavernous subs and the snowstorm blizzard of fuzz absolutely envelopes the mind, whilst crushing the soul.


In terms of lineage, Sub Zero might recall a more paranoid Porter Ricks, a dystopian GAS, or a brutally dubbed-out Pan Sonic. Most fitting, however, is its kinship with the deepest dub terrain Martin previously explored on In Blue, The Bug’s acclaimed 2020 collaboration with Dis Fig for Hyperdub, where he obsessively probed subaqueous pulses and low-end modulations.


Sub Zero is possibly the most minimal, desolate, and deviant dub record yet released on Martin’s PRESSURE label. It marks the point at which dub disappears into its own effects trails. Dub music capturing frozen moments in time. Dub as an addictive painkiller, that sounds both sacred and ocean deep.

Eléctrico Magnetico opens a new catalog series dedicated to the under-underground. A punk approach to electronic music—raw, physical, and proudly non-conformist.

Across four tracks, distorted pressure and subtle 90s sampling collide, revealing a rough side of dancefloor culture that refuses polish or compromise.

This release ain’t for everyone—and that’s the point.

Emerging through waves of reverberation and haze, ‘Deep Star’ unfolds as a submerged odyssey through Coma World’s distinct terrain of leftfield dub and psychedelia. The duo of Maxwell Hallett (Betamax) and Pete Bennie craft a sound that moves between meditative underwater drift and sharp, rhythmic pressure.

Each piece develops like a current, where bass resonance and percussive detail create an undertow of motion that guides the record’s flow. Beneath the murk, subtle shifts in tone and momentum reveal the album’s depth: flickers of tension and release that mirror the shifting light below the surface.

‘Deep Star’ captures Coma World at a point of lucid refinement, translating improvisation into form without losing its raw edge. Immersive and alive with motion, it’s a record that invites listening as descent—sound as gravity, pulling you deeper the longer you stay.

When Chuck D proclaimed "Bass, how low can you go?" on Public Enemy's anthemic 'Bring the Noise,' maybe he was pre-empting or inciting the 10,000 fathoms-deep, spine-bending basslines and sub-quake tremors of 'Implosion.'

Implosion is a crushing split album, appropriately released on The Bug's own PRESSURE label. Mapping out a new form of spectral dub, the sound is deliberately immersive, introverted, and yes, definitely implosive. In pursuit of heavy lids, blurred vision, and merciless bass bin punishment, it’s one part meditation, two parts low-end theory, and essentially a confession of devoted sound system addiction.

As expected from a tag team featuring British soundlab explorer and 'London Zoo' composer Kevin Martin, aka The Bug, and Michael Fiedler, aka Jah Schulz—a long-time graduate of Germany's new school of sound system reggae culture—the duo approaches their target differently yet share the goal of keeping their sound "raw" (Fiedler) and "brutally minimal" (Martin). This proves that opposites can attract, even if their tools are different and their methods sometimes diverge.

From such a disparate combo, hailing from different geographical and aesthetic backgrounds, contrasts are certainly on display, even within each artist's own contributions. From the melancholia and transcendence of 'Alien Virus (West Indian Centre, Leeds),' to the duality of ascension and descension on 'Hope,' or the Sunn 0))) in dub, visceral drone of 'Dread (The End, London),' to the tripped-out repetitions of 'Midnight,' which reinvents Chain Reaction for post-millennials, the result is both sacred and narcotic. Each track illuminates the emotional impact and atmospheric pressure being explored across this deceptively sparse album—a mastery of tone and texture.

This collection might be as reduced, minimal, and deep as The Bug has ever gone, perhaps echoing the solemnity of his recent Kevin Richard Martin Black release and invoking the futurist steppas self-pioneered on his previous Pressure album. Alternatively, Fiedler‘s Ghost Dubs project ventures into his most heavyweight direction yet, which is no mean feat considering his previous, the critically acclaimed album Damaged, was a monstrously massive triumph of analogue weight and enviable sound design.

Implosion is ice-cool, a stark contrast to the warmth and sociability of traditional Jamaican roots and the current trends in digi-dub. Instead, the mood is soaked in tension and intense dread, finding an unexpected melting point where classic dub's stark rhythm attack, isolationist ambience's eerie drift, dub techno's floatation strategies, and even the relentless riffs of doom metal collide. As the bass-obsessed pair drop what is arguably the heaviest ambient dub album to emerge from any electronic sector—a moody counterpoint to The Orb's fluffy clouds, etc, Martin has cited The Roots Radics, Black Jade, and On U Sound's Pounding System as heavily influencing his approach to the album, while Fiedler has expressed his admiration for Adrian Sherwood's productions and Rhythm & Sound's enchanting soundscape. Yet, the super heavyweight pulsations, emotive resonances, and bone-rattling vibrations detonated here effortlessly go far beyond these influences.

Shadowy and elusive, there’s a mysteriousness at this record's core. A haunting moodiness oscillating between nostalgia and future shock. Despite the deadly fixation with SLOW and HEAVY, the album maintains a totally hypnotic swing throughout. Implosion and its lead single 'Imploded Versions' are testaments to being enveloped in bass, seduced by bass, submerged in bass, and utterly crushed by bass, as The Bug and Ghost Dubs seek to craft a new form of dub for zonal headz and Babylon seekers.

Mastered by Stefan Betke (a.k.a. POLE) at Scape Mastering studio, this record is heavy as f-ck without resorting to continuous distortion. It’s low-end worship taken to an absolute extreme, yet remains highly listenable and definitely danceable, albeit at the slowest of paces. Sacred and narcotic, this is low-end worship amplified to the max. Dive in if you dare.

Sex Tapes From Mars presents Outdom Records' boss, LATENT, who shares a brand-new four-track EP that spars with breakbeat, electro, house, and left-field electronics, neatly centring them all into a steady, sexy collision. The record as a whole captures genuinely original-sounding, rough-edged b-boy breaking badness - nostalgic, but never polite. It's a few BPMs slower than Sex Tapes' last few outings, but no less effective. Arguably, it's more late '80s sounding than ever, although, in fact, it's a brand-new, stonking release that showcases the label's versatility and unpredictability.

The opening track, "Break Machine", sets the pace with a clear nod to the '80s US group of the same name, bringing tidy drum workouts and clipped vocal samples that recall early Chicago, as well as choppy rave and street party energy at its most unfiltered.

"Disco Hijack" pushes the clutch into a more functional gear, merging delay-heavy, druggy, chuggy, sludgy bass with more robotic vocoder tropes, sharing something playful but IDM and European skewed. It's a dancefloor tool with a wink - just the style this now accomplished label has made its identity. Oh, don't forget the amens and clattering jungle breaks. 1990 or 2040? Fuck knows.

On "Distress Robot", pneumatic percussion and malfunctioning android chatter bring a darker, more mechanical edge, while "Virtual Body" closes with a spacious, garage-leaning shuffle that pulls the EP into recognisable contemporary yet still very much peak-time territory.

LATENT gives lean grit, pushes the edges, and lets the tracks feel alive in their imperfections. It’s music that thrives on tension between old-school reference points and modern floor pressure.

Bristol's label head Elon Dust HAS done it again.

Vinyl-only as per, don't sleep."

A hill repeating its own name.

Ben Beinn — mountain mountain — an imagined summit, recursive and unstable.

Poole’s new album Ben Beinn follows 2024’s In a River Shadow, and deepens his exploration of environment, voice, and abstraction. If the previous record moved with flowing water and submerged hymns, Ben Beinn climbs into elemental instability: passing storms, coded skies, and sodden ground.

Across ten tracks, Poole entangles the Celtic New Age sound world — traditional instrumentation (flute, low whistle, bagpipe, piano, strings) — with synthesis, environmental recordings, and abstracted voice. The sound palette is tactile — marked by microtonal harmony, swelling dissonance, and a breathy naïvety. Voices in Gaelic, Norwegian, and English surface and dissolve, stretched beyond recognition — more weather than word.

The album’s title refers to a tautological hill — Ben Beinn, or “mountain mountain” — a recursive site where motifs surface, fracture, and re-emerge. On 365 Days of Rain, rainfall data becomes a rhythmic lattice that slips from metrical order. 1000 opens the record in cinematic emergence: mountain icicles and frozen streams swell into strings and breathy melodic weight. Pulling from the connective folktales of hill and mountain trolls — “Dance for a thousand years,” Poole writes, “for jeg har sovet tidlig så lenge.”

Recorded in Scotland between 2024–2025, Ben Beinn draws from environmental recordings of frozen hill passes, storm drains, and peat bogs using contact mics and hydrophones. Rather than simply reflecting place, these recordings press against it — layering the sonic materiality of landscape with synthesis and song. An inflection point between fabrication — folk music as performed identity, a carrier of story — and its obfuscation through digital networks, where tradition is refracted into plural forms.

Musical reference points include the emotionally saturated textures of Inoyama Land, the folk-electronic hybrids of Eli Storbekken, the hyperrealist collage practices of Noah Creshevsky, and the disquieting sonic simulations of James Ferraro. While Ferraro captures the uncanny surfaces of networked life, Ben Beinn turns inward — toward a located listening, shaped by weather, memory, and terrain.

The second in a triptych that began with In a River Shadow, Ben Beinn continues Poole’s excavation of environmental and folk material through contemporary methods. If the first record submerged itself in flowing water and submerged hymns, this one is shaped by the slow pressures of land and sky — a music of erosion, recurrence, and elemental presence.

The follow up the successful ‘Gary Crowley’s Lost 80s’ released in 2019
“I count myself incredibly lucky when I think back to my 1980’s. A lot of those bands and artists that
resonated with me during that time are featured on this, our sequel to our first Lost 80s collection, which we
have inspiringly titled “GC Lost 80s Two”!
I must be honest and say as soon as I delivered the track listing for the first compilation, I already had a
selection in mind for a sequel (if ever I was asked by those cool folks at Demon). Thankfully, they asked...and
this is it.” Gary Crowley
21 tracks compiled and themed by Gary Crowley side-by-side. Many of these tracks are rare and hard to find,
the better-known artists appearing represented by some of their lesser-known (‘lost’) tracks.
Presented on 2 x 180g Clear Heavyweight vinyl, includes an introduction and track-by-track notes by Gary
Crowley, plus memories of the era from Mick Talbot (The Style Council) and more.
“Expect a selection of not only the bigger names with some of their ‘lost’ gems, but also a raft of lesserknown artists. Many of the latter came nowhere near the mainstream but most certainly (IMHO) deserve
another chance to shine under the spotlight. It was such a diverse and eclectic time for music, hopefully this
box set mirrors that.” Gary Crowley


b a2. Working Week – Venceremos (We Will Win) 7” version





h b2. Working Week – Venceremos (We Will Win) 7” version









r c6. World’s Famous Supreme Team – Hey! DJ 7” version
[s] d1. General Public - Tenderness [Special Dance Mix]
[t] d2. Colourbox featuring Lorita Grahame– Baby I Love You So [12” Version]
[12” Remix]

The brand new ANORAX RECORDS label’s mantra is #eatsleepcollect - which makes its’ debut release right on point.

Drizabone’s anthemic “Pressure” has become a huge collectors want with appeal to Modern Soul fans, Northern Soul followers and House addicts via the much loved Roger Sanchez remix.

Drizabone burst on to a dazzling British Soul scene in the early 1990’s, following the footsteps of Soul II Soul and Loose Ends, rubbing shoulders with the likes of The Brand New Heavies as UK acts laid down their own distinctive Soul DNA.

After debuting with “Real Love” which went from a mystery white label to a chart smash, Drizabone went on to record the iconic “Conspiracy” album.

“Pressure” has endured like fine wine and is now hailed as an all time classic.

ANORAX present the original and very in-demand original backed with Roger Sanchez’s Nu- Solution remix on limited edition 7 inch single.

Teasing dread atmospheres and zooming in on microscopic details that bring every beat in every bar to life, Seb Uncles returns to Samurai Music with another deep dive into his exquisitely crafted, cinematic progression of the drum & bass tradition.

Even a cursory glance at the Eusebeia back catalogue tells you Uncles is an artist committed to the storytelling promise of breakbeat culture. His work has been heavily tipped towards albums since he first broke through around 2015, and across more than 10 long-players he's cultivated a strong line in moody, evocative jungle and drum & bass more concerned with world-building and subtle detail rather than aggression and intensity.

Following up on his 2023 LP for Samurai, X, on Undertones Uncles applies his signature meditative tones to a broad expanse. There's a consistent sound palette that leans on the warm snarl of monosynth low end and aqueous pads, delicately edited breaks and crisply sculpted synth percussion, but Uncles moves with dexterity around different tempos and structures within this considered sound world. The overarching notion is one of things lurking beneath the surface - a comfortably open theme to be approached and understood from any number of angles. It certainly chimes with the upfront detail and brooding tension that gives the Eusebeia sound such depth.

There are moments of direct drum pressure, such as fierce opener 'Undertones' with its diced-up breaks and icy chords, the boisterous jungle dread of 'Uncover' and chasmic roller 'Root Out', but on the likes of 'Beneath The Surface' and 'Out In The Open' it's the mellow elements that take precedence over the deft drum science. The motion is persistent and nuanced, but it's achieved without deferring to default dancefloor tropes.

'Emergence' marks a pointed shift towards a delicate strain of techno that maintains the album's sound at a mid-paced pulse, focusing on synth shapes and textures to achieve propulsion with only the lightest of drum parts. Alongside the energetic intrigue of Uncles' sonic choices, the melodic make-up of the track is a compelling showcase for his emotionally ambiguous approach, both rousing and chilling in the same curious chord shapes.

From the half-time prowl of 'Lifting The Veil' to the creeping textures and haunted phrasing of 'Brought To Light', Undertones is another stunning exercise in widescreen jungle. It flows naturally from the rich body of work Uncles has cultivated over the past 10 years while carving out its own unique pocket - a reminder if you needed one of the profound sound bedded into the Eusebeia project.

Spectral Bounce’s fifth instalment comes courtesy of L.A.’s rave archivist and dancefloor operative Dreams, A.K.A. Jesse Pimenta. Throughout his decade-long career the California native has inspected, dissected and concocted all manner of dance musics, leaving his mark with drops on Apron Records, Pinkman, BANK NYC and his own imprint Dance Data. On SPEC05 — Dangerous When Wet — he hijacks the synapses with 4 accomplished productions, plotting a high BPM course through manifold styles using the raw aesthetic that characterises his output.

“Losing Control” is a frenetic dancefloor invitation, immediately locking into a pacing groove. Beneath wild hand drums, Dreams plays with an insistent 303 bassline alternating between rasping buzz and oily squelch, while stern vocals are layered on top of breaks that have been processed to a viscerally satisfying end.

Taking things from delirious dance circle to underwater biosphere, the EP’s eponymous track explores a submerged 1980s Miami. Weighty & enveloping, “Dangerous When Wet” is pure aquatic pop-n-lock — hydraulic electro for a drowned world. Ocean floor caustics are transmuted into auditory form: arpeggios bubble up; drones shimmer mystically; hi-hats hiss like air from an open valve. Amongst the sonar bleeps, a barrage of pummeling low-end is sure to give subwoofers a workout.

“XTC Messenger” delivers an infectious paranoid dispatch, astutely balancing the sensual with the deranged. A slow-mo dial tone unfolds languidly, running counter to nervously twitching high frequencies. Its punchy percussion is tuned for maximum dopamine release; the track’s abrupt vocal chops and mechanical kick-snare pulsation evoke the leather jackets and jagged edges of 1980s industrial discotheque.

“Pressure Points” closes the EP on a heady and mesmerising polymetric trip. The parting track is a lithe yet spacious number, propelled by a rattling break. Here Dreams follows from track 2, creating an immersive environment in which sounds tightly twist and twirl. Shifting oscillators call out like tiny creatures as the bass throbs and wriggles further into your brain, long after the needle hits the runout groove.

Ecstatic’s dreamiest cadets bliss out on a new album of acoustic and electric guitar, harmonium and synth tapestries, notably nestling a Romance cameo within a genteel toggle of atmospheric pressure.

Back on (side) road after releasing quietly acclaimed kosmische gem ‘I Had too Much to Dream Last Night’ back in 2021 and the lysergic lushness of ‘Listen to the Sky’ a couple of years later, Celestial suggest a more sublime return to earth with the shine-eyed wonders of ‘I Can Hear the Grass Grow’, an album that soothes to the supine in eight shimmering parts of pearlescent melodic motifs marbling harmonious backdrops intended to tenderly comb nerves straight.

The duo take their role as seductive sandmen with a curious melodic wit that leaves something to the imagination whilst nudging it along the album’s narrative thread. A courtly flamenco lick flickers in opener ‘The Endless Stair’, one of the most restrained recordings we've heard from the childhood friends; blessed with just a little reverb and echo, as if a mic's been lowered into some dimly lit basement while Celestial puzzle out mystifying, interlocking harmonies. It hits a mid-point between John Fahey's raga-inspired Americana and Vini Reilly's rain-soaked Northern blues - the emotion throbs from every note.

Celestial's music is never too polished, giving it the fuzzy, uninhibited flair of a long-lost mail order private press and instilling it with a level of humanity that's rare to discover in the new-new age. Even when mysterious labelmate Romance turns up to ornament 'Mermaid Boulevard' with backmasked electronics, it's their low-slung Ry Cooder-esque guitar/bass that provides the narrative anchor, while the title track and spongiform analog textures of ‘Song For The rainy Season’ dial it right down to a Harmonia-via-BoC pastoral sublime. Vini Reilly and Eno’s influence is most surely felt on the swaying elegance of ‘Sweet Sleep, Angel Mild’, with a central motif that lingers on the mind long after it’s stopped playing, whilst their closing couplet perfectly resolves the cycle with a melancholic kiss-off for the ages.