Suche:pressures

Through her work across five Vastum albums, Leila Abdul-Rauf has been a sonorous contributor to 20 Buck Spin’s discography for more than 15 years now. Concurrent to that she’s also amassed an impressive body of solo work whereby she could showcase the full range of her multi-instrumental artistic and vocal talents. We now bring that part of Leila’s output to 20 Buck Spin showcasing her darkest and most confrontational material to date with new album ‘Andros Insidium’. On ‘Andros Insidium’ Leila draws us into a ceremonial descent, through the architecture of shadow itself. Unfolding like a ritual text etched in obsidian, each movement traces the violent and sacred geometry of transformation. The presence and wisdom of the feminine divine looms throughout, as an ancient and uncompromising force, in conflict with everything buried, exiled and made monstrous by the machinery of societal pressures and unrealistic expectations. The album delves deep into the dark vastness of the psyche of woman: wild, ugly, vulnerable and powerful. Sonically ‘Andros Insidium’ is a mutation of the cinematic dark-ambient, industrial and ritual folk expressed in prior releases, now sharpened into something far darker, more narrative and intimate. Leila’s vocal work becomes a new focus with a wider variety of styles and characters, exorcising the demons of patriarchal fragmentation and revenge fantasy as lived myth. In its most potent moments, ‘Andros Insidium’ suggests that wholeness is not purity or light, but the terrifying act of reclaiming everything that was discarded, and learning to speak with its voice. * New solo album of Leila-Abdul Rauf of VASTUM (also has played in Amber Asylum, Hammers of Misfortune, and others) * Dark and heavy mix of Dark Ambient, Industrial, Ritual / Neo Folk, Electronic

* FFO: Dead Can Dance, Diamanda Galas, Arcana, Amber Asylum, Jarboe/Swans, Chelsea Wolfe, Cold Meat Industry

“One foot out the door, another in the otherworld…”
So begins Hannah Lew’s debut, self-titled solo record, soaked in imperious, wide-eyed pop songwriting and a girl-group/post punk aesthetic that belies the artist’s history in the U.S. underground. A towering, hook-laden album, it’s infused with an optimism and surrealism that conversely deals with the times we find ourselves in.

Recorded at home in Richmond, CA and in The Best House studio with Maryam Qudus in Oakland CA, with the assistance of a crack team of West Coast musicians, this album sees Hannah Lew stepping out from behind the legacy of her two groups Grass Widow and Cold Beat. While musically bearing similarities with her previous work, “Hannah Lew” is a bold leap into direct pop territory, making ample use of a vocal style that teases out the inherent melancholy in her melodies. Mastered by Sarah Register, each song is a perfectly honed nugget that frequently pulls the heart in two directions at once.

Themes of change, breaking up, shattering old ways of being are shot through the record. For the front cover, a photograph of the artist’s face was printed, ripped up and re-assembled, resembling the creative process embarked upon by Lew for her first “solo” material. The album feels instinctual, almost dream-like in its assemblage of sweeping synths and pulsating, propulsive drum machine beat patterns with Lew’s vocal performances sensitive and caressing over the top. Increasingly relying on the subconscious and dreams to guide her creative process, Hannah Lew frequently abandons literal interpretations or linear narratives, the songs seeming to exist in a swooning, effortless flow-state while remaining emotionally hard hitting.

On an album where every song could be a single, there are kaleidoscopic shades and varying emotional tones in abundance. First single Another Twilight is carried along a pumping, Italo-disco-style 4/4 beat and mono-synth bass line, the low end pulling at the heart and body. Lew’s vocal melody teases the track before swan-diving into a gorgeous chorus as she sings “it’s all over baby and I don’t mind… in decline, I take my time…” The album is suffused with moments like this. On slow builder Damaged Melody, an arpeggiated synth elongates the verse before a cascading synth showers down melodic glitter. The stunning Replica uses dual swirling synth patterns before a driving, synthpop chorus for the ages carries Hannah Lew’s vocal into the stereo field, sailing in on a high register singed with the embers of a break up.

In a departure from previous groups, her solo songs are guided by dreams and free association inspired by Dada and the Surrealist movement and sculpted afterwards. As such, the songs reveal themselves on repeated listens, revealing traces of heartbreak inspired by both personal and global elements - Hannah Lew regards the album “a wartime album.” On Move In Silence, Lew intones “there’s a war outside, just out of view,” revealing the dichotomy at play throughout. With the songs evolving naturally and in a flow state, the pressures and sadnesses of the modern age bleed through, mixed in with Lew’s inherent love, sensitivity and fractured-but-intact optimism. On the swooning, sublime Sunday layers of Numanoid synths open up for the commanding vocal performance pontificating on grief, love, pain as she “feels the ache on Sunday…” As the chorus builds and Lew’s call-and-response vocal adds to the emotional tension, it almost feels like too much to take.

Elsewhere, there are echoes of Hannah Lew’s previous work. On Time Wasted a bass guitar comes in with a heavy, punk attack before the synths and vocal harmonies reminiscent of later Cold Beat elevate everything. The glassy, sweetly resigned closer The Clock sounds like so classic it could be cover, a sweetened Jesus & Mary Chain tune perhaps, before it erupts into volcanic chorus that could only come from Hannah Lew in 2026.

Calibre announces his new album 'Tricklemore Sea', set for release on vinyl and digital on 1st May via Signature Recordings.

A deeply personal and exploratory body of work, the album moves through ambient, shoegaze, electronic, blues and folk, all subtly shaped by the low-end sensibility that has defined his music for decades. It resists easy categorisation, reflecting an ongoing interest in blending bass culture with forms that sit outside it. Following the release of 'They Want You' at the end of 2025, this new project marks a clear shift in tone. Where that record leans into intensity and forward momentum, 'Tricklemore Sea' turns inward, occupying a more introspective space. Featuring entirely his own vocals and production, it carries a more exposed and vulnerable quality.

The album has taken shape gradually, drawing from material written in the years after 'Planet Hearth'. Rather than forming around a fixed concept, it emerges as a collection of pieces connected by tone and instinct. Tracks move between simplicity and abstraction, with piano-led compositions sitting alongside field recordings, improvisations and bass-driven works. Ideas often begin quickly, then evolve over long periods of revisiting and reworking. His voice takes on a more central role throughout, bringing a heightened sense of vulnerability. Lyrics and delivery are often left open, allowing space for interpretation. His process remains fluid and instinctive, with ideas written quickly, revisited over time and combined across different periods.

Moments such as 'Little Blend' carry a quiet melancholia balanced with hope, while 'Free One' reflects on the pressures of contemporary life. The title track considers the scale of human existence within a wider universe, framing individual lives as small but meaningful within something larger. Elsewhere, 'Deflower' and 'Pigeon Luncheon' draw from recordings made in Berlin at the end of lockdown, capturing a sense of movement and return. Older material, including 'Living In Your Head' and 'Hyndsight', is recontextualised and sits naturally alongside newer work. Threads from his wider catalogue remain present. 'Able Son Dub' nods to longstanding reggae influences, while 'Bit Broken Stream' appears here in a downtempo form alongside its drum and bass counterpart from 'They Want You'. Tracks like 'United Pull' and 'Mizzle Mine' lean further into abstraction, using minimal language and space to suggest mood rather than define it.

Over more than 30 years, Calibre has built a catalogue that moves across drum and bass, ambient, dub, techno, house, jazz, soul, blues and folk. His work is marked by restraint, quiet melancholy and a singular approach that continues to evolve. Complete authorship remains central, with all vocals, lyrics and production on both 'They Want You' and 'Tricklemore Sea' created solely by him. This breadth extends into his DJ sets, where he draws heavily from his own catalogue, often performing entirely self-produced material across a wide range of tempos and styles. His ability to move between contexts has seen him play at Boomtown, Houghton and Atonal Berlin, delivering distinct sets while maintaining a clear identity.

With 'Tricklemore Sea', that identity leans toward stillness, introspection and emotional depth. It is a record that prioritises feeling over definition, holding space for ambiguity while remaining grounded in a strong sense of authorship. Each release carries an element of exposure, a moment of vulnerability in letting the work go. At its core, the album seeks to capture something fleeting but recognisable, a sense of beauty that sits just beyond language.

He describes it simply: "The river inside of me flowing into the sea."

Specific Objects debuts on Life In Patterns with Helios, a powerful 6-track EP shaped by the pressures, ambitions, and contradictions that define creative work in a hyper-competitive society. The record explores the perpetual pursuit of success - an ever-distant horizon that inspires as much as it consumes.

Named after the sun, Helios symbolizes the personal goals we orient ourselves toward: radiant and motivating, yet capable of overwhelming those who chase them too closely. The EP was written during a period of intense reflection on performance culture, "hustle" mentality, and the rat race of late capitalism - an environment amplified by constant comparison on social media.

Helios is both a celebration and critique of ambition - a techno journey through the heat, pressure, and brilliance of striving. It is scheduled to release on February 6, 2026 on both digital and vinyl formats.

London duo Babeheaven — vocalist Nancy Andersen and producer/multi- instrumentalist Jamie Travis — return after four years with their highly anticipated 5-track EP ‘Slower Than Sound’, released via Scenic Route on October 24.

Following their singles ‘Beloved’ and the 6 Music-premiered track ‘Picture This’, ‘Slower Than Sound’ marks a deeply personal and intimate turn for Babeheaven. Written and recorded largely in Nancy’s home studio, the EP embraces minimal instrumentation, acoustic textures, and spacious arrangements, capturing the emotional vulnerability and euphoria the duo describe as “Post Rave” — the music you listen to on the ride home from a
party.

“It feels like a rebirth in a lot of ways,” says Nancy. “Writing at home gave me space to experiment, make mistakes, and rebuild confidence. Once I brought the songs to Jamie, we shaped them together into what you hear now.”

The EP explores love, reflection, and personal growth. Beloved conjures a comforting, almost mythic presence, while Lost For Words reflects the struggle to connect with the world and oneself. Picture This offers snapshots of a relationship, looking back while imagining its future. The cover Tiny Demons by Todd Rundgren blends seamlessly with the EP’s introspective mood, and Loud Thoughts, featuring Samba Jean-Baptiste, captures heartbreak, burnout, and creative pressure. “I hope people can find their own meaning in these songs,” Nancy says. “I’m writing for myself, but music is for each listener to interpret.”

Since debuting with Friday Sky in 2016, Babeheaven have steadily built a loyal following through their acclaimed albums Home For Now and Sink Into Me, amassing over 65 million Spotify streams and earning support from BBC Radio 1, 6 Music, and KCRW. Their live shows have sold out Village Underground,

Bush Hall, and Jazz Cafe, and they’ve shared stages with Cigarettes After Sex, Loyle Carner, and Nilüfer Yanya. Visually, Babeheaven’s world has been shaped alongside creatives including Margot Bowman, Frank Lebon, Tegen Williams, Sacha Beeley, and Joyce Ng, cementing their reputation as one of the UK’s most distinctive acts.

After facing cancelled tours, industry pressures, and a period of creative doubt, Slower Than Sound represents a return to the core of their artistry: intimate, honest, and self-produced. Jamie reflects: “Not putting out music for so long was hard, so we hope this is the start of a more prolific period for us, reconnecting with the London music community and beyond.”

Scannoir. After their previous releases as ½GOTT and GOTT on Uncanny Valley and some remixes, the duo returns with a third solo EP, marking their first appearance on the Berlin-Basel-based label Reach Another System. Their passion for EBM, Synth Pop, and New Beat comes to life with a fine array of classic drum machines and FM-synths, topped with Teutonic lyrics and archival samples. The A-side opens with a bang: "Magnet" critiques social expectations and pressures, backed by hard-hitting snares and tom fill-ins in Front 242 fashion. Next up, "Tschernobyl" warps the listener back to 1986 – a musical report of the Soviet nuclear disaster. Equally dystopian, the B-side hymn "Matrix Leben" depicts life inside a structured system that continually shapes and restricts us. The final track "7 Minuten" pushes the limits of restless staccato EBM madness. Mission accomplished!

A mysterious release, not only for its unique expressive style but also because it isn't even known when it was initially recorded let alone its release date. According to non profit Studio Piccolo owner Vincent Bruley, it could have been recorded during the 70s and eventually released in the early 90s, sometime throughout Nilton Castro's time in Paris making music for contemporary dance classes (often led by his wife). This album was originally intended for accompanying dancers in classes with an emphasis on rhythm and coordination. Given Nilton's background and expertise in percussion, the focal point of this album is to present an array of Afro Brasilian rhythms performed by himself with additional moments of choir, flute and keys/metallophone. Effortless due to Nilton's prowess and unburdened by typical financial pressures (often behind the release of a record), the result feels like charmingly unadulterated and pure expression throughout the entire album. But what really takes the listener to places of unheard-of bliss is “Ondes (Les Vagues)” a track that has plagued the curiosity of diggers and collectors for a while now. With its harmony crescendos elegantly coming and going as per the title, overlayed on Nilton's subtle percussive patterns, an aural landscape of illusory beauty - listening is believing. Remastered and officially re-issued with its original artwork.

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.

Symphony Orchestra is a new group from Maximilian Turnbull and Michael Rault. Both Rault and Turnbull are accomplished songwriters, performers and producers in their own right, with Turnbull leading The Badge Epoque Ensemble, playing with the group Darlene Shrugg, and once releasing records under the name Slim Twig and Rault having released several psychedelic rock & roll classics under his own name in the past decade. The pair have worked together in various capacities for many years, writing and recording together on U.S. Girls' In A Poem Unlimited, and contributing to each other's releases, but the debut LP from Symphony Orchestra (due out May 12th on Telephone Explosion) marks their first release as an official entity.

Needless to say, there is a potent creative chemistry between Rault and Turnbull and Radiant Music showcases the alchemy between their distinct skill sets. The album is an exercise in pure collaboration. After years spent focusing on solo projects and working as hired guns on other projects, the duo came together with no specific intentions other than to work free of boundaries and direction. Freeing themselves from the familiar pressures of deadlines and expectations, they found a sense of discovery through togetherness. Duties on this project were split between Rault acting primarily as a one-man rhythm section and lead vocalist with Turnbull bringing chord sketches and his trademark aphoristic lyrical musings to the table. Trading off roles on guitar and keys from song to song, the duo's deft approach to melody bleeds through their instrumental parts as much as it does through Rault's vocal melodies. The majority of this album was self-engineered over the course of three sessions in 2018, at Michael's Montreal studio. Dormant during the pandemic, Rault's move to Los Angeles and the birth of Turnbull's twin sons, work reignited in 2022. The latterly tracked instrumental 'Concerto' and ballad 'Unthink The Thinkable' provide a dynamic depth to the album perhaps attributable to this tumultuous pause. Mixing came courtesy of Steve Chahley & Tony Price (U.S. Girls, BÉE, Jane Inc, etc).

In all of their work, Rault and Turnbull have made a hallmark of elaborately precise production and arrangement, Radiant Music is no different, though its pared-back simplicity provides a streamlined directness. The pairing of Rault's soulful, elastic vocal with Turnbull's evocatively cerebral lyrics provides a thrilling sensation unlike anything else in their respective catalogs. With an explosive, groove-forward approach, kaleidoscopic walls of vocal harmony and technicolor displays of guitar work, these 31 minutes of music will most certainly stimulate the mind of any fan of classic pop rock and funk. The blown-out breakbeats, winsome woven vocal melodies and propulsive wah-wah guitars of the title track evoke memories of an after-school cartoon special that never really existed outside of a lysergic daydream. "Harp In The Wind" is a perfect moment of overcast melancholy complete with ribbons of weeping synthesizers and velcro-fuzz guitar that could rip a clean line through Kevlar. "Know Thyself" and the harmony-rich "Intersection" are standout tracks that find a kinship in Stereolab's space-age effervescence. "Concerto" is a slab of beaming, mischievous funk that nods to Billy Preston's extraterrestrial keyboard explorations.

Radiant Music, like the best pop music, is life-affirming, confectionary, and enticing. Symphony Orchestra have created an album that hits you right where you need it, anchoring heady, adventurous sonic ideas down to a solid foundation of masterful songcraft, virtuosic instrumental performances and undeniable groove. Not a bar, nor beat is wasted.

“Innovative, hooky and full of depth” - Far Out Magazine

“Songs that lodge into your brain in the opening ten seconds” - Brooklyn Vegan

“Breezy, melodic… a clear ear for a hook” - UNCUT

“Playful and unexpected, emotional but not overstated” - CLUNK

‘Crows’ is the new single from Bristol’s Langkamer and the first to be revealed from their new album ‘No’, which is due for release on 22nd January 2026. Their fourth album in as many years, ‘No’ saw the prolific band taking to the mountains at the invitation of veteran producer Remko Schouten (Pavement, Personal Trainer, Bull). The much loved Bristol band holed up for a week in the wilds of Southern Spain at his brand new Zarzalico studio. Over a week, under the Murcian heat, they laid down the perfectly formed eleven tracks that make up ‘No’.

Since the band’s conception, Langkamer have worked out of anywhere affordable and available, whether it be the basements of renowned venues (‘West Country’, ‘Red Thread Route’, ‘Langzamer’) or secluded cottages (‘The Noon And Midnight Manual’). Over the years, their frenetic pace and quality of writing has earned them fans across the world, plaudits at UK media, and built an ever-growing musical community around them - not least via Breakfast Records - the independent label that is home to Getdown Services - formed by Langkamer’s Dan Anthony and Josh Jarman in 2006 alongside acclaimed singer-songwriter Jasmine 4.T.

To call Langkamer ‘your mid-level indie bands favourite mid-level indie band” sells them short. They have always scraped by on irregular incomes, plagued both by daily financial pressures and the occasional cash sinkhole so well known to any musician in the current impossible climate. Once Schouten offered to host them at his new studio (Zarzalico), they couldn’t refuse. A relentless recording schedule found the group only breaking for the daily long lunch and to occasionally fire an airgun across the hills. If the last half a decade had been a pressure cooker of constant touring and recording, their brief time in the remote Zarzalico could not have been more symbolic. Lead single ‘Crows’ perfectly captures this nervy balance and is a wiry slice of atmospheric proto-punk, drawing from the shadows of the late-70s UK landscapeit also defies these conventions, striking an anthemic chord from beginning to end. From the scaling chromatic guitars at the breakdown, to the final chants of ‘suffer’ and ‘struggle’, there’s a loud desperation and defiance to ‘Crows’ that lends it an unparalleled urgency. As singer/drummer Josh Jarman states:

“Crows is a song about the crazy shapes we contort ourselves into trying to create art in the era of late-stage capitalism. Working a thousand jobs. Writing songs with the left hand while writing emails with the right hand. Your day is already doomed the moment you open your eyes. Everything’s a bad omen.”.

With ‘No’ arriving early next year, ‘Crows’ is the perfect introduction to Langkamer, a band that has only taken new bold steps with each release, always hiding a keen experimentalism behind a charming hook. It is also the surest sign yet that they are ready to step up, and take on the road once again vision unclouded.

Rich Brown bought his first six-string bass in 1999, "Everyone made fun of me" he recalls with a characteristically warm smile - since then he"s established a reputation as first-call player for the leaders of an impressive variety of adventurous projects, from Steve Coleman to Rudresh Mahanthappa to James "Blood" Ulmer. Over the past two years, whenever time allows, he"s been paying regular visits to the studio of his friend, the guitarist and producer Elmer Ferrer. Away from the pressures of the commercial industry, Rich seized the opportunity to explore and expand the vocabulary of his instrument. "NYAEBA" took shape: written and performed entirely on the bass guitar, it"s the story of an imagined griot who journeys around the world and returns to relate his tales in song.

Debt is a new album by Harvey Sutherland about the cost of doing business in the meme economy. In his first LP since the 2022 debut, Boy, the Australian artist reduces his fusiony disco repertoire to ten microhoused funk essentials. This is minimalism not so much as aesthetic conceit than pressurised container, shaken in the Escherised time and space unique to our overdriven, red-lining present. The album's title nods to the financial contortions necessary to strive/survive/thrive as an independent artist. But Debt is better understood as the ledger of what we owe, and to whom, in the course of a creative life. What's the ROI on being an artist, a son, a friend, a partner, a father? Have we been worth our loved ones' own investments? If that sounds transactional, this is merely the lingua franca of our overwhelmingly digital culture, a grifter's bazaar in which Bob Dylan tunes up over Salt Bae, and Wordsworth's pitch is opposite the Rizzler.

Debt came to life when Harvey Sutherland acquired a freightload of Y2K minimal cargo from Akufen, Ricardo and Baby Ford—courtesy of local Melbourne hero Martin L—which bent the album towards a moreish pointillism. The resulting music's eyes-down minimal gestures within expressive pop shapes feels apt for the apparently contradictory things we can't help craving: immediacy and craft, on-tap "authenticity," life lessons drawn from Reel nonsense. A few years after the "neurotic funk" of Boy, a thorough excavation of interiority that comprised Harvey Sutherland's first LP proper, Debt is his to-the-point response to pressures that manifest outside the self. But in its own way it remains a reflection of Harvey Sutherland's musical innerscapes, which stretch across the grit and glitter of private-press disco and the sensual grids of Metro Area.

Multi-platinum selling artist Ashnikko makes their hotly anticipated return with ‘Smoochies’, set for release on 17th October.

Equal parts sexy, playful, and feminine, ‘Smoochies’ toes the line between the grotesque and the absurd. Moving past the pressures of viral fame, Ashnikko fully embraces their maximalist pop persona, blending club, country and hip-hop influences. The album stands as the "older sister" to DEMIDEVIL and a liberated evolution from WEEDKILLER. It's their most personal and collaborative work, trading fantasy worlds for autobiographical themes through the lens of the "Smoochie Girl”: a messy, chaotic and authentic figure who rejects beauty standards and the male gaze in favour of personal autonomy and joyful whimsy.



With hits like 'Daisy', 'Stupid' and 'Slumber Party' and a global fanbase built through worldwide sold-out tours, 'Smoochies' marks the start of a bold new era.

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.

John Calvin Abney rises again from the Oklahoman prairies with his latest album Transparent Towns. The ten songs focus on how we remember, and ultimately accept, though he is not always certain the memories we carry adequately mark the moments that make us. "This record is wrapped around the passage of time, whether or not we can trust the memories that we swear on, how we forgive ourselves and others as seasons turn, and how we define what is important as we roll the boulder back up the hill," Abney says of Transparent Towns. "We build these routines and live our stories, we rely on our histories and our memories - spoken and recorded. Now, we're relying on copies of copies, memories of memories, all packed like sardines into our phones, and we're losing the ability to tell our own stories. I have to constantly remind myself, as well as redefine what matters at the end of a day." Transparent Towns is the seventh studio album for Abney, and his first since 2022's Tourist, which he crafted after spending the pandemic as an itinerant writer. In contrast Abney penned most of the album's 10 tracks during a period of introspection and convalescence while recovering from vocal cord surgery in 2023. The time to himself - "I didn't sing for nearly a year, and after surgery, I couldn't talk for a month, and couldn't sing for over three months," he says, left him contemplating how to trace his experiences in the silence. The album's title track is Abney's take on the inaccessible past, witnessing loss and grief through the years, damning the "days we let go left unsaid", and accepting the uncontrollable circumstances we are sometimes placed in. "The troubles and the joys exist vibrantly in your memory, but you're wondering if you remember correctly," Abney remarks. "I've sometimes had this sort of confusion between memory and dreams - you crafted this ideal in your head of how things were or might be, in order to soften the blow of a harsher reality." The places we inhabit dictate how our memories form, and for Abney, there is one place to which he is constantly drawn: Oklahoma. Although he was born in the biggest little city in America, Reno, Nevada, he grew up learning guitar and piano in Tulsa, playing bars and DIY spaces from Norman to Stillwater. His affinity for the land that raised him is evident in the production of Transparent Towns. Abney self-produced the record, tracking most of it at Cardinal Song outside of Oklahoma City, with Michael Trepagnier handling mixing and engineering. The band was comprised mostly of Sooner State musicians too, along with Lydia Loveless and John Moreland contributing harmony vocals. His signature vulnerable voice and lyrical handiwork comes through in each of the songs, along with his penchant for alternative pop melodies set against colorful chords and subtle soundscapes. Having toured for years backing up artists like Moreland, Wild Child, Ben Kweller, and S.G. Goodman, Abney embraces a lead role again, as he presses forward with the loving lament and defiant joy throughout Transparent Towns, calling us to leave behind the pressures we place on our ourselves and recognize that just because there is an ending, it doesn't mean it's the end.

The hotly anticipated follow-up to 2007"s Horizons, Deep Blue raised the bar in every conceivable way. While maintaining the band"s uncompromising metallic-hardcore style at its core, it pushed into exciting new realms, drawing from a wider scope of influence, incorporating everything from anthemic pop-punk to bloodcurdling death metal. With improved musical abilities and a thoroughly inspired approach to songwriting, Parkway Drive has tied the music and lyrics together into one all-encompassing concept. "It"s basically about the search for truth in a world that seems to be devoid of that," says vocalist and lyricist Winston McCall, explaining the narrative running through Deep Blue. "The story is told through the eyes of a man who wakes up and realizes that his life is a lie and nothing he believes in is real. So he tries to find the truth within himself and his journey takes him to the bottom of the ocean and back again."

Stripping away all expectations, constraints, pressures, and limitations, there’s a certain purity and allure to art crafted simply for the sake of genuine expression. The desire to unleash one’s unencumbered ingenuity and unique vision into the world is an attitude embraced by those often celebrated for pushing boundaries, and it’s under this same premise that German newcomers SENNA were formed.
Drawing their name from the Arabic word for brightness, shine, or glow, bandmates Simon Masdjedi (vocals), Tobias Stulz (guitar/ vocals), Marcel Dürr (guitar), Fabian Cattarius (bass), and Leon Dorn(drums), never intended for SENNA–a musical outlet originally established as a studio side project–to come into its own as a fully-fledged unit. Yet, tackling a luminous blend of playful but technical instrumentation and edgy hard rock meets progressive post-hardcore styling, it’s only fitting that both the innovative outfit and their introductory work have entered the limelight for all to enjoy.
“It was really liberating,” guitarist Marcel Dürr recalls the group’s mindset leading up to their SharpTone debut. “Because we weren’t pursuing SENNA as a proper band at first, we had a lot of time to experiment with our sound. Our goal was to simply write the music that we enjoyed, without being boxed into any one genre.

Stripping away all expectations, constraints, pressures, and limitations, there’s a certain purity and allure to art crafted simply for the sake of genuine expression. The desire to unleash one’s unencumbered ingenuity and unique vision into the world is an attitude embraced by those often celebrated for pushing boundaries, and it’s under this same premise that German newcomers SENNA were formed.
Drawing their name from the Arabic word for brightness, shine, or glow, bandmates Simon Masdjedi (vocals), Tobias Stulz (guitar/ vocals), Marcel Dürr (guitar), Fabian Cattarius (bass), and Leon Dorn(drums), never intended for SENNA–a musical outlet originally established as a studio side project–to come into its own as a fully-fledged unit. Yet, tackling a luminous blend of playful but technical instrumentation and edgy hard rock meets progressive post-hardcore styling, it’s only fitting that both the innovative outfit and their introductory work have entered the limelight for all to enjoy.
“It was really liberating,” guitarist Marcel Dürr recalls the group’s mindset leading up to their SharpTone debut. “Because we weren’t pursuing SENNA as a proper band at first, we had a lot of time to experiment with our sound. Our goal was to simply write the music that we enjoyed, without being boxed into any one genre.

Tappa Zukie is not only one of Jamaica’s greatest DJ’s, is also a much respected producer and arranger. Looking back through his master tapes we have found a lost release that due to being a worldwide recording artist and the pressures that this carries, it has stayed on his musical shelf and been passed over... until now.

When rhythm was King way back in the 1970’s, the predominant feature of the final mix down would in most cases be the drums and bass. Bringing drums and bass to the fore, the other instruments that create the tunes mood would take a back seat in the mix. With such fine musicians in the horn sections as Vin Gordon, Deadly ‘Headley’ Bennett and the unstoppable Tommy McCook, it sometimes felt, their services if nothing else were slightly underused.

So one way of rectifying this situation was one that Tappa himself instigated, putting a release together by picking some of his favourite productions that carried classic horn lines alongside those tightly recorded rhythms. Pushing those horn lines up in the mix and so making a feature of some of those touches that although added some colour to the original cut, laid back in the mix to the more Sound System friendly drum and bass cut.

When looking at the music with this approach, some of the other influences that were also in Tappa’s mind can be noticed more. Maybe it’s a Jazzier / Bluesy feel shining through. A strange thing happens that almost takes the song down the avenue of a soundtrack album. An unreleased film score to accompany an unreleased film.

So sit back and enjoy a lost release that time and place did not find time to see the light of day. As the opening track testifies and in the immortal words of Mr Tappa Zukie himself.. “Your Musical Daddy is back... Horns Up !!!!”

Cross Record's new album, Crush Me, is steeped in the pressures and wonders of existence—a profound statement, especially coming from artist and death doula Emily Cross. A two-and-a-half-year gestation period offered challenges, disappointments, and joys reflected in the cramped space of the album, which explores how we handle the weights we carry. Emily Cross had held hundreds of Living Funerals and was as many episodes deep into her podcast, What I’m Looking At. She was five years into serving clients as a death doula and fresh off a tour with Loma, her band with Jonathan Meiburg (Shearwater) and Dan Duszynski, when she began work on her fourth album. After moving from Austin, TX to Dorset, UK, she established the Steady Waves Center for Contemplation (named after a track from her second record, Wabi-Sabi ), where she hosted Living Funerals, met clients, scheduled mindful tea sessions, and showcased experimental music nights. All the while, she was scribbling down song ideas. Cross’s Tascam four-track demos finally reached readiness, and she sent them to an interested major independent label. She was encouraged to push her imagination to the limits of what a record could be. So, unlike her usual process of recording as inexpensively as possible, she prepared a two-week recording session in Germany with a group of skilled musicians from around the world. True to her previous work, Cross left plenty of room in her demos for experimentation, collaboration, chance, improvisation, and complete obliteration, then resurrection when necessary. Comfort and traditional structure were eschewed in favor of unaccountable magic, prayers whispered into The Void. Cross is comfortable with the chaotic and unpredictable, a perspective demanded by her work and writing style. The Berlin Airbnb was packed with people, instruments and luggage. During a ride down in a tiny elevator to the studio, Cross realized how central the sense of being crushed was to the album. “I thought of it later and it dawned on me that ‘Crush Me’ perfectly embodied the record,” says Cross. Yes, the weight of a body laying limply atop yours, or the tight squeeze of a hug, can be pleasant. Go too far, and you’re in the hands of a cruel, adolescent god. Upon leaving Germany, the record was unfinished, and without a roadmap. As passages were recorded as isolated parts, Cross and musician Marcin Sulewski collaborated, facing a haphazard brick pile, waiting to be assembled. Work dipped in and out of view like a buoy bobbing in a violent sea over many months. During that time, the aforementioned interested label went radio silent, suddenly not seeming so sure of a thing. Collaborators disappeared, continuing the themes of abandonment, surrender, and disarray that followed the project. Cross physically felt her entire body go numb: In a twist of fate, the record was rescued by long-time friend and supporter Ben Goldberg at Ba Da Bing Records who was eager to help realize the project. Cross worked for months on the album, all the while nursing a pregnancy and continuing her full-time funeral work. The last minute participation of Seth Manchester of Machines with Magnets, who mixed and mastered, was an essential liferaft. He gave true final form to the abstracted songs. Crush Me has the effect of a spell being cast, with songs balancing heaviness and levity. Vocals, guitars, and keyboards float above, as drums and upright bass (often bowed) lurch beneath. On “Rolling Backwards” percussion wanders about while feedback squeals and persists in the distance. “Dorset Area Of Natural Beauty” starts with a thick, unhinged church organ progression punctuated by the disquieting sounds of laughter reaching the point of hysteria. “God Fax” is a slow-moving panic attack, with shallow breaths in and out framing a guttural cacophony like a wooden freighter encountering increasingly turbulent waters and vocals struck emotionless by autotune. The album ends with “Twisted Up Fence,” a reflection on life from outside the wall--wistful, warm, and comforting. Cross, likely with a smile on her face, sings: “You say it’s an endless abyss” “And I say the abyss is the best”