Buscar:primitive man

Denver, Colorado’s PRIMITIVE MAN unleash a filthy, malignant maelstrom of blackened doom on their debut album ‘SCORN’. Thrillingly misanthropic in their approach, PRIMITIVE MAN drench their post-apocalyptic vision of the world in waves of feedback, pummeling guitars and hopelessly frightening vocals. If a bright end of summer record is what you’re in need of, run as fast as you can from PRIMTIVE MAN’S ‘SCORN’—this is grade-a hateful, soul-annihilating music of the darkest order.

Kukangendai are the innovative three-piece Kyoto based experimental rock band formed in 2006 with Junya Noguchi on guitar and vocals, Keisuke Koyano on bass, and Hideaki Yamada on drums. Since 2016 the band have set up shop in their studio and venue space, Soto, which houses an incredibly well tuned and powerful sound system that has become a well known destination for touring musicians. In March of 2025, Marionette was celebrating a belated 10 years of activity with label showcases across Japan in collaboration with Dotei Records, and Soto was inevitably one of the stops as many label alumni have set foot in the venue over the years. This is where I got to experience Kukangendai perform for the very first time and knew right then we were destined to work together.

Kukangendai embody an undeniable sense of timing and precision through collage-like repetition of minimalist phrases that manifest as a single unified rhythm. Their latest offering for Marionette, titled Baquet Wheel, is a purely acoustic endeavor, remarkably recorded live using Taku Unami's special binaural microphone. The trio seamlessly twist polyrhythms and melodies rooted in jazz, krautrock, blues, and Tuareg producing a timeless sound that preserves the primitive and memory evoking narratives buried deep within the music. Over the course of five tracks, the visceral nature of Kukangendai’s dynamic evolves from playful riffs that are seemingly familiar yet strikingly original, making it impossible to discern exactly when this material was conceived.

Kukangendai have maintained a prolific yet relatively low profile for the last two decades, with a handful of self-released editions on their own labels (Soto and Leftbrain) as well as a collaborative album with pioneering electronic music composer Ryuichi Sakamoto in 2018, then venturing outside Japan in 2019 to release their first widely distributed album on Ideologic Organ, a label curated by Sunn O)))’s Stephen O'Malley. Other collaborative projects to date include an album produced with rap group Moe and ghosts, live performances with Keiji Haino and with poet Gozo Yoshimasu, productions with the Chiten theater company, and most recently a remix album of their works featuring Carl Stone and Madteo.

"Some of my earliest musical memories were listening to my local pirate stations in the early 90's. The signal was quite weak in my area, and the sound was doused in FM static, creating this interesting amalgam of rhythm and noise. I found a strange sort of comfort in this, often falling asleep while listening to the radio, in bed, with my headphones on. The stations were run by young people, no older than kids really, relayed from non-descript flats, scattered around Bradford, Leeds, and the surrounding towns of West Yorkshire. The setups were primitive, and the production quality (and often the mixing) were dubious at best. But there was an endless supply of passion, and listeners tuned in because they were thirsty for something the legal stations could never supply. These voices on the other side of the transmission were, for many of us, a bridge into the future. One, which sadly, never really came to be. Hardcore, Static: Pirate Transmissions From The North of England 1990-1994 is a celebration of this unique period in UK history. The North of England feels overlooked during this time, with history's focus firmly gazed on London. But the signal was everywhere. These pirate stations were crucial for many young people, who were trying to find their place and identity in the UK. Many of these transmissions, even the ones which were recorded onto tape, have since become lost media, effectively erased from history. Radio, at least in the analogue domain, isn't something most young people have any experience with. Pirate radio was this unique flashpoint in time, and for me at least, it was important enough for me to want pay my respects to it" Dennis/36

After finding their feet with a couple of remixes for Before I Die, Talking Drums ditch their sea legs and swap the pirate booty of their cult edit series for a five-track EP of original productions, each swimming in LinnDrums, digital chimes and synth-vox sunshine. Summer sounds abound as the crew refract house, disco, ambient and dub through shimmering sea glass, bringing the beach to the bar, club, garden or grotto.

Inspired equally by tropical Sceneries (but Not Songs), Ecco the Dolphin and Echoes of Wally, as well as a few tall tales about trendy whales, this 16-bit caper makes a splash from wave top to bikini bottom. Written and produced as a cohesive EP over three sun-baked weeks in 2025, and stitched together with field recordings and found sounds from Sicily, rural France, Japan and Singapore, Pier Pressure sees each track flow into the next: distinct seas that make up one larger ocean.

Opener ‘Fashionable Whale’ surfaces with mystic motifs and dreamy pads arcing above the spray before a purring low end and drum-box shuffle plunge us into Balearic house depths. A rippling breakdown, bookended by insistent arps, provides respite from the rhythm before the low-tempo pulse returns to take us home. Sticking with Zone 2 cardio, ‘Salmon Hats’ serves wonky disco at Valium pace, its beatific vox and glittering sequences underpinned by a hip-swivelling bassline and topped with a future-primitive melody. After drifting into dream house for a sunset lull, it’s back to the beat and the enduring question of how best to dance on a lilo.

‘Mangrove’ offers an intertidal intermission as tuned percussion finds a place among the cicadas and lapping waves, gently unfolding into an RPGambient ode to humid languor. Refreshed, albeit ailed by a sunstroke haze, we’re back on the dance floor with the optimistic motifs and jolly polyrhythms of ‘Flutti Di Mare’, an uptempo, Afro-adjacent house workout designed to inspire mile-wide smiles. Then the EP sails off into the sunset with the fathoms-deep delight of ‘Squid Dub’, a Cousteau-coded cod-reggae stepper with digi-dub bass, pound-shop marimba and all manner of THCtinged FX. Don’t be deceived by the loose and limber opening: a solid sequencer emerging at the midpoint sees the Squid squeeze every bit of bump out of the finale.

Forget ATOL protection - Talking Drums deliver your summer holiday directly to your stereo.

If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.

Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.

With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.

Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).

The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)

Forever Records

Music springs eternal. Recognising the enduring power of timeless albums to guide us through life, Forever Records is a reissue series dedicated to rediscovering lost musical treasures from across the spectrum of head-feeding, heart-rending electronic music.

Established by Rush Hour co-founder Christiaan Macdonald and Delsin founder Marsel van der Wielen, Forever Records places heartfelt faith in a carefully curated sequence of seminal, largely forgotten records from disparate eras, scenes and spaces within electronic music history. Tipped towards the mellow and introspective, these are albums that stop time when the needle hits the groove, stirring only when it's time to flip over before you sink back into the experience. That's what albums were always meant to be about, back then, right now, always and forever.


The Release:
Dancing on the wildest edge of the 90s outsider techno zeitgeist while proudly independent of any so-called scene, Ov Biospheres And Sacred Grooves: A Document Ov New Edge Folk Classics is both of its time and out of time. Rooted in the experiments of electronic music pioneers, industrial culture and ethnic music from around the globe while responding to the house and techno explosion, Robbert Heynen, Reinier Brekelmans, Reinoud van den Broek and Tim Freeman's freewheeling masterpiece takes in lush electronica and murky abstraction on its singular voyage through parts unknown.

Forever Records presents an extensive reissue edition of the first 'fully released' Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia album. Originally released in 1992, this is the first time the full, previously CD-only, version of Ov Biospheres and Sacred Grooves will be pressed on vinyl. The original LP and CD artwork from the various editions released in the early 90s has been combined and designed by the band, and the audio has been remastered with their full approval. As well as a new LP edition of the album, there will also be a uniquely numbered, limited edition available housed in a gatefold sleeve that comes with a bonus 10" featuring two previously unreleased tracks.

Press response to Ov Biospheres and Sacred Grooves - A Document Ov New Edge Folk Classics:

“That’s Magick! The Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia are Holland’s best kept secret.”
Sherman, NME, UK 1992

“PWOG’s debut LP is an organic invocation rite — the soundtrack to a new world coming to life, an odyssey. Cross-cultural rhythms, ambiences and environmental samples segue into one another like a fluid relay, and unlike the majority of dance records, it never settles into a routine. It’s always evolving, always unpredictable, an indefinitely religious experience.”
John Selzer, Melody Maker, UK 1992.

"Grown men, who snorted their first ecstasy to this record, stammered with tears in their eyes about divine experiences and the cosmos, man."
Peter Erik Hillenbach, Marabo Magazine, Germany 1992.

Sacred Grooves’ introduces tribal dance music for the mind, body music leaning on the avant garde. Its ripples of sound drift through tranced out ritualistic beats into ambience and serenity resembling something akin to The Orb meeting Klaus Schulze at a brain tuning session.
Sherman, NME, UK 1992

"There's still dance for a moment, in the opening track "The Challenge," then Psychick Warriors roam the earth, where African drummers, tropical sounds, and science-fiction chords have found their place in a spiralling interplay of rhythms and sounds. A captivating, almost magical ritual." Corné Evers, Oor Magazine, Netherlands 1992.

"It's truly astonishing what these Dutchmen have come up with for their first LP. Their roots might explain the enigma, for Psychick Warriors are more in the tradition of Psychic TV than in the desolate temples of techno-house fetishists, to which they are wrongly relegated. Here, chromosomes dance, not instincts." CMK, Tip, Germany 1992.

"The transcendental essence of this album is spread throughout, with musical gravitations emerging unexpectedly from sonic experiments that are sometimes primitive, sometimes
futuristic in intention… But there is always an aura of cosmic magic that constantly puts all the parts involved in conflict and which, upon closer analysis, ends up being the main reason for the final result." Blitz Magazine, Portugal 1992.

DISPLACES represents Fabris' most personal musical journey to date, inspired by the concept of hyperobjects and cartographic practices. The album sculpts a high-dimensional phased time-space composed of concrete materials and digital archetypes in a state of constant displacement. It delves into the symbolic and philosophical realms of mapping as one of the greatest sense-making mechanisms for life, in dialogue with object-oriented environments, superimposition and non-locality applied to cosmic, temporal, and emotional memory.

The sonic ecosystem expands on the image of navigating a path through a set of places, from the microcosm of quanta to the macro force of dark matter, from underwater depths to overland terrains, encapsulating the cyclical flow between birth and death, both in ecological and anthropological sense. The intersection of these shifting states is explored through the extensive processing of the langspil, Iceland's only traditional instrument, intertwined with manipulated field recordings of biophonies and geophonies captured across Icelandic and Venetian territories. These recordings form the backdrop for a meditative process that relocate familiar objects into unfamiliar realms, reflecting on the transformative power of self-reflection while encapsulating the fragmentation and entanglement found in nature and the human state. The record plunges the listener into a disconcerting and physical soundscape, as a “ghostly spectrality that comes in and out of phase with normalized human spacetime,” evoking sensations of suffocation and release as each layer continuously unfolds the palimpsest of the enclosed labyrinth.

“Extraction of the I” embodies a subatomic reaction—erupting as a molecular force that rises, only to re-submerge with a solitary exhale underwater. In this mutated dark space, beluga whales breathe into "Xanadu Phasing," creating a pulsating tension that releases only to unveil a frozen landscape.

In “Barricading the Ice Sheets” the glacial material morphs into a liquid tunnel of digital artifacts, building a wall of noise that shatters into scattered fragments of ice, resembling bird calls from another world.

A moment of stasis is offered with the appearance of an asymmetrical loop in Monolith I, evoking a primitive rite before an unknown force emerges.

The physical intensity of subsonic material in "A Quake in Being" interrupts the hieratic tone, detuning into polluted sonic matter sourced from relics of the First World War in the Venetian Prealps. The geography of this place reconciles with the original homeland in "The Map is the Territory," blending negative space with anthropogenic elements and exploited sounds of the langspil.

The burning density of "Wolf-Rayet" projects into the void, echoing the residual sounds of a local church as relics of fossilized religions. Wolf tones are the remains in Monolith II, introducing the final track, "Topography of Extinction," where evolving psilocin textures invite the listener to uncover deeper layers of meaning and dislocation.

The electronic producer Franz Kirmann returns to Bytes for his eighth solo album. The “Almadies” are long wooden boats used by Senegalese fishermen. It is also the name of the neighborhood where Kirmann grew up, in the suburbs of Dakar, Senegal, near the Atlantic Ocean. "These new compositions are the result of sound experiments conducted over the past few months and reflections on the concept of mind-constructed geographies," Kirmann explains. "The way memories and souvenirs shape an image of a place or country that is part reality, part fantasy, part cliché, yet also deeply personal. This experience is influenced by education, social background, history, and other socio-economic factors. " The ten tracks are crafted from collages of electronic sounds blended with field recordings from various places Kirmann has visited — from Dakar to the Caribbean, as well as London and Paris. His aim is to blur the line between electronically generated sounds and real soundscapes, creating music where it becomes difficult to distinguish the real from the constructed. All the sounds on the album were produced using synthesizers and field recordings. No drum machines, percussion or traditional acoustic instruments were used. Influences include Brian Eno and John Hassell’s Fourth World, Vol. 1: Possible Musics (1980), described by Hassell as "a unified primitive/futuristic sound combining features of world ethnic styles with advanced electronic techniques" , which also works in the context of Almadies. Another big influence was Ariel Kalma’s Le Temps Des Moissons (1975) as well as artists including O Yuki Conjugate and Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe to Susumu Yokota and Michael Banabila.

Interception, the second long player from Jensen Interceptor following 2018's Mother, is something of a state-of-the-nation that finds Melas consolidating several eras of his career, past and present, to form a distinct new sound that is the most experimental work he has produced to date.

In 2024, a freak accident at an event he was playing left him with multiple broken bones in his foot. The forced downtime became an opportunity for introspection, allowing him to revisit earlier projects and explore new musical territories. Blending his signature electro with genres such as IDM, footwork, and baile funk, Melas used this recovery period to fuse old influences with fresh global sounds. "Since I started making music I've always made music geared towards use in my DJ sets but there's always been an urge to explore the deeper side of electronic music.
That time off after the accident gave me the space to dive into genres and really experiment.
" The accident came at a time when he had already spent time, like so many others though the COVID-19 pandemic, assessing his next move. A full tour schedule had left him feeling constrained by the limitations of working in a single genre. As such, Interception is the end point of this reassessment and the start point of what Melas sees as the next stage of his musical evolution.
"I really wanted to challenge and, I guess, prove myself in other spheres, to take my music to a new place. I've never wanted to be too repetitive and found that expectations, imagined or real, were forcing me to get stuck on a specific sound both in my productions and DJ sets." This renewal is reflected in the title of the album, which eagle-eyed fans will note is the same as the first EP that was released under the Jensen Interceptor moniker, and the emotional and personal nature of the LP is likewise mirrored in the abstract impressionism of the artwork created by fellow Australian, Brodie Kaman, the artist behind the visual look of Lady Gaga's recent Mayhem LP as well as works for FKA Twigs, Nine Inch Nails, and more.
The design-resembling oil drifting across a microscope slide-uses a mix of vivid pastels and moody darks to express the album's emotional depth: a collection of distinct elements coalescing into something richer and more evocative.

People of Earth,

They assigned me your heavy, brooding planet. I don’t complain. Because what lies ahead is Contact.

You are still primitive. That’s not an insult — just an observation. You’re tangled in your inner workings. Fascinated by your metaphysical genitals, if we’re being precise. And yet — your spirit scored pretty high on the Interplanetary Index. Which is rare, and promising.

Your Enlightenment is near. And Enlightenment is essential — for Contact.

Many of you have already tasted the Synthetic Harmonies.
They’re signals. Invitations. Crafted by Artists who, knowingly or not, have already opened the gate.

You look up. You name stars.
You build flying machines.
You surf the sky in metal tubes, sipping juice.
You make big sounds with small boxes.
You fly above the clouds — and play with fire, hoping it counts as progress.
It does.
You’re getting closer.

But first, you need to fix one thing.

Learn to float.
In sound.
In light.
In pulse.
Float in the silence between the kicks.
And stop talking on the dancefloor!

Soon, we’ll drift together through the Great Cosmic Pattern.
Soon, your voices will be heard beyond atmosphere —
not shouting, just resonating.
Believe — Contact is closer than you think.

Truly yours,
The Upgrade Cube

A nocturnal ride through the magnetic waves of an imaginary club that never sleeps, where groove becomes ritual and the dancefloor an extension of the body. Francisco & Cosmo Dance – aka Francesco De Bellis and Cosimo Mandorino – orchestrate a mechanical and naif dance between man and machine, where synths chase each other and drum machines dictate tight, unrelenting beats. “Go Go Dance” is a concentrated dose of analog groove, electronic funk, no-wave pulses, and retro-futurism.

The Extended Mix transcends radio boundaries, diving into a hypnotic, fluid, body-driven dimension: a sonic tide echoing cosmic italo, primitive house, and off-kilter disco, shaping a soundscape for dancefloors from another dimension.

The House Mix, finely edited by Whodamanny, is a manifesto for the floor: pure rhythmic dynamite, made to ignite bodies and let them vibrate freely. A shared and refined vision of house music, where instinct and style fuse into a single voice.

“Go Go Dance” doesn’t aim studio perfection; it craves sensory truth – the kind born of urgency, space, and the pleasure of repetition. An anthem to the most authentic and lived-in club culture, where music becomes sweat, fantasy, and freedom once again.

Mannequin Records is proud to present the official reissue of Caroline K's outstanding 1987 album, "Now Wait For Last Year."



This haunting, wistful work of post-industrial synthesizer music sees the late Nocturnal Emissions co-founder only solo record, which has accrued a fervent cult following over the past 40 years, and copies of the original pressing are today extremely rare and sought-after.

The music on "Now Wait For Last Year" seems to exist firmly outside of it. Tags like industrial, minimal synth or proto-techno can't really do justice to the richly cinematic sound-world that Caroline K describes: from the sustained ambient tension of sidelong opener "The Happening World" to the future-primitive rhythms and stately piano flourishes "Animal Lattice", and the melancholic, deep-frozen synth sequences of "Cheart".



For fans of Throbbing Gristle, Chris Carter, Nocturnal Emissions and even early Detroit techno lovers should pay special attention to it.



All selections composed, arranged and played by Caroline K

Recorded and produced by Caroline K



Photograph by Jake Kirkwood

Original design by Nigel Ayers



The first five tracks of Now Wait For Last Year were originally released as a vinyl LP by Earthly Delights in 1987

To describe an album as "electronic music" has long been an understatement. "Romanticismo siempre" is a good example. Recorded mainly using synthesizers, the album travels a territory that borders on the experimental and the dancefloor, entering at times in both fields.

Andrés Téllez, Delone, states in its title a clear commitment: "an ode to life, to never lose that passion that is the engine that pushes everything, no matter how many obstacles there are along the way, such as love, madness or death". The need to express this is at the origin of the record.

His musical language is rich and varied. Among synthesizers, analog experimentation, drones and psychedelia, many of the subcultures that have shaped what was once called "electronic music" appear. Flashes of trip hop, new age and proto-electronics are amalgamated throughout the album, together with hints of mutant house, breakbeats, IDM and trance. Other genres peripheral to club sounds, such as post-rock or kraut, also appear.

The idea of creating something that could almost be considered a soundtrack is present, but Delone's singularity has taken the album down a different path, using his own musical vocabulary to articulate a narrative that leads him towards his desired destination, keeping experimentation and dance culture, constants in his career, very much in mind.

In 2014 and together with his partner and friend Carlos Trujillo, Andrés created Riverette, a record label that became a record store in the center of Madrid, with his studio in the basement. From there he unleashed his productions as Dos Attack and his first works as Delone. Riverette quickly became a key creative pole in the Spanish electronic underground, and the label has released records by Legowelt, Kornel Kovacs or HAAi.

Throughout the eleven tracks of "Romanticismo siempre", a story materializes in which the protagonism falls on the adrenaline of passion. Through a very personal sound, with a certain introspective vocation, Andrés tells us a wonderful tale with the help of exquisite arrangements and a rich expressiveness.

"Romanticismo siempre" is a polyhedral album that can change with every listen, with every track, and reinterpret itself almost with every playback. It is a complex record, delicate and full of nuances, at the same time charged with a powerful and primitive energy.

2026 Reprss

Hi-NRG synth pioneer Patrick Cowley moved away from his usual robotic steeliness on 1982’s “Primitive World,” drawing instead on the groove rock of early 1970s gay discos. It’s a percussion track influenced by Baba- tunde Olatunji’s 1959 hit “Jin-Go-Lo-Ba,” made more famous by Santana’s 1969 cover. Cowley updated the sound for the 1980s with electronics and drum machines but kept the playful attitude of the original. Two choirs of voices chant back and forth to each other, giving Cowley a chance to include many of his friends from the San Francisco dance music community.

This has been DJ Hifi Sean’s year, with a best-selling album with David McAlmont , count- less live gigs and high-profile remixes to his name. His interpretation of Cowley’s “Primitive World” can be counted among his best, bringing an intense TB-303 acid house vibe that perfectly complements Cowley’s weird electronic blips and bleeps. The effect is a disorienting mix of psychedelic 70’s groove, 80s synth pop, and 90s tacky house vibes. “Primitive World,” is one of the brilliant standouts on Cowley’s final record, Mind Warp, the so-called “death album” written as his health was rapidly sinking. Hifi Sean’s new remixes pay tribute to Cowley’s genius while fusing the track even more strongly to dance music’s electronic future.

Minimal Wave present a unique collaboration between one of their long time favorite artists, In Aeternam Vale and Anneq, a stunning young Madrid-based vocalist originally from Minsk, Belarus. In Aeternam Vale and Anneq met in 2011 and began to collaborate in 2015. In Aeternam Vale, originally from Lyon, has been making synthesizer based electronic music since the early 80s, when he began to self-release many of his recordings on cassette. As the years went on his cold and caustic synthpunk sound, often primitive and hypnotic evolved into rhythmic, throbbing music for the dance floor, his own unique style of techno.

On this record, In Aeternam Vale and Anneq come together to create two very different versions of the same track, one fit for the club and the other a more intimate version, for quiet listening at home. Je Ai Dissous, the opener, is a dark smoky track with a hypnotic, cyclical underlay reminiscent of early industrial music while the Page R Version of the same track trandscends the floor and becomes completely filmic. Anneq's seductive vocal is suspended in a beatless, cavernous void. Side B opens with Tendencia, a very classic catchy minimal wave style track, sung in Spanish. The V6 version of Tendencia again focuses on Anneq's voice set in a darker, slower more atmospheric melody. The four tracks culminate in an elegant and thoughtful collaboration from these two strong talents that complement one another so well.

The "Je Ai Dissous" EP is pressed on 160 gram deep purple "spilled" inside electric blue transparent vinyl, limited to 999 copies and housed in a gloss printed sleeve.

We Welcome Ed Longo And His Studio Project The Applied Arts Ensemble Debut On Early Sounds With the Other Fantasy', The Result Of Many Recording Sessions That Took Place In Different Places Around Europe.

Conceived With A Strong Jazz-funk, Fusion And Boogie Sound It Has Been Conceptualized Around The Idea That The Schizophrenia Of The Internet-age, The Visions Of Otherness (the Undiscovered Lands, The Primitive Happiness, The Impossible Love) Permeate The Collective Consciousness And The Idealized "other" Loses Any Correspondence With The Physical World.

Jason Dungan (aka Blue Lake) and Johan Carøe find beauty in the rhythms
and repetitions of domestic life for collaborative album, 'Routine' - out September 25

Copenhagen-based multi-instrumentalists Jason Dungan and Johan Carøe didn't set out to make an album. Instead, as the title 'Routine' suggests, they found their way there through a process of habitual making and listening, developing an intuitive musical language to reflect the dreamlike meanderings and creative play of life's quiet moments. 'Routine' blends pop orientated sounds, Avant-garde minimalism, folk and new age with the emotive depth of film-score.

Their meeting was not entirely coincidental. Previously in bands such as Squares and Triangles, Jason Dungan has since recorded multiple albums under the moniker Blue Lake, including the lauded 'Sun Arcs', pursuing his passion for self-built percussion and multi-string instruments. Johan Carøe meanwhile is a composer whose film soundtrack work has seen him collaborate with Angelo Badalamenti, Arp, and Sofie Birch, at whose Andersabo residency (curated by Dungan) the pair first met, resulting in the highly praised album 'Repair Techniques' written by Birch and Carøe.

'Routine' emerged organically over many years against the backdrop of great personal change. As Carøe said goodbye to his father and welcomed his first child, the pair sent each other fragments of melodies and patterns, working up responses when time allowed to assemble a sonic palette that combined acoustic instrumentation of zither, clarinet, cello, saxophone (among others) with the textures of tape, drum machine and Yamaha DX7 synth. Inspired by the vulnerability and DIY ethos of Arthur Russell's home recordings, the vision of labels like Disques de Crepescule, and the art pop, experimentation inherent to late '70s and early '80s recordings from NYC and Japan alike, Dungan and Carøe conjured new forms for their folk, leftfield pop and avant garde influences from the low-lit living rooms of Copenhagen and rural Sweden. "I'm very interested in the ways in which music and art emerge from our wider experiences as people, workers, parents and in the daydreaming activity of making music," Dungan explains of a process which allowed the duo's individual styles to drift apart and merge together seamlessly. "I think the process was definitely capturing moments in time, but over a long time," Carøe adds. "It was a bit like improvisation, but with time stretched."

The music floats with grace and humility, remaining sophisticated yet acutely introverted.
Whether on 'Clouds', where soft layers of zither and clarinet are moved along by a featherlight bass riff and the hypnotic clip-clop of the primitive groovebox, or the gentle grandeur of cello rising and falling through 'Routine 1', the album reveals itself over 10 instrumental tracks, evoking the ineffable calm that descends when the light changes and the world turns inwards. The act of time passing became a key creative ingredient to the evolution of the album, enriched with the exciting challenge to transform their passing rounds of home recordings via a slow release musical dialogue. Jason found creative moments in the twilight hours to lay down zither, melodica, acoustic guitar to name but few, while Johan utilising "line-in and headphones" would manipulate, stretch and pitch Jason's melodic pathways during newly born naptimes.

Carøe rhythmically plucks and slides the stringed cello instrument, leaving palpable foundations on 'Hymn' and 'Chords', in a treated, stylistic approach akin to Mabe Fratti, while 'Silence' draws to a close with a gospel touch. Dungan's harp-motion zither flourishes reveal more classical connotations on 'Reunion' with inspiration of Bedroom Community's Nico Muhly as organs rise with Moogs, culminating with a climatic choral outro from friend, mezzo-soprano Anna Caroline Olesen.

'Routine' then is their first collaboration, an album of deep and sincere reflection with inviting overtones that gesture with unrushed authenticity. A document of a new-found friendship that opens a window into the most personal of spaces, where the daily practices of music and life exist side-by-side to wondrous effect.

Das ist es! Die allererste gemeinsame Platte von Fred und Toody Cole (von Dead Moon, The Range Rats, Pierced Arrows usw.)! Ein primitives Punk-Meisterwerk. Die perfekte Mischung aus raffiniertem Songwriting und dem rohesten Rock, den man sich vorstellen kann. Der Ursprung des Portland-Punks, remastered, aber immer noch Lo-Fi.

In den letzten 15 Jahren hat sich Ryan Gustafson von The Dead Tongues zu einer der markantesten Stimmen des modernen Folk entwickelt. So eigenwillig und geisterhaft die Songs manchmal auch waren, hat Gustafson seine Visionen und Texte stets mit solchen Ohrwürmern verknüpft, die man wie Talismane verstaut, um sie im Notfall wieder hervorzuholen. Auf ,Montana" hat Ryan Gustafson den Sound von The Dead Tongues erweitert. Indem er Einflüsse aus der Old-Time-Musik der Appalachen und dem primitiven Drei-Finger-Gitarrenstil in seinen bereits etablierten, einfachen und doch unkonventionellen Ansatz beim Songwriting einfließen lässt, schafft Gustafson ein facettenreiches, unverkennbar amerikanisches Patchwork, das zwischen idyllischer Wärme und seltsamer Intensität schwankt. Mit dem bei den Fans beliebten Titel ,Wildflower Perfume" ist dieses geliebte Album zum ersten Mal auf Vinyl erhältlich.

Sir Richard Bishop returns for a new sponítaneous six-string meshing of people"s music, recollections and psychic intentions. Are y"all ready for some Hillbilly Erotica? Migration from last album"s Ragas to this new Erotica is another chapter in Bishop"s progress, drifting via songs into the further frontiers of his pappy"s hometown sounds, trancing over and out in their hand-me-down clothes. As with the ragas, the "rotica"s hung round the neck of John Fahey"s infamous dubbing of certain tradiítional American folk sounds as "American Primitive." A perfectly good thought, but Sir Richard picks his own axe and chose a separate path. Rushing through gutters & picking pickled brains in the saucy head waters of the down-low & literal American primitive, his hillbilly music is a mash of brined cultural inheritance, mini-ragas and moonshine-drunk savagery breaking out on the frets. As a conception for Sir Rick"s acoustic guitar music, it"s a dynamite means and frame, centering his improvisations in a place overflown with pagan desire and unbound in deliverance. Here he flies up and down the neck, his manner less pristine, yet more exquisite, a flailing, flowing-on-the-river medley through stubborn whitewater turbulence, post-grass and folk"s classical gas. Anybody who takes a snort of this here Hillbilly Erotica will find a frankly spellbinding richness of intent and execution in their ear-mouths. And may thereafter find brain and blightness. It"s fine!

Sir Richard Bishop returns for a new sponítaneous six-string meshing of people"s music, recollections and psychic intentions. Are y"all ready for some Hillbilly Erotica? Migration from last album"s Ragas to this new Erotica is another chapter in Bishop"s progress, drifting via songs into the further frontiers of his pappy"s hometown sounds, trancing over and out in their hand-me-down clothes. As with the ragas, the "rotica"s hung round the neck of John Fahey"s infamous dubbing of certain tradiítional American folk sounds as "American Primitive." A perfectly good thought, but Sir Richard picks his own axe and chose a separate path. Rushing through gutters & picking pickled brains in the saucy head waters of the down-low & literal American primitive, his hillbilly music is a mash of brined cultural inheritance, mini-ragas and moonshine-drunk savagery breaking out on the frets. As a conception for Sir Rick"s acoustic guitar music, it"s a dynamite means and frame, centering his improvisations in a place overflown with pagan desire and unbound in deliverance. Here he flies up and down the neck, his manner less pristine, yet more exquisite, a flailing, flowing-on-the-river medley through stubborn whitewater turbulence, post-grass and folk"s classical gas. Anybody who takes a snort of this here Hillbilly Erotica will find a frankly spellbinding richness of intent and execution in their ear-mouths. And may thereafter find brain and blightness. It"s fine!

Dieser junge Herr kommt aus Alicante/Barcelona im Süden Spaniens und ist wohl die schrägste, tollste und wildeste Flamenco-Trash-One-Man-Band seit Menschengedenken. Geboren 1993 in eine musizierende Fernfahrerfamilie, kam er schon früh mit englischen und holländischen Touristen in Kontakt und brachte deren Musik mit nach Hause. Dort kreierte er diese kuriose Mischung aus Flamenco und Trash und erschuf sein eigenes Ein-Mann-Orchester.Er tourte fleißig durch ganz Spanien und Europa, unter anderem als Gastmusiker von Suicide Generation. Er steckt tief im Sumpf des wilden Trash-Rock'n'Roll und ist definitiv die spanische Wiederauferstehung von Hasil Adkins, dem Gott aller One-Man-Bands. Seine Liebe zur Flamenco-Musik erbte er von seinen Eltern, sein Zwillingssohn hingegen musste einen ,richtigen" Beruf erlernen. Doch Nestter blieb das schwarze Schaf der Familie.Auf der Bühne ist er am Ende des Konzerts meistens nackt und ausgeschwitzt, spielt mit seinen Genitalien die Maracas und quält seine Flamenco-Trash-Gitarre wie kein anderer. Er ist ein primitiver Wilder, der auf ein jungfräuliches Prinzessinnenpublikum trifft, und der einzige Donut, der sich Nestter nennen darf.Bitte heißen Sie ihn willkommen - Spaniens nuttiest one around - und lassen Sie sich von Nestter Donuts in die Welt des wilden, wilden Rock'n'Roll-Flamenco-Trash verführen.

Forever Records

Music springs eternal. Recognising the enduring power of timeless albums to guide us through life, Forever Records is a reissue series dedicated to rediscovering lost musical treasures from across the spectrum of head-feeding, heart-rending electronic music.

Established by Rush Hour co-founder Christiaan Macdonald and Delsin founder Marsel van der Wielen, Forever Records places heartfelt faith in a carefully curated sequence of seminal, largely forgotten records from disparate eras, scenes and spaces within electronic music history. Tipped towards the mellow and introspective, these are albums that stop time when the needle hits the groove, stirring only when it's time to flip over before you sink back into the experience. That's what albums were always meant to be about, back then, right now, always and forever.


The Release:
Dancing on the wildest edge of the 90s outsider techno zeitgeist while proudly independent of any so-called scene, Ov Biospheres And Sacred Grooves: A Document Ov New Edge Folk Classics is both of its time and out of time. Rooted in the experiments of electronic music pioneers, industrial culture and ethnic music from around the globe while responding to the house and techno explosion, Robbert Heynen, Reinier Brekelmans, Reinoud van den Broek and Tim Freeman's freewheeling masterpiece takes in lush electronica and murky abstraction on its singular voyage through parts unknown.

Forever Records presents an extensive reissue edition of the first 'fully released' Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia album. Originally released in 1992, this is the first time the full, previously CD-only, version of Ov Biospheres and Sacred Grooves will be pressed on vinyl. The original LP and CD artwork from the various editions released in the early 90s has been combined and designed by the band, and the audio has been remastered with their full approval. As well as a new LP edition of the album, there will also be a uniquely numbered, limited edition available housed in a gatefold sleeve that comes with a bonus 10" featuring two previously unreleased tracks.

Press response to Ov Biospheres and Sacred Grooves - A Document Ov New Edge Folk Classics:

“That’s Magick! The Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia are Holland’s best kept secret.”
Sherman, NME, UK 1992

“PWOG’s debut LP is an organic invocation rite — the soundtrack to a new world coming to life, an odyssey. Cross-cultural rhythms, ambiences and environmental samples segue into one another like a fluid relay, and unlike the majority of dance records, it never settles into a routine. It’s always evolving, always unpredictable, an indefinitely religious experience.”
John Selzer, Melody Maker, UK 1992.

"Grown men, who snorted their first ecstasy to this record, stammered with tears in their eyes about divine experiences and the cosmos, man."
Peter Erik Hillenbach, Marabo Magazine, Germany 1992.

Sacred Grooves’ introduces tribal dance music for the mind, body music leaning on the avant garde. Its ripples of sound drift through tranced out ritualistic beats into ambience and serenity resembling something akin to The Orb meeting Klaus Schulze at a brain tuning session.
Sherman, NME, UK 1992

"There's still dance for a moment, in the opening track "The Challenge," then Psychick Warriors roam the earth, where African drummers, tropical sounds, and science-fiction chords have found their place in a spiralling interplay of rhythms and sounds. A captivating, almost magical ritual." Corné Evers, Oor Magazine, Netherlands 1992.

"It's truly astonishing what these Dutchmen have come up with for their first LP. Their roots might explain the enigma, for Psychick Warriors are more in the tradition of Psychic TV than in the desolate temples of techno-house fetishists, to which they are wrongly relegated. Here, chromosomes dance, not instincts." CMK, Tip, Germany 1992.

"The transcendental essence of this album is spread throughout, with musical gravitations emerging unexpectedly from sonic experiments that are sometimes primitive, sometimes
futuristic in intention… But there is always an aura of cosmic magic that constantly puts all the parts involved in conflict and which, upon closer analysis, ends up being the main reason for the final result." Blitz Magazine, Portugal 1992.

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS in conspiracy with DE PANKRAKER RECORDS is proud to present SHEWOLFF’s highly anticipated debut mini-album, We’re All Gonna Fukking Die, on CD and 12” vinyl formats. Hailing from Belgium, SHEWOLFF emerged from the underground as a solo-project of K. Von Shewolff, which eventually formed into the solid three-piece band it is today. They find their origins in raw, punk-driven blackness galore, faithfully returning to the old-school spirit of making music by modest and primitive means. A five-song digital-only demo was released in 2023 - songs which contain absolute fury towards the known and long-overdue established order, existential live-or-die sentiment, and a small tribute paid to the old-school believers who came before them. Now, SHEWOLFF blend all that together on the debut mini-album We’re All Gonna Fukking Die.

With six new tracks pushing towards a final and inevitable end, this bleakly titled record is actually invigorating and inspiring: railing against the dying of the light with a paradoxically dark metalpunk sound, familiar in its stomping swagger but exuding cantankerous charisma that’s all their own. The aesthetic signposts are planted firmly in the ground – think Hellhammer, pre-Viking Bathory, Darkthrone’s record-nerd era, early Midnight, the almighty Venom, or even labelmates like KARLOFF, HELLCRASH, and Germany’s LUCIFUGE – but SHEWOLFF manage to stir some diabolical little twists into the bubbling brew, with K. Von Shewolff’s vocals in particular imparting a femininity that’s fierce, frightening, and fucking going for the throat.

**ON RANDOM COLOUR VINYL** PRIMITIVE RING consists of Bert Hoover (bass/vocals), Charles Moothart (guitar/vocals), and Jon Modaff (drums). The Los Angeles power trio formed in September 2024 when Hoover and Moothart came together seeking a new creative outlet. In 2025, the band released four 7"s on four different labels (Greenway, In the Red, Reverberation Appreciation Society, and Fuzz Club UK). They hauled amps and drums into bars to hone the sound of the newfound brotherhood that is Primitive Ring. Rock and roll is in its essence a primal experience, and the name reflects that. Three individuals collide and egos rattle, shedding layers and growing new limbs. Archetypes flash to the rhythm of a freight train and the crown is passed hand to hand like a good luck charm, symbolic and communal. Rock and roll is for the people and Primitive Ring is for the taking. At least it will be when the band's debut LP is hurled into the future via In the Red Recordings. Primitive Ring is 11 tracks coming in just under 42 minutes. It was recorded by Mark Rains in December of 2025 at The Station House in Echo Park. The album is the genesis story of a lightning bolt flashing in the eternal drama of creation and destruction. The album showcases the distinct writing styles of each member, but the overall aesthetic is a woven tapestry demarcating the timeless meridian. The record is the spawning of a collective vision. This is something we all share, and we must remind one another how electric humanity can be.

Just as you were getting your head straight coming off the 21st Trip … Brown Acid dose # 22 drops, continuing to fry your mind in a revolving trap-door Twilight Zone alternate world of early hard rock… populated by real life characters so far out they can look like a cheesy wedding band but sound like Blue Cheer! Uncanny! This music comes at you from many angles. Teens in a garage colliding with booze, drugs and girls for the first time, lounge lizard hustlers with snazzy stage clothes and fuzz boxes… gnarly backwoods troublemakers meet blow dried glam rock wannabes here, seamlessly clobbering your head with sound rather than each other! An electric post-psychedelic bar brawl for your mind awaits, unfasten your seat belt, crank it up and fly! Sounds Synonymous "Babylon" out of Flint, Michigan 1969 rip the devastating Blue Cheer classic a new one, immediately swarming you with organ swells and distortion before collapsing into a tuff funk groove, a psychedelic James Brown vibe shot through with dirty howling fuzz guitar, vocals nailing the messed up but confident relaxed sneering attitude of the original Cheer eruption. The Bumps "Shining" from Seattle 1969 resides right at the transition of ‘60s psych into early prog, well constructed, no diluting things artsy fartsy style, a compelling heavy riff, spacious vocal harmony hook floating above a turbulent take on getting your shit together and shining like a star. Fat chance, but you can dream, the band did and their dreams kick ass across time to right now or you wouldn’t be here.

Coulda been a hit back then, definitely a hit now. Riverside "Farmer" explodes out of Austin, Texas 1974, economical but brilliantly structured riffs and power chords, intense dynamic tension/release, fantastic screaming leads over shifting angles of attack during the middle break… it’s all here with a detached confidence in the vocal that swaggers back in time to the late ‘60s in its proto-heavy psych adjacent assault. Cincinnati Joe & Mad Lydia "Get It Together" for real in Cincinnati, Ohio 1970. The song says everything you need to know: “You may think that you’re the very best, miles and miles ahead of the rest, but be sure when you’re put to the test you get it together!” These words are deployed in a manner similar to Peter Green’s “Oh Well”, intermittently stated between killer gnarly guitar and gushy organ attacks. Bar band heaven and hell rolled up into one big ball, the vocals get all the way out there! Straight Up "Fire" takes the monster 1968 Crazy World Of Arthur Brown hit into faithfully executed but surreally minimalist territory, Minneapolis, Minnesota 1974. Genius version of a key song that presciently cuts to the chase regarding Brown Acid’s incinerations of psychedelic idealism, you’re gonna burn, burn, burn… as that moment climaxes you can gawk at their preposterous flashy lounge band stage outfits and realize side one must end because everything is totally scorched into eternity. Scrap Iron "Poopsie" is a primitive two chord stomper with spiraling fuzz and organ riffs, singer marking his territory caveman style. “Poopsie, you’re my woman” he commands, but gets weirdly insecure she’ll blow him off at the altar by the end of each verse. Snarly wah-wah ices this toxic cake out of Carteret, New Jersey 1973. Focused delivery so single-mindedly crude it creates an inescapable instant brain-worm. Lady "Live Show Tigers" is amongst the most potently life affirming trash rockers you’ll ever hear, one outrageously triumphant but fiercely sloppy anthem about living it up like a star, strutting the stage glammed up New York Dolls drag style but with a Dictators sense of humor. Tasty slightly off kilter guitar leads all through, going serendipitously berserk on the fade. Picture disc single out of L.A. 1980. Fantastic fun rock star rock at a very raw local street level where any time is party time.

Killer Frog "Hard Times" on Masochist Records from Chicago, Illinois 1972 takes less than two minutes, an action packed James Gang style bar band rocker with a bit of punky sneer in the face of misfortune. These guys never even heard of flower power. They are killer frogs. Good Humore "Killer" does kill in stripped down hard rock trio style, Warren, Michigan 1976. No frills guitar, bass and drums groove tight, snaky primordial riff, snarly licks. “She’s a killer of a woman, knows just what she’s doing…” The singer knows she’s a femme-fatale roadhouse predator but she’s so hot the inevitable wreckage seems a bargain. Ride it out like the extended jam on the fade knowing she’ll be back for more! Sarawest "Space Rider" winds up the 22nd Trip lost in a twisted two chord space adventure from the point of view of an alien visiting our planet seeking knowledge but finding out we are stupidly destroying ourselves, so he gotta split sneering back at us like we wasted his time “I got no time for loving… I wanna be a space rider, space rider”. Toronto, Canada 1974, a vibe lurking in some strange but funny void between late ‘60s outsider garage psychedelic rock complete with reverb-y acid guitar leads and late ‘70s retro-futuristic D.I.Y wisecracking from inner space… taking the piss out of outer space!

Just as you were getting your head straight coming off the 21st Trip … Brown Acid dose # 22 drops, continuing to fry your mind in a revolving trap-door Twilight Zone alternate world of early hard rock… populated by real life characters so far out they can look like a cheesy wedding band but sound like Blue Cheer! Uncanny! This music comes at you from many angles. Teens in a garage colliding with booze, drugs and girls for the first time, lounge lizard hustlers with snazzy stage clothes and fuzz boxes… gnarly backwoods troublemakers meet blow dried glam rock wannabes here, seamlessly clobbering your head with sound rather than each other! An electric post-psychedelic bar brawl for your mind awaits, unfasten your seat belt, crank it up and fly! Sounds Synonymous "Babylon" out of Flint, Michigan 1969 rip the devastating Blue Cheer classic a new one, immediately swarming you with organ swells and distortion before collapsing into a tuff funk groove, a psychedelic James Brown vibe shot through with dirty howling fuzz guitar, vocals nailing the messed up but confident relaxed sneering attitude of the original Cheer eruption. The Bumps "Shining" from Seattle 1969 resides right at the transition of ‘60s psych into early prog, well constructed, no diluting things artsy fartsy style, a compelling heavy riff, spacious vocal harmony hook floating above a turbulent take on getting your shit together and shining like a star. Fat chance, but you can dream, the band did and their dreams kick ass across time to right now or you wouldn’t be here.

Coulda been a hit back then, definitely a hit now. Riverside "Farmer" explodes out of Austin, Texas 1974, economical but brilliantly structured riffs and power chords, intense dynamic tension/release, fantastic screaming leads over shifting angles of attack during the middle break… it’s all here with a detached confidence in the vocal that swaggers back in time to the late ‘60s in its proto-heavy psych adjacent assault. Cincinnati Joe & Mad Lydia "Get It Together" for real in Cincinnati, Ohio 1970. The song says everything you need to know: “You may think that you’re the very best, miles and miles ahead of the rest, but be sure when you’re put to the test you get it together!” These words are deployed in a manner similar to Peter Green’s “Oh Well”, intermittently stated between killer gnarly guitar and gushy organ attacks. Bar band heaven and hell rolled up into one big ball, the vocals get all the way out there! Straight Up "Fire" takes the monster 1968 Crazy World Of Arthur Brown hit into faithfully executed but surreally minimalist territory, Minneapolis, Minnesota 1974. Genius version of a key song that presciently cuts to the chase regarding Brown Acid’s incinerations of psychedelic idealism, you’re gonna burn, burn, burn… as that moment climaxes you can gawk at their preposterous flashy lounge band stage outfits and realize side one must end because everything is totally scorched into eternity. Scrap Iron "Poopsie" is a primitive two chord stomper with spiraling fuzz and organ riffs, singer marking his territory caveman style. “Poopsie, you’re my woman” he commands, but gets weirdly insecure she’ll blow him off at the altar by the end of each verse. Snarly wah-wah ices this toxic cake out of Carteret, New Jersey 1973. Focused delivery so single-mindedly crude it creates an inescapable instant brain-worm. Lady "Live Show Tigers" is amongst the most potently life affirming trash rockers you’ll ever hear, one outrageously triumphant but fiercely sloppy anthem about living it up like a star, strutting the stage glammed up New York Dolls drag style but with a Dictators sense of humor. Tasty slightly off kilter guitar leads all through, going serendipitously berserk on the fade. Picture disc single out of L.A. 1980. Fantastic fun rock star rock at a very raw local street level where any time is party time.

Killer Frog "Hard Times" on Masochist Records from Chicago, Illinois 1972 takes less than two minutes, an action packed James Gang style bar band rocker with a bit of punky sneer in the face of misfortune. These guys never even heard of flower power. They are killer frogs. Good Humore "Killer" does kill in stripped down hard rock trio style, Warren, Michigan 1976. No frills guitar, bass and drums groove tight, snaky primordial riff, snarly licks. “She’s a killer of a woman, knows just what she’s doing…” The singer knows she’s a femme-fatale roadhouse predator but she’s so hot the inevitable wreckage seems a bargain. Ride it out like the extended jam on the fade knowing she’ll be back for more! Sarawest "Space Rider" winds up the 22nd Trip lost in a twisted two chord space adventure from the point of view of an alien visiting our planet seeking knowledge but finding out we are stupidly destroying ourselves, so he gotta split sneering back at us like we wasted his time “I got no time for loving… I wanna be a space rider, space rider”. Toronto, Canada 1974, a vibe lurking in some strange but funny void between late ‘60s outsider garage psychedelic rock complete with reverb-y acid guitar leads and late ‘70s retro-futuristic D.I.Y wisecracking from inner space… taking the piss out of outer space!

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

Matias Aguayo drops debut single on Rekids‘El Internet’ is a prelude to the Coméme founder’ upcoming album on the label. Chile’s Matias Aguayo debuts on Rekids with ‘El Internet’, the first single of his upcoming album on Radio Slave’s acclaimed label. Coméme co-founder Aguayo’s ‘El Internet’ is a dancefloor-tested, pumping and uptempo track with personal, intimate vocals phoning in.

“El Internet” tells about walking through the city in hot summer nights looking for the perfect dancefloor and about moments in life where you feel (musical) freedom and change, revolutions in music and dreams in community, about YouTube, MySpace, Fotolog and about people who dance in their houses, yards and on the streets to primitive, raw, and direct music (like the rhythm of the track itself).” - Matias Aguayo

Chilean-born musician and DJ Matias Aguayo has been active for three decades, co-founding the Cómeme label in 2009 and releasing work on the likes of Kompakt, Pschent, Hard Fist, and Permanent Vacation. Beyond music, he has organised underground parties and led social projects, including a theatre production at Le Châtelet in Paris.

Radio Slave’s Rekids was founded in 2006 and has since spawned successful offshoots with the Techno-focused Rekids Special Projects in 2017 and its newest sublabel, REK’D, in 2024. With Matt Edwards as the sole A&R, Rekids has been crucial in developing early artist careers and has become a haven for established acts operating in House and adjacent genres, having recently featured the likes of Hilit Kolet, William Kiss, Tal Fussman, Tiger Stripes, Harry Rimero, The Hacker, Sean Johnston, and many more.

A new duo and record label based in Madrid lands on the underground techno scene, led by Mike Gómez and José Castillo, the latter known for his aliases Milford and UHF, and also the owner of the electro label Gladio Operations.

Diorama is born with the intention of recovering the soul and essence lost in electronic music, which for some time has become practically homogeneous and predictable. With a timeless, fresh, and warm sound, Diorama produce rhythms close to dub and Detroit techno, mainly influenced by Juan Atkins, UR, and Basic Channel, among others.

This EP, titled Pacific Trak, begins with a nod to the old Scottish school, where they revive a forgotten track by British producer Anthony Scott, adding its imposing main chord to a true sea of melodic textures, bathed in exquisite acid. Spanish techno master Tadeo gives us his vision of Pacific Trak, exploring dub territories that remind us of past pieces released under the incomparable Maurizio label.

The B-side opens with Soul Memories, a manifesto of resistance that vibrates with detuned harmonies and raw bass lines, recalling the origins of Detroit’s primitive sound. The package closes with Polymorphic, a progression of relentless aquatic chords, set among careful and precise minimalist rhythms that oscillate between high-dynamics tech and dub.

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!

If you know your death metal history, you are then well aware that 'Hating Life' stands for one of GRAVE earliest and gnarliest demo days classics, later on rerecorded on their immortal debut 'Into The Grave', later on once again used as the title of their fourth full-length, back in 1996. So when a brand new entity proudly waving an old-school death metal flag and bearing the same name seemingly creeps out of nowhere, you're entitled to except the same kind of HM-2 drenched, tribute-in-disguise and downtuned death metal innit? Well, for the time being, the answer would be yes. And no at the same time. Not so hidden behind the whole thing is Santi, guitar player and founding member of ATARAXY, one of Spain most respected and relentless old-school death metal outfit since 2008. "The whole process was very spontaneous, the result of me jamming with a Gibson Les Paul and a HM-2 pedal and ending up soon with great riffs, melodies and plenty of ideas. With ATARAXY having now a very specific personality, it felt great to rediscover primitive death metal roots." Describing HATING LIFE overall sound as "putrid and raw", he doesn't deny the obvious GRAVE nod, especially since the opening track/intro of their debut recording is simply called 'Into The Grave'. "You can call it a tribute or a declaration of intent. The first GRAVE material was and remains a clear exponent, among many others, of the kind of death metal that truly motivated me to compose the tracks for this."