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Teen of Denial: Joe’s Story is a freshly reimagined take on Car Seat Headrest’s beloved breakout, Teens of Denial, now celebrating its 10th anniversary.
On the original album, Toledo often used the name “Joe” as a pseudonym – a sly homage to Daniel Johnston. Revisiting Teens in the run-up to its 10th birthday, he felt called to give Joe a unique backstory and began tweaking the album to tell that tale. The group returned to the studio with Teens producer Steve Fisk to update accordingly – tweaking lyrics, revising arrangements, and recording new songs in the “Denial-style,” including ‘Optimistic Son” and the anthemic ‘Joe Drives Again’. The result retains Teens’ dark edge and youthful cynicism, but allows a bit of hard-won compassion into the mix.

From Will Toledo:
Sometime last year, it was suggested to me that we do something for the ten-year anniversary of ‘Teens of Denial,’ so I started looking back on the album to see what we might do. In spite of some of its songs being a regular part of my life for the past decade, it wasn’t a record I’d thought much about as a whole since it came out. Most of the songs I’d come up with over a two-year period at the end of my college days, when I was struggling a lot with cynicism and misplaced aggression. But by the time the songs were done, I was living in Washington, Car Seat Headrest was a full band with a record label, and in spite of the turmoil of the writing process, the final album was pretty enjoyable for everyone to work on.
This time, looking back at the songs, I started to feel like there was a story being told through the album, though I’d never imagined it as being a narrative work. On ‘Hi, How Are You?’ Daniel Johnston had used the name “Joe” in the titles of a few tracks –“No More Pushing Joe Around,” “Keep Punching Joe” – as a sort of joke, a stand-in for himself. I borrowed the idea, and the name, for titling songs on ‘Denial.’ This time, I started thinking - who is Joe? And how do the songs, in the way they’re sequenced on the album, reflect what he’s going through? As I started asking this question, a story emerged with startling wholeness and clarity, like finding the foundations of an ancient city while digging in my backyard. As I kept digging, certain songs from the original album fell by the wayside, as they seemed misplaced in this new context; others asked for new lyrics, to fully give birth to the story contained in the music.
The resulting work feels more like the album ‘Teens of Denial’ was meant to be. When you’re writing from a dark space, it’s hard to have perspective on where you’re at. This time, I could pull from memories of that darkness, and use the distance and additional perspective of ten years of life to shed a fuller light on the experience. Joe is a character going through some of what I experienced, and some of his own problems. Telling his story, and not just my own impressions of life at the end of the teen years, brought a new level of compassion and wholeness to the album. It gave us the opportunity to write new material in “Denial style”, embracing a snappy and simple(ish) rock aesthetic, and in an additional blessing, we were able to team up once with Steve Fisk, a joy and inspiration to get back into the studio with after ten years. We mixed the material at his house in Tacoma, and were constantly amazed at the lack of divide between past and present, as we’d punch in vocal overdubs ten years later into the same gear, hearing my voice now running alongside a 2015 Will. For someone coming across this album or this band for the first time, this is how they’d hear the record, not as a relic of the past but as a new piece. It was immensely rewarding to experience that on our side.

For anyone familiar with ‘Teens,’ comparisons with the original will be inevitable, but I do hope that as much as possible, people can come to this album on its own terms, approaching it as a teen, hearing the music and story for the first time. I believe music is an ongoing story, and albums don’t always do justice to its dynamic, ongoing nature. What gives it life is the new ears that hear it, and the new hearts that engage with it. I’m so grateful that this is a work that people have kept coming to, and I hope that this presentation does them honor with a fresh offering to the conversation. We’ve known that “it doesn’t have to be like this”; now we can wonder - “what it if were like this?”

On Dummy’s new album, do you love the color of the sky?, the Los Angeles-based 5-piece deliver a breathtaking piece of work that introduces new textures and rhythms to their already varied and refined catalog. For the band’s third album, and first for new label home Polyvinyl, the group split time between self-recording at their home studio as well as Studio 22, linking up with frequent collaborator and engineer Joo-Joo Ashworth (Corridor, Automatic, Spiral XP). The band focused on intentionality and experimentation, exploring downtempo dance beats and electronic music while pushing the guitar as far as they could, using new self-sampling and processing techniques. Percussionist Alex Ewell’s overall sound design and production skills can be heard across the album, with layered drum sounds and rhythmic tremolo techniques shining throughout. Tracks like “Full Spectrum Dominance” and “Alluvial Fan” showcase the band’s tasteful pop sensibilities, while closing track “Heaven’s What You Make Of

It” features perhaps the strongest vocal delivery yet from vocalist/keyboardist
Emma Maatman. Additionally, the dynamic exchange between guitarists Joe Trainor and Nathan O’Dell is absolutely gorgeous, adding a new layer of immersion and directness that is unlike anything the band has done before. The result is Dummy’s most ethereal and sincere record to date, with more feminine and delicate undertones that sit beautifully alongside the gritty and noisy textures the band has become known for. Dummy has been praised in numerous outlets such as Paste, Stereogum, Aquarium Drunkard and Pitchfork, who described their second album, Free Energy, as “the
sound of a band turning all its potential energy into music that’s dazzlingly kinetic and powerful." The band has toured the US, UK, and EU extensively, with festival appearances at Austin Psych Fest, Treefort Music Festival, and others. In addition to larger outlets and festivals, the band’s strong ties to community and DIY ethos are ever-present, oftentimes preferring to play and connect with different local artists on tour, uplifting those around them while shining a light on the history of independent music.

On Dummy’s new album, do you love the color of the sky?, the Los Angeles-based 5-piece deliver a breathtaking piece of work that introduces new textures and rhythms to their already varied and refined catalog. For the band’s third album, and first for new label home Polyvinyl, the group split time between self-recording at their home studio as well as Studio 22, linking up with frequent collaborator and engineer Joo-Joo Ashworth (Corridor, Automatic, Spiral XP). The band focused on intentionality and experimentation, exploring downtempo dance beats and electronic music while pushing the guitar as far as they could, using new self-sampling and processing techniques. Percussionist Alex Ewell’s overall sound design and production skills can be heard across the album, with layered drum sounds and rhythmic tremolo techniques shining throughout. Tracks like “Full Spectrum Dominance” and “Alluvial Fan” showcase the band’s tasteful pop sensibilities, while closing track “Heaven’s What You Make Of

It” features perhaps the strongest vocal delivery yet from vocalist/keyboardist
Emma Maatman. Additionally, the dynamic exchange between guitarists Joe Trainor and Nathan O’Dell is absolutely gorgeous, adding a new layer of immersion and directness that is unlike anything the band has done before. The result is Dummy’s most ethereal and sincere record to date, with more feminine and delicate undertones that sit beautifully alongside the gritty and noisy textures the band has become known for. Dummy has been praised in numerous outlets such as Paste, Stereogum, Aquarium Drunkard and Pitchfork, who described their second album, Free Energy, as “the
sound of a band turning all its potential energy into music that’s dazzlingly kinetic and powerful." The band has toured the US, UK, and EU extensively, with festival appearances at Austin Psych Fest, Treefort Music Festival, and others. In addition to larger outlets and festivals, the band’s strong ties to community and DIY ethos are ever-present, oftentimes preferring to play and connect with different local artists on tour, uplifting those around them while shining a light on the history of independent music.

The Dutch composer and conductor, born in 1993, has assembled a powerful collective with his "hugely inventive and fast- thinking" (UK Jazz News) Brainteaser Orchestra, uniting the vanguard of the current Amsterdam scene - including guitarist Teis Semey , saxophonist Kika Sprangers , drummer Jamie Peet , violinists George Dimitriu and Yanna Pelser , trombonist Nabou Claerhout , clarinetist Federico Calcagno, and bassist Alessandro Fongaro. This lineup has been making international waves, highlighted by invitations to major European festivals and a recent performance alongside Pat Metheny at the North Sea Jazz Festival. Now comes Tonepool Paradox, the orchestra's second album, commissioned to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Amsterdam's legendary BIMHUIS. Wybenga's compositional approach radically breaks with big band conventions. His process mirrors that of a hip- hop producer: he records solo improvisations by his musicians, chops the material into pieces, and uses these fragments as samples to build entirely new tracks. Wybenga layers jazz, electronics, and contemporary classical music without ever sounding academic or overintellectualized. For Tonepool Paradox , he expanded this concept internationally, bringing in guests such as Berlin-based saxophonist Otis Sandjo, Parisian violinist Theo Ceccaldi, singer Lizz Wright , and hip- hop vocalist Pink Oculus . Mixed by Grammy winner Nic Hard (Snarky Puppy), the sound brings together the diverse musical styles of everyone involved, juxtaposing the angular lines of the horns with sweeping, melodic string passages.

Corps Perdu emerges from Lamin Fofana’s ongoing practice of creating immersive and multisensory sound environments, informed and inspired by the historically rich texts of scholars and poets working in the tradition of Black Studies. The words of W.E.B. Du Bois, Sylvia Wynter, Dionne Brand, Fred Moten, Édouard Glissant, Suzanne Césaire and Aimé Césaire are transmuted and circulated as sound, offered to listeners through radio, live events, albums and installations. Fofana honours his sources with an audible historical awareness, yet his sounds always simultaneously open out into the turbulent uncertainties of the present.
The music we hear on the album Corps Perdu was previewed within a series of collective reading and listening sessions carried out in Paris, Barcelona, Tunis and New York City, where voices from the audience read aloud fragments from a body of texts Fofana had selected. The spontaneous unfolding of close reading and listening, mixed live by Fofana in these collective listening experiences, speaks to the open-ended quality of Corps Perdu. The album, now published, is but one iteration of this ongoing inquiry into the relationship between sound and text.
Corps Perdu presents an introspective journey with no return, and as such is full of omens of all kinds. Across ten tracks Lamin Fofana creates a sibling or companion to the transformation he initiated in his previous album Works in Metal, building a narrative that takes us into Krakatoa prior to its eruption, and lets us listen to Césaire’s ‘flying seed dreaming very loudly’. The album’s track titles and narrative arc hum in and out and alongside Césaire’s poetry, mainly Césaire’s 1950 collection Corps Perdu, in which the ten poems are accompanied by engravings by Picasso merging fragments of bodies and plants—a collaboration that emerged from their first encounter two years earlier, at the Communist-led World Congress of Intellectuals for Peace, in Wroclaw, Poland.
The music on Corps Perdu labours intuitive hand-held melodies through dense processing. There are many rhythms throughout, though these never surrender to the density of the dancefloor grooves we’ve heard Fofana craft on previous albums (think of the ‘Obscure Light’ pair from Works in Metal for example). Instead, Fofana gently releases the clenched hands Césaire’s Corps Perdu begins with: ‘Among me, from myself, to myself, outside any constellation, clenched in my hands only, the rare hiccup of an ultimate raving spasm, keep vibrating word’. The album carries through sound the scattering and liquid fragmentation that shape the desperate metamorphosis of a ‘lost body’.

Coflo's editing style fits that ethos particularly well with Edits Collection imprint. His work typically blends deep house, Afro-Latin rhythms, jazz influences, and organic percussion, while preserving the musicality of the original recordings. Across his edit projects, he tends to avoid over-processing and instead focuses on extending grooves, strengthening arrangements, and enhancing dancefloor impact.

Originally released by Umor Rex on cassette in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri’s Sirimiri is now available on vinyl for the first time, newly remastered for this edition. This LP marks the fourth and final installment in a series of four reissues released throughout 2026 to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Umor Rex.

It is a fitting way to close such a special anniversary year. Rafael is not only an artist who has released three albums on Umor Rex, but someone who has been part of the label’s history for more than a decade. His sensibility and way of listening have complemented and nourished the label throughout the years, while his mastering work has helped shape the sound of many of our releases. A close friend, and an essential part of what Umor Rex is today.

Sirimiri roughly translates as “drizzle” in Basque, and we can’t think of a better word to describe its content. The album consists of four long-form pieces, each shaped through different processes and with its own distinct identity, in which Irisarri seeks to blend subjective time with the listening experience through loops, repetition, and subsequence-based sound. Following Eno, nothing happens in quite the same way twice: perception is constantly shifting, and nothing stays in one place for long. The desolation and despair—in a strangely positive way—that we heard in The Shameless Years (Umor Rex, 2017) and later in FAÇADISMS (Black Knoll, 2024) are present here, but the impression is more concrete, unfolding through rawer, less rhetorical landscapes. If The Shameless Years existed somewhere between beauty and active tragedy, this record travels through the beauty and melancholy of an observing eye—a quiet, rebellious insurrection.

Written, produced, mixed & mastered by Rafael Anton Irisarri at Black Knoll Studio, NY. Carl Hultgren: Guitars on “Sonder”, Taylor Jordan: Electric Piano on “Mountain Stream”. Design by Daniel Castrejón.

For over 25 years, David Madson (aka Odd Nosdam) has been stationed away from the light of the mainstream, diligently working the nightshift. Every so often, we awake to find another of his bleary and beautiful missives slung into the waking world – albums whose assemblages of sampled grooves, atmospheres and voices are unified by a hallucinatory sense of melody, like disparate visions strung together through ribbons of sleep-talk. From his earliest days as a member of the seminal group cLOUDDEAD, through his remixes for artists such as Boards of Canada and Black Moth Super Rainbow, Nosdam has been reporting back from his rounds upon the perimeters of culture and consciousness, forging a musical language all of his own.

On Patrol is the second Odd Nosdam LP to be released on The Notwist’s imprint Alien Transistor – following on from the 2019 album Mirrors – and continues a collaborative history that begun with a 2008 remix of The Notwist song, “Sleep”. It’s a love letter to the vinyl format, produced with the aim of optimizing for a single LP. This objective permeated every aspect of the album’s production, from the duration of each side through to the vinyl mastering (Jessica Thompson) and lacquer-cutting (Dubplates & Mastering, Berlin). As we've come to expect, the album is built almost entirely from found sounds, many of which were taken from obscure and second-hand vinyl gathered during Nosdam’s ceaseless crate-digging escapades. Other sources include field recordings made in 2022 at the Catalonia summer home of artist Salvador Dalí, which are baked into the swirling sci-fi glide of “Here to Know (Adéu Mix)”, and a sumptuous clunking bass line courtesy of Organi’s Mike Walti, which runs like an infinite highway through the fuzzy, sunbaked sprawl of “Deepsimple”.

Odd Nosdam’s work has always swept the entire atmospheric spectrum, from rhythmic vigour to levitational beauty. On Patrol is perhaps his finest assimilation of these extremes. “Sgt. Pepsi” is the perfect case in point: a formidable slow groove capsizes into vinyl crackle after a mere minute, before the song resurrects itself through sweeping strings and vocal harmonies, sliding against each other like the overlain romantic denouements to a dozen Hollywood films from the 1940s. Elsewhere, “Get You In (Belong Mix)” drapes shoegaze guitar over a trundling funk backbeat, straddling the physical world and the outer realms, while hushed voices point toward the song's implied themes of cultural cliques, critical consensus and the plight of the eternal outsider: “Sure, I can get you in... these people are my friends, I’m one of them - I belong.”

This is music that both endures and disappears. Odd Nosdam has always wielded a strange relationship with time, scrambling association with any specific era, weaving together numerous tempos simultaneously. There is no master clock. Each track could happily hold up as an infinite loop, yet Nosdam clearly favours the potency of the gone-too-soon, applying the fadeout just as hypnosis starts to crest. Indeed, the songs are both the product of meticulous long-term construction and spontaneity. While the foundations of On Patrol have come together over several years, the recording process involved channeling vibes through a vintage Roland Space Echo and bouncing song fragments back and forth from hard disk to cassette 8-track, gifting a phased permanence to creative decisions made on the fly – a hat-tip to the production processes of Nosdam's longtime hero, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. Like a recurring dream, On Patrol appeals to both the plains of momentary ephemera and the long-established backchannels of the unconscious, equal parts revelation and deja vu.

Text by Jack Chuter
Artwork by Ian Ferguson

Madelyn Byrd returns to Glasgow’s Somewhere Press with a hazed set of weightless soundscapes. »Night Rider« opens in widescreen with the chirp of cicadas dancing across a desert landscape, before Shiroishi’s saxophone eventually cuts through the dark like neon. The story Byrd tells is close to their heart: they spent their teenage years in the Sonoran Desert, the vast subtropical expanse spanning parts of Arizona, California, and Mexico. Its seemingly alien landscape — pocked with giant, tree-like cacti and looming rocky outcrops — is lodged in the cultural memory, a quality Byrd draws on as they slowly reveal their poetic narrative.

The album plays like a road movie of sorts, moving through Byrd’s memories and setting them to very different rhythms. Clattering drums emerge on »Of Nature, Of Bodies, Of Dreams«, while Byrd’s soft tones, processed to sound almost otherworldly, glide gently across the metallic clangs. Each track highlights a form of movement: there is the microscopic, insectoid crunch of »Imprint«, where guitar prangs meet Shiroishi’s spirited runs, while »Into Sonoran Pool« creates motion from the atmosphere itself, recreating the thick desert air with shimmering electrical currents and psychedelic processes.

At this point, the album begins to echo Robert Ashley’s late-period theatrical work: compositions that broke with familiar formats, juxtaposing dialogue with knowingly experimental orchestral flourishes. Byrd strikes a similar note through a fusion of poetry, sound design, choral music, and chiming, listless ambient elements that also recall Harold Budd. Budd grew up in the Mojave Desert, which borders the Sonoran, creating an eerie parallel with the moods he conjured throughout his long career.

Byrd finds a similarly aesthetic link to the West Coast landscape, referencing the history of experimental music while establishing their own voice. As the album rides into the sunset with a roar of engines, they offer a distinct vision of pop: »What Is, What Was« integrates a chugging break and ketamised vocal hook, while the finale, »In Perfume, Remember«, lands as a James K-like heartmelter.

The sun sat high above the desert outside Joshua Tree on October 17, 2024, baking the rocks and shrubbery outside the Farrington Observatory as a small group of invited guests ventured up a steep path towards the telescope. Kyle Simon, the artist and printmaker who founded the Observatory, was standing outside the print studio sat below the towering cylindrical building, greeting friends alongside his wife Sarah and lifelong friend Brian Weitz, the musician widely known as Geologist of Animal Collective. Simon and Weitz had spent the previous day testing and retesting a system that would transform the light of the oncoming full moon captured by the gigantic telescope into a signal that would modulate the control voltage of Weitz’s modular synthesizer. As the sun dipped below the horizon line, the audience gathered on a small wooden patio surrounded by speakers while Weitz readied himself behind the array of patches and knobs. Simon addressed the group, presenting the history of The Sirens, the sonic exploration of the night sky’s mystical and scientific significance about to unfold.

The music conjured under the Hunter’s Moon that night is now documented on this first official release of The Sirens, which was conceived by Simon and Weitz as a recurring performance piece and sound installation. Over a decade ago, Simon began immersing himself in literature on humanity’s sonic relationship to the celestial realm, including Homer’s Odyssey, Plato’s “Spindle of Necessity, ” Kepler’s Harmonices Mundi, and the field of astroseismology. He fitted homemade telescopes with photodiodes and optical sensors to make the images audible, finding latent patterns in the noisy sonic signals he began receiving from the stars. With Weitz, the process expanded as the signal was routed through an analog amplifier and set to modulate the pitch, filter, and other elements of his synthesizer. Together they developed a system of improvisation, with Simon adjusting the telescope to change the intensity of the light based on its relationship with the moon’s position (imagine a theremin player moving their hands in subtle, meaningful motion), and Weitz responding to that input in real time: bending it, amplifying it, or letting it stand on its own. The duo debuted the piece at the Integretron in Joshua Tree in 2018, providing a crucial proof of concept for the performance at Farrington featured here.

The first thing the listener hears on The Sirens is the opening of Farrington Observatory, the cranking of motor and metal. As the lens of the telescope is exposed to the evening air, a wavering drone emerges from the synthesizer, flickering at the margins, the tuning of the oscillators adjusting to the rapidly cooling desert air. The piece progresses and the drone becomes a luminous, spherical constant, bathing the listener in pure tone as Weitz draws out harmonically ambiguous melodies that spiral upwards. Electronics crackle and convulse, coalescing into dense dissonance before widening out into an open octave. Just as the moon orbits the Earth and the stars shift as the planet rotates, so each sonic element appears in flux, interrelationships slowly forming and falling away. Divided into two parts, The Sirens flows as a continuous conversation between the artists and the starlight completing its thousand-year journey across the galaxy.

The Sirens belongs primarily to a lineage beyond music: of sea captains navigating by looking skyward, of astrophysicists studying the formation of the Milky Way, of the modern myths of werewolves, of the stories embedded in constellations. As Simon writes in the album’s extensive liner notes, “These stories and explorations reveal a collective yearning to become conscious of our connection to the universe, our deep-seated desire to understand how we fit into it all.” This music underscores the history of the night sky as the place where poetry and science find common ground, where exploration hinges on the imagination. Driven by curiosity and ingenuity, Weitz and Simon look up and wonder.

For the 10 year anniversary of La Luna, we are excited to share with you this special 007 from Akasha Chronicles, an alias of Silat Beksi.
Akasha Chronicles released his first EP on the Wex sub-label, AHAAD, back in 2018.
After 8 years, he returns with this sentimental mini LP dedicated to his home country, Ukraine.
This release holds a special place in his heart, as he transformed his pain and dealings with the ongoing war into these six tracks which make up History of Great People.
He also wrote a manifesto about the album, his feelings, and the process behind the creation of the album.
Berlin-based artist Memo, who also did the artwork on the first La Luna, returns after 10 years to gift us with another one of his trippy and complex paintings, filled with different worlds the more you observe.
A portion of the sales will be donated to the Ukrainian NGO Repair Together, which focuses on dancing and raving to electronic music while they repair houses destroyed by the war in Ukraine.
Written and produced by: Anatolii Antipin
Artwork by Memo
Mastered & Cut by Analogcut, Berlin
Limited 200 copy press.

Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.

Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.

Greta Van Fleet’s new album, Palace for the People, is available as an exclusive, limited edition first pressing Oracle Variant vinyl, with a smokey quartz marble finish. Includes booklet, double-sided insert, sleeves, gatefold.

Palace for the People is out October 9th, 2026.

Please note: due to the custom dyeing process, each vinyl is unique and will vary slightly in coloration.

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

Moulded By Industry is William D Drake's six album, his first for ten years and a return to the richly layered sonic texture and epic production of his majestic Briny Hooves. He is joined by long time collaborators James Larcombe, Dean Gaisburgh-Watkyn and Steve Jackson, with the addition of a new crew member, singer Treana Morris. Moving on from his nine years of pianistic and compositional duties in Cardiacs, Drake's solo work has been known for its synthesis of Mellotron-driven grandeur with a surreal playfulness.

But the deep heart of Drake's work is in its powerful evocation of the landscape of the countryside and its connection with love, longing and loss. To this end, his own enigmatic lyrics have rubbed shoulders with poetry drawn from across the centuries. From obscure sources such as Samuel Spree to the poetry of Thomas Hardy and Rupert Brooke, his settings make old words shimmer with human emotion. The texture of his music also reflects an inspirational lack of concern for distances of time. The earthy breath of his harmonium is interwoven with tones teased from archaic instruments by James Larcombe – hurdy-gurdy, dulcitone and melodeon.

But Drake's sound-world is no museum. Here, ancient words and the timbres of ancient instruments become one with the rush of a moment's emotion. Moulded By Industry brings this approach a new sonic depth, intoxicatingly shaded by Treana's lush vocal harmonies and underpinned by Steve's rhythm. Dean's evocative guitar textures give an oceanic sense, tinged with Americana, recalling his work with Drake in their alt country band Nervous. These many layers of sound are drawn together into vivid soundscapes by the painterly mixing of producer Ott. Renowned for his work in electronica and dub, Ott's two decades of experience working with artists such as Sinéad O'Connor, the Orb and Brian Eno bring an organic touch here, more akin to the elemental forces of land and sky than grid electricity. More than any of Drake's previous albums, Moulded By Industry reignites the emotional urgency of old texts. The gorgeous single The Flickering Shade, haunted by glimmers of lost possibilities, is set from words by Thomas Ashe. Turtledove's heady evocation of the blissful madness of love sets the words of an anonymous 17th century ballad. above all, the album is a testament to Drake's love of John Clare, 'The Northamptonshire Peasant Poet'. Clare wrote as the centuries old process of enclosure, in which wild and common land was appropriated commercially, was accelerating.

His works, rather than representing simple sentimentality, are passionate love poems to the landscape and cries from a soul reeling from the creeping unfamiliarity devouring it. This sense of the tension between passion and ill-ease has its most potent expression in Green Shadows. The brooding, slow-tempo energy of Steve's drums drive a horizon-wide lament, alternately lulled by Treana's vocal textures and made restless by James' plaintive hurdy-gurdy and the emotive pull of Dean's slide guitar. The present moment is also a time of enclosure, both metaphorically, as our lives, memories and emotions are drawn into the commercial space of social media, and literally as land and water are swallowed by vast data centre developments. Moulded By Industry celebrates a regained sense of being in the moment in the landscape, in life and in love. The album closes with the utterly delightful single Love In The Universe. The kind of song that could make a cynic use the word 'joyous' without irony, this Harry Nilsson-esque romp reassures us, with a wink, that 'in an infinite universe everything has its place ... even the human race'.

Edge Conditions is a fresh look at the beat-forward electronic music of Jeremiah Chiu. In Electric Time, his 2023 first-thought-best-thought album recorded at theVintage Synth Museum in LA, offered a glimpse a solo process and sound, fast becoming a fan favorite. In many ways this new work is a total reset. Following two ambient-leaning duo albums with Marta Sofia Honer and a pair of improvisatory trance-jazz LPs with LA quintet SML, Edge Conditions settles Chiu into a world of layered, alternately dance-able or chillout-able, rhythm excursions a la classic Four Tet or Aphex Twin.

Edge Conditions is a fresh look at the beat-forward electronic music of Jeremiah Chiu. In Electric Time, his 2023 first-thought-best-thought album recorded at theVintage Synth Museum in LA, offered a glimpse a solo process and sound, fast becoming a fan favorite. In many ways this new work is a total reset. Following two ambient-leaning duo albums with Marta Sofia Honer and a pair of improvisatory trance-jazz LPs with LA quintet SML, Edge Conditions settles Chiu into a world of layered, alternately dance-able or chillout-able, rhythm excursions a la classic Four Tet or Aphex Twin.

OTHELLO is the debut album by pianist and composer Orson Claeys. Bringing together influences from jazz, hip-hop, urban culture, and everyday life, the record offers the clearest portrait yet of an artist shaped as much by the worlds around him as by music itself.

The title refers to Claeys' full name, Orson Dwight Othello Claeys, and reflects the album's central concern:identity. Throughout the record, personal experiences, cultural influences, and artistic inspirations converge into a body of work that seeks to understand how an artist is formed, both within and beyond music. Musically, OTHELLO builds on jazz, strongly intertwined with hip-hop, contemporary culture, and ideas beyond traditional musical frameworks. For Claeys, music is not a fixed genre, but an open and evolving form of expression.

This broad perspective is evident in the album's carefully chosen collaborations. A track like "WHAT A NIGHT" first took shape during a studio session with indie-soul singer Sevens, whose harmonic ideas laid the foundation for the track. As the composition evolved, Claeys felt it called for a stronger hip-hop voice. Through a recommendation from Mixmonster Menno of STUFF., he was introduced to L.A. rapper IAMOMNI, whose contribution brought exactly the energy and perspective the track needed. The result unfolds like a late-night journey through Los Angeles, with IAMOMNI's contribution adding a sense of movement, character, and place.

Elsewhere on the album, "SPIRAL", featuring Belgo-Brazilian vocalist Helena Casella, grew out of a long-standing mutual admiration. Conceived as a meeting point between R&B and jazz, the composition balances the groove and emotional depth of the former with the improvisational spirit and spontaneity of the latter. The collaboration developed naturally from the outset, with Casella instinctively understanding the atmosphere Claeys envisioned while enriching the music with her own warmth and nuance.

A long-held ambition materializes on "SHADOWBOXING", where Claeys is joined by drummer, producer, and one of the key figures in contemporary Belgian jazz, Lander Gyselinck. Gyselinck's work, particularly his collaboration with Zwangere Guy on Pourriture Noble, was instrumental in showing Claeys how the language of hip-hop could coexist naturally with jazz, an idea that runs through OTHELLO. Drawing inspiration from boxing, the track is a musical equivalent of a fighter's walk towards the ring: focused, intense, and driven by the sense of anticipation that precedes stepping into the fight.

After this heightened intensity, the album gradually moves toward its closing statement. OUTRO / HANIN", featuring oud player Akram Ben Romdhane, a longtime collaborator whose playing forms a natural bridge between Claeys' previous work and the broader musical landscape explored across the album. The title references the Tunisian Arabic word hanin, meaning "nostalgia", a fitting conclusion to a work deeply concerned with memory, identity, and personal history.

Beyond music itself, OTHELLO is informed by a wider cultural landscape. Urban culture, with its visual language, creative independence, and sense of community, forms an important backdrop to the record. Sport also plays a significant role, particularly boxing and basketball, whose emphasis on discipline, focus, and resilience mirrors Claeys' own creative process. Rather than being treated as separate influences, these worlds coexist without hierarchy, reflecting an artistic vision that resists rigid boundaries and allows different disciplines, communities, and experiences to inform one another.

John Prine's Found Dogs is a newly curated archival release celebrating the 30th anniversary of Lost Dogs & Mixed Blessings. Drawn from the original recording sessions and demos from the era, Found Dogs collects alternate versions, acoustic performances, and five previously unreleased tracks, offering a rare look into Prine's songwriting and studio process during a pivotal period of his career.Highlights include alternate takes of "Ain't Hurtin' Nobody" and "Quit Hollerin' At Me," a solo acoustic version of "Humidity Built the Snowman," demos such as "Lake Marie," and unreleased recordings including "Hey Ah Nothin'," "World Without Love," and "Dogs in Burlington." All tracks have been newly remastered for vinyl.

marta is a Paris-based live electronic duo pushing the boundaries of techno through a fully performed live setup combining processed violin, acoustic and electronic drums. Blending the intensity of club music with the spontaneity of live performance, the duo has developed a distinctive, physical sound that stands apart in today's electronic landscape. Following the acclaimed singles LINE and RAW, their EP PUSH confirms their artistic vision while supporting a rapidly growing international trajectory, with more than 120 shows scheduled through the end of 2026, strong editorial support and an expanding global audience.

With the amps still warm from 2024's coruscating comeback Life Knife Death, veteran Swedish punk-metal masters Wolfbrigade strike back like a wounded cobra with their loudest, fullest, thickest-sounding record yet. And that's no happy accident. On their twelfth LP (the first three released under the Wolfpack monicker, 1996–99), the quintet concertedly resolved to shake up their habitual processes and interrogate their customary methodology. "As the songs started to fall into place, we decided to do something we hadn't done in many years," explains the band. "For the last decade we've recorded, produced and mixed our albums ourselves. This time we wanted to work with someone from outside the band whose work we respect and who we felt would understand what Wolfbrigade is about."

With the amps still warm from 2024's coruscating comeback Life Knife Death, veteran Swedish punk-metal masters Wolfbrigade strike back like a wounded cobra with their loudest, fullest, thickest-sounding record yet. And that's no happy accident. On their twelfth LP (the first three released under the Wolfpack monicker, 1996–99), the quintet concertedly resolved to shake up their habitual processes and interrogate their customary methodology. "As the songs started to fall into place, we decided to do something we hadn't done in many years," explains the band. "For the last decade we've recorded, produced and mixed our albums ourselves. This time we wanted to work with someone from outside the band whose work we respect and who we felt would understand what Wolfbrigade is about."

The pairing of two fiddles is a familiar sound in many folk traditions, but it has been heard less frequently in English traditional music. Morning of May, a new album from Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, sets out to discover what happens when two fiddlers meet with this repertoire: taking turns carrying the melody, as the other takes a "seconding" role, weaving harmony and rhythm around the tune, elevating it and subtly reshaping the ground beneath it. Sweeney and Smith immersed themselves in a wide range of manuscripts and tune collections, delving into some of the more obscure sources. Within these archives, they found tunes that felt unexplored and rich with possibility. Some tunes arrived as complete hidden gems. Others required some restoration, their rough edges gently smoothed through the process of playing. Others were tiny fragments, inspiring almost total reimaginings. Alongside these old tunes sit a few original compositions by Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, written in the same spirit of curiosity and continuity that informs their approach to archive material.

The pairing of two fiddles is a familiar sound in many folk traditions, but it has been heard less frequently in English traditional music. Morning of May, a new album from Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, sets out to discover what happens when two fiddlers meet with this repertoire: taking turns carrying the melody, as the other takes a "seconding" role, weaving harmony and rhythm around the tune, elevating it and subtly reshaping the ground beneath it. Sweeney and Smith immersed themselves in a wide range of manuscripts and tune collections, delving into some of the more obscure sources. Within these archives, they found tunes that felt unexplored and rich with possibility. Some tunes arrived as complete hidden gems. Others required some restoration, their rough edges gently smoothed through the process of playing. Others were tiny fragments, inspiring almost total reimaginings. Alongside these old tunes sit a few original compositions by Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, written in the same spirit of curiosity and continuity that informs their approach to archive material.

Almost Starlight is the extraordinary new album by Jem Finer (hurdy-gurdy) and John Matthias (violin). Produced by Jay Auborn and recorded in a Medieval Church, deep in the Devon countryside, in the Summer of 2025, the music is suffused with light, heat and the natural acoustics of the space.

The album defies categorisation; forced to pigeon hole it the nearest approximation would be ‘modern-classical’ but this ignores its myriad influences and explorations which encompass inspiration from Arvo Pärt through Terry Riley to Can via Delius, Alice Coltrane and a subtle reimagining of electronic music played purely with acoustic instruments, bending and shaping their possibilities in surprising and unexpected directions.

Jay Auborn plays cello on a number of the compositions and his production opens up and expands the music through a skilled and imaginative use of space, paying homage to the atmosphere of the church; ‘the sound evolved… chasing the imagined acoustics of that church in my mind; a place for worshipping light with sound.’

Almost Starlight will be released on the 4th September by Touch, available as CD, vinyl, cassette and on streaming platforms.

BIOS OF THE ARTISTS

Jem Finer

Since studying computer science in the 1970s, Jem Finer has worked in various fields, including photography, film, experimental and popular music, sound recording, sculpture and installation.

Much of his work relates to systems, extended processes and extremes of scale and includes Longplayer, a musical composition repeating once every 1000 years, and the Gurdy and Hurdy stones, ancient rocks set upright in fields in East Sussex and Gloucestershire with Jimmy Cauty. Their work together includes a band, The Standing Stones, whose most recent release is Twa Sisters, featuring Iona Zajac and Daragh Lynch.

He was a founder member of The Pogues, with whom he has played, written and recorded since 1981.

Recent music revolves around a fascination with the hurdy-gurdy and includes hrdy-grdy, a cassette released by Benedict Drew’s Thanet Tape Centre. His latest collaboration, with John Matthias, Almost Starlight, will be released by Touch in September 2026.

John Matthias

Since studying Theoretical Physics in the late 1980s and 1990s, John has created music and sound in many forms, including for installation, popular music, music for film, for dance and orchestra.

Much of John’s work plays with the physics of complex systems but he is also greatly influenced by stories and song. John has collaborated with Matthew Herbert, Stanley Donwood, Jay Auborn, Radiohead, Thom Yorke, Nick Ryan and many others to create music with a variety of textures and sonorities. He is particularly interested in simplicity and form and how context informs the way music sounds.

His latest collaboration, with Jem Finer, Almost Starlight, will be released by Touch in September 2026.

EM Records is proud to release Three Movements from “Some Kind of Seasoning” by the eminent Warren Burt: composer (and performer, writer, instrument builder, educator) of genius. Burt was born in 1949 in the USA, and moved to Australia in 1975. Throughout his long and inspired career, his expansive aesthetic has eagerly embraced microtonality, improvisation and technology, fusing these elements in often humorous and/or irreverent compositions based on live interaction with intelligent or semi-intelligent machine processes. He sets up machine-generated musical environments and then “wanders through” their rules and behaviors, exploring the resulting possibilities in a manner which never results in tech-driven alienation or alienating randomness; Burt’s keen and personable musical intelligence is always evident. This release features music from the final sections of a near-six-hour epic cycle of interactive computer and synthesizer pieces from 1990-91, investigating the magical intermediate space between the human and the mechanical. Dedicated to Kenneth Gaburo, the music draws on wide-ranging inspirations including Sun Ra and Elliott Carter, Quincy Jones’ “Setembro” and Charles Ives, Portsmouth Sinfonia and ancient Greek modes. With good-natured humor, an openness to the excellence of “mistakes” and a wide range of timbres, the music includes progressions of "traditionally musical" pitches, delicate textures of sustained electronic tones, raucous and noisy combinations of sound. Available on 12” LP, CD and DL, with liner notes by the composer.



c 03: A Post-Modern Object-Oriented Chaotic Cellular Microtonal Teledildonic Virtual Simulacra! (Buzzwords (that might have gotten you tenure) for sampled orchestra) 1991 for computer-controlled synthesizer



[c] 03: A Post-Modern Object-Oriented Chaotic Cellular Microtonal Teledildonic Virtual Simulacra! (Buzzwords (that might have gotten you tenure) for sampled orchestra) [1991] for computer-controlled synthesizer



[c] 03: A Post-Modern Object-Oriented Chaotic Cellular Microtonal Teledildonic Virtual Simulacra! (Buzzwords (that might have gotten you tenure) for sampled orchestra) [1991] for computer-controlled synthesizer

On her first Harmony Index album, multi-instrumentalist and producer Nico Leibman spotlights the feelings that are most difficult to express, bringing out the friction between her dreamy hooks and harsher sonics. Written almost like a DJ set, the album shifts intentionally between piano-led trip-hop, lounge, dream pop, 2-step and breakbeat house, not languishing in nostalgia but defining a language that's rooted in desire, surrender and forward motion.

Until now, Leibman has been best known as a touring musician, working alongside artists like Jessica Pratt and Ana Roxanne, while slowly putting together new solo material in-between frequent tours. The album was written in bursts over the course of five long years and provided Leibman with a much-needed outlet - a chance for her to lock into her personal musical preoccupations, like Janet Jackson's 'The Velvet Rope', Everything but the Girl's 'Walking Wounded' and Prefab Sprout's 'Jordan: The Comeback'.

It's this era of pop - when nascent technology collided at force with skillful, soulful songwriting - that provides the album's backbone, fleshed out by Leibman's potent meditations on a spectrum of experiences in Los Angeles. And as the record was evolving, Leibman let long night drives crack her creative world open. Embracing the city's notoriously cinematic romantic side, she used the car as a "little chamber of limerence," in her own words, enabling her fantasies and acting as a test system for each song. "If it wasn't hitting in the car," she says. "It wasn't going to be on the record, period."

This sense of motion is evident almost immediately on 'Recognize', when Leibman's breathy words are carried into the night by choppy, uptempo breaks and resonant pads. So even when she simply coos over chugging guitars and bass on the first half of 'Enough', the drop into a low-slung breakbeat is implied. "Another digression, a break in this tension," she sings. "Was I foolish to believe that this was never your intention?" Leibman's tales of disillusionment are imbued with power, buoyed by her pitch-perfect production, with additional help from co-producer Cesar Maria.

On 'Don't Pretend', she sings softly and soulfully over decelerated Timbaland-inspired beats and a dubwise bassline, aided by additional production from Purelink. And 'If' marks the point where she lets go, infusing her euphoria with melancholy as her voice soars alongside the album's most infectious piano riff. Fittingly, the album concludes with 'Trust', a song about surrendering to the possibilities of love that works as a potent metaphor for the album's evolution. Over the course of five years, Leibman learned to let people in, finally trusting the process. "It's also a fantasy of what it would feel like to finally be in love again," she laughs, accepting that it's still just a fantasy. But it's this hope in unfulfilled longing that gives the album its unique character, defining a bold, unguarded voice in LA's experimental pop landscape.

This release closes the current run of much‑needed raids on the Digi Dub archives. Label boss Berwick emerged from the DIY ferment of Camberwell's squat era , blending reggae and rave influences into a stream of boundary‑pushing music and events under a tangle of ever‑shifting aliases. Nodding to the Far East stylings of Augustus Pablo, South‑Eastern Style finds Berwick, working under his Mudskipper alias, refracting Pablo’s melodic meditations through a mutoid bass filter, delivering six cuts of idiosyncratic, genre- agnostic electronics.

Some of Berwick’s Mudskipper material was partially exhumed for digital release in 2021, but the alias was only one of several he deployed during Digi Dub’s most fertile years and during the 90s Mudskipper material was released sparingly. It feels fitting, then, that this project finally gets its due in the form of a full vinyl release.

Beware Dub is the only track here to have seen daylight before, with a version originally appearing on the 1996 four‑track EP 4 Golems. It makes a fine opener: an agile bassline rolling through tunnels of processed skank, rocking in a haze of centrifugal breakbeat. Ambrosial Dub mounts an imperious, guitar‑laced groove onto a solid steppers march, while Pillars Dub drives another vigorous, sub‑heavy bassline forward in the mix alongside a mechanised rhythm track, shards of noirish piano and bursts of twinkling synth.

The second side opens with the cosmic skank of Stand It Dub, followed by the mutated one‑drop drift of Where There’s Dub, suspended in a canopy of gentle keys. Wasted Dub closes the EP in fine style, Berwick applying widescreen dubwise pressure: a robust low end topped with the distinctive twin twangs of jaw harp and slide guitar, coming on like Jah Shaka meeting Ry Cooder.

Whisper Doll's new music comes from a time in frontwoman Fiona Tagami's life when she was actively trying to cultivate whimsy, a sense of possibility. "It's about this switch of trying to be in the world as a hopeful person," she says. The songs' dream-pop sound, with their woozy guitars and ethereal vocal melodies, evokes that feeling. Some moments feel weightless and joyous, others dense with mystery. Whisper Doll began as a solo project when Fiona was in high school in Atlanta, writing in her bedroom while she fell in love with bands like The Sundays, Mazzy Star, and The Cranberries. During the process of making her debut album, 2024's Perfume Garden, she moved to New York and became quickly wrapped up in the city's indie scene. While playing in various other bands, she met her future Whisper Doll bandmates: drummer Shawn Majeed, guitarist sophomore album Lucky Clover is Whisper Doll's first full-band record, and the first one made in full in NYC, representing a newfound sense of clarity for Fiona as well as a newly collaborative process. With their meticulously crafted sound and deeply thoughtful songwriting, Whisper Doll place us in a world that's unmistakably their own.

Living Weapon returns with Death In The Family, a full-length that confronts mortality, meaninglessness, and the aftermath of existence. The release broken down over 23 minutes toward an unresolved end — life examined at its start and its finish, with the universe indifferent to either. Recorded, produced, and engineered by Jeremy Martin over fall 2025 into spring 2026 — the band's first time tracking a full album internally. Mixing handled by Taylor Young of The Pit Recording Studio and Mastering by Nick Townsend. The album is introduced with "The Leaving Process” laying out the album's core idea: life as connection, not permanence — matter created and destroyed, briefly aware of itself in between.

Garefowl is a project connected to the archipelago of St Kilda, Scotland. Ewan Macdonald and his father Murdo, relatives of one of the men who killed the last Great Auk (Garefowl), conceived the project to reflect on and mark this family history. Garefowl is an international collective of musicians combining strings and electronics: Nathan Bontrager (viola da gamba/harmonium/banjo), Stuart Graham (bouzouki/harmonica/harmonium), Chris Jones (concertina/mandolin), Ewan Macdonald (fiddle/smallpipe drone), Richard O’Flynn (island sounds/percussion/XRD drones), Jess Whelligan (cello).

Things That Vanish was recorded on Hirta, the main island of St Kilda, at night. The soundscapes of Hirta breathe across the record: a quiet rolling swell of winds, waves, birds, and the otherworldly thrum of the snipe. Taking influence from the traditional folk music of St Kilda, the tunes on the record are inspired by the threatened seabirds of the islands. The band were intrigued by the folk stories around these birds, and how they often are depicted to imbue a primal, dark and haunting nature. In such tales, the birds retain a quality akin to a sea monster: preying upon calves and sheep, and believed to be the pelagic souls of drowned sailors or the cursed spirits of cruel captains.

No synthesizers were used on the recording. Instead, the production draws entirely on sampled and processed field and hydrophone recordings collected on St Kilda. Additionally, drones were created through a process pioneered by Richard O’Flynn and Joe Gardner. Rock or bone samples are analysed using X-ray diffraction (XRD), which creates a spectrum with peaks corresponding to the sample’s chemical composition; this spectrum can then be mapped to sine waves, forming a drone.

»Baby Ghost« is the debut album by double bassist and vocalist Jordan Sand. Released through Hallow Ground, it blurs the lines between different genres and modes of expressions, improvisation and composition and showcases the unique playing style the composer has developed. Sand blends her voice with the bowed harmonics and subharmonics of her double bass. At once conceptually rigorous and musically open-ended, Sand’s wordless meditations on death and what comes after are both visceral and explorative.

Sand is a boundary-crossing instrumentalist, performer, and session musician who has worked in folk, free jazz, pop, classical and new as well as experimental music. In 2020, she took a hiatus. When she picked up the bass again, she began stripping down the relationship to her instrument to its core elements, searching for a way to melt the sounds of bow and voice together. This resulted in the appearance of ghost notes, tones emerging from the addition or subtraction of two frequencies, and harmonics that she adds with her falsetto.

On »Baby Ghost,« Sand utilises this acoustic sound and the spontaneous precision of her improvisational practice for pieces that deal with the subject of dying. They move from more polyphonic improvisations toward abstraction, touching upon harsh noise and minimalistic bow-chants before returning briefly to a melodic soliloquy, and finally landing on an extended subharmonic drone. This progression reflects the journey of the spirit after death; the experience of visions, memories, ecstasies and terrors before the dissolution of the self.

Sand performs this process physically, blending her voice with her instrument to explore how the senses might dissolve and merge when they enter a state between life and beyond-or-between-life. Born out of the moment and dedicated to a lost friend, »Baby Ghost« is quite literally an otherworldly achievement.

2026 Repress

'Quiet Pieces' initiates Abul Mogard’s personal imprint Soft Echoes with a definitive self-portrait of calm, contemplative, and discreet inner landscapes made audible. It is the first solo album on vinyl in four years. RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker.

While sifting through archived material left idle from earlier projects, a chance encounter with a late uncle’s trove of beloved 78rpm classical and opera records prompted the reworking and completion of what would eventually become the album. Spinning dusty records at 33 and 45rpm, Abul Mogard recombined their enduring spectres with unfinished sketches from his archive. The resulting soundscape blurs distinctions between his memories and those of another, exquisitely short-circuiting the senses with its waking, dream-like lucidity.

This was a process I hadn’t explored in my earlier works. I began sampling brief moments from these records, altering them with studio effects and playing them at slower speeds. In many cases, I wasn’t entirely sure how the original music sounded. These fragments, once further processed, became a source of inspiration for my new compositions. Over time, I realised that the old pieces from the archive and the new material derived from the samples naturally complemented each other.”

The resulting pieces hover over a threshold, a liminal space that harmonises the old and older material. Voluminous waves of quiet and loud undulate between consonance and dissonance, conjuring imagery of a decaying grandeur that humanity’s decadence has surrendered to the elements. Abul Mogard’s seemingly abandoned yet vast landscapes are nevertheless intimate with timbral frissons of red-lined distortion. Elusive, yet as tangible as sea spray or smog, they affect the olfactory senses with a rarified, synesthetic quality that modestly engages one’s emotional register – a hypnotic, distinguishing feature long hailed as one of the hallmarks of his work. A fidelity to memory and dream recall is sensitively probed in the journey from the stately symphonic stasis of 'Following a dream' to the almost industrial, untethered brutality evoked by a looming silhouette that’s never fully visible in 'Constantly slipping away', culminating in the foreboding coda of 'Like a bird'. Those pieces appear to shield the album’s sentimental core, where the tempestuous play of light and shadow of 'In a studded procession' escalates to breathtaking, panoramic climax, while 'Through whispers' evokes an out-of-body-like experience encountered with visceral poignancy.

Looking back, Mogard notes an unexpected influence: “I realise being inspired by Phill Niblock, whose work I had barely known at the time but explored after his passing in 2024. His album 'Boston Tenor Index' changed the way I approached dissonance. It encouraged me to push my sound further, to the edge of a space where I began to feel uncomfortable.”

The album artwork, created by longtime collaborator Marja de Sanctis, features a photograph taken at the Temple of Jupiter Anxur, an archaeological site overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Captured with an iPhone, the image traces the residual presence of construction techniques and architectural forms of the Romans, where material history is transcribed through contemporary tools. The convergence of ancient and modern technology aims to reverberate the site’s lasting spiritual presence – an echo persisting in what is now perceived as a quiet, emptied space. The spiral gestures towards infinity and light. Past and present dissolve into one another, reflecting 'Quiet Pieces' meditation on sound, memory, and time.

RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker

Initially forming under the moniker of Black Death back in 1986, the star of Darkthrone has ascended with reverence & a degree of infamy over the course of four decades, to become one of the most notable metal bands to have emerged from Norway. Highly inspirational to a whole generation of bands, & also uncompromisingly steadfast throughout their now extensive catalogue, the long-standing duo of Fenriz & Nocturno Culto have remained dedicated to the art of the riff & forging their own path, relentlessly steering the band against the tide of trend. From the death/ doom technicality of 1991's debut masterpiece 'Soulside Journey', through the spearheading of the notorious "second wave of black metal" period of the earlier 1990s, & the integration of punk & heavy doom elements along with way, the Nordic titans have undoubtedly carved an exquisite & eclectic legacy. After a sequence of albums under the Moonfog label throughout the mid-latter 90's & into the new millennium, Darkthrone made the leap back to their original home at Peaceville, for a spectacular return in the shape of 'The Cult Is Alive', released in 2006. With the band's own newly-established Necrohell 2 studio in operation, this allowed the duo to make everything purely on their own terms & in their own time. Creative boundaries were also further removed in order to embrace some of the punk influences which had to date been more subdued, & in the process, created the beginnings of a new era for the band, first revealed in the form of lead track 'Too Old, Too Cold'.

The original intention of the Builders and the Butchers was to make funeral music, but on the way to the cemetery something changed. An album, like any piece of art, is an artifact of a time. In a world where the process of listening to and obtaining music has never been cheaper or easier, vinyl is a last hold out. You can tell when you\'re holding the weight of wax in your hand, that you\'re connected to what you are doing. The first Builders and Butchers record is also an artifact of a time. Recorded in the living room of a house on SE Division St. in Portland, Oregon in 2007. It was recorded with no expectation, just wanting to document the songs folks had been gathering to sing along to since our first shows in the fall of 2005. The songs having been played only on the street up to that time. At those shows anyone who showed up was handed an instrument and quickly made part of the band. During the recording we attempted to bring that organic singalong rowdiness of the live show into the recording. We brought in about 20 close friends for a Sunday morning booze soaked choir session. We made sure that every instrument of the recording was made of wood and powered by a musician, there are no electric instruments and hardly any effects on this record.

Fohn conjures a dreamlike landscape of introspective beauty, loneliness and transience from analogue tape and field recordings on new album, Porcelain.

A late summer evening in southern France. The dry mistral wind billows the washing that hangs outside the windows on narrow streets, bringing with it the first whispers of autumn. In the distance children are playing in the square, their shouts caught in the dust whipped up by their feet. A bell tolls, the light dies, and a rich, compelling solitude descends.

Violinist and multi-instrumentalist Fohn, aka Tom Connolly, describes the act of making music as “building fictional environments that become places of solace,” and a process of translation and projection that bridges his internal and external worlds.

While musicians like John Also Bennett, Oren Ambarchi and Connolly’s own group Quade drift behind his sound, Porcelain draws its temperamental inspiration from films like Call Me My Your Name and Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Mirror, as well as the sculptures of Anthony Gormley, whose solitary figures stand isolated in expanses of water along the UK coastline.

How does Connolly describe the atmosphere he wants the music to evoke? “It's the feeling of the inevitability of something having to pass,” he answers. “It's compelling because it's fundamentally unattainable. You're searching and grasping for something that you can never fully hold.”

A moving, intimate and deeply personal album, Porcelain shimmers in the illusive light of melancholy. For Connolly it provided the release of catharsis, but it’s a feeling that will mean something different to everyone who listens.

The story of each re-release begins with the original. In the late 90s, Uwe Zahn (Arovane), along with Robert Henke (Monolake) and Stefan Betke (Pole), began releasing music on Torsten Pröfrock’s (Dynamo) newly launched DIN label. This was a very inconspicuous undertaking, but fans of the flourishing IDM, glitch, and constantly evolving abstract techno genres quickly picked up on the quality of sound coming out of Germany. After a few successful EPs, Zahn began working on his debut full-length, Atol Scrap. The release was a success, at least in the underground circles, where followers of the melodic harmonies, stuttering off-beat rhythms, and, most importantly, advanced sound design feverishly consumed the imprint’s output. There was only one thing missing – the album was never pressed on vinyl, and for decades remained in the digital domain. The fans, of course, inquired. There were multiple offers on the table, but Zahn retained control until he was assured that it was properly attained. “I thought of taking everything into my own hands and releasing the record myself,” says Zahn, “but at the end of last year, Matthias from Keplar asked me to re-release Atol Scrap on vinyl.” The label and its owner revolve in the Morr Music universe, and so it made sense for Zahn to trust the platform to treat the record right.

Listening to Atol Scrap over twenty years later it is inane not to admit how well it has held up. Where other genres clearly aged, becoming stale, bland, and dull, the music on eleven tasty tracks still keeps the neurons tickled with each note. More than an echo of the past, the bottled sound truly has matured. Many of the newly evolving techniques are recognizable on the album. “I created the digital artifacts with a digital multi-track recorder, the Fostex D80,” recalls Zahn. “The thing had a scrub wheel with which I could achieve wonderful glitch effects by winding through the audio data. I have sampled and further processed these artifacts.” And this approach is still embedded in Zahn’s sound design. “I still use my 24-track analog desk from Tascam to mix my audio. I love to use hardware synths and samplers. I’ve definitely built upon my studio experience in the 90s.” From this debut to the most recent output, Arovane’s sound has evolved to become more intricate, detailed, and pronounced. “My music has become much quieter and much slower. But that’s probably also due to the noise in the world.” And just as Atol Scrap reminds Zahn of the past, retaining charm preserved in a container traveling through time, it also jitters memories of long ago, when we were twenty years younger, less experienced, and bold. For me, among the many records of the time, this album held a special place in life, my heart, and many CD boxes moved across the world. And now I’m only happy to restock the vinyl space, where Atol Scrap belongs among the beloved records. Welcome home. - Mike Lazarev

Remastered and cut to vinyl by Kassian Troyer @ D&M. Cover art by Jim Kühnel based on a photograph by Uwe Zahn.