quête:process

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

Transparent Blue Vinyl. After years of preparation, Marcus Drake emerges from the basement networks of the resistance underground to claim the first save point along his quest ahead. Welcome to Save Point 1, a universe where popular forms of the past collide at warp speed with Marcus's mutant inspirations to produce sounds and genres hitherto unknown. Save Point 1 is a visionary and singular Debut work of Avant Rock & Pop Alchemy, blown apart and reassembled under the laws of Quantum Musical Mechanics. Written, Produced & Performed by Marcus Drake, the album eludes classification, but sounds like a sci-fi fusion of musical DNA from Nine Inch Nails, Prefab Sprout, Nobuo Uematsu (the Final Fantasy video game composer), Animal Collective, Prince, Mr. Bungle, Liars, The Mars Volta, and Lil Ugly Mane. The album marks the first release under Drake's own name, and the latest since his 2017 release as Anthony Fremont's Garden Solutions_his idiosyncratic side-project with Water From Your Eyes' Nate Amos, Options' Seth Engel, and NNAMDI. He has also since scored for film and video, including the Adult Swim short Thoron the Conqueror. Save Point 1 isn't just a new beginning, but a reintroduction to Marcus Drake the artist and composer. Drake experimented with new techniques and approaches for many years while recording Save Point 1, a process that transformed his sound, voice, and artistic identity. The resulting oeuvre is giddy and dreamy, an Olympic-height diving board from which to descend through indie rock and videogame soundtracks, thrilling math-rock riffs that turn experimental, and synths that glow in rainbow hues. Just turn to the glitchpop of "Heaven's in the Rot" or the slow-motion acoustic glitter that is "Dragon It Out" to hear it in motion. And note the two-part "Haunted" suite that funnels his unpredictable experimentation into darker, weirder directions.

"Since 2017, Thirdface has intrigued their audiences and peers alike with their raw, intense technicality. The Nashville quartet consisting of drummer Shibby Poole, guitarist David Reichley, bassist Maddy Madeira, and vocalist Kathryn Edwards bring an atypically musical approach to hardcore with release after invigorating release. Thirdface takes the most harrowing elements of punk, grindcore, and death metal and fuses them into a ferocious sound that is quite considerably their own. From their inception, Thirdface has developed consistently, culminating in their new release Ministerial Cafeteria, due through stalwart unconventional rock label Exploding in Sound Records.

Thirdface is decidedly remarkable in their dedication to Nashville DIY. Edwards runs the beloved all ages venue Drkmttr; Poole is a go-to recording engineer for local bands; and all four members have played in various other projects over the years. Within the constellation of Nashville’s DIY scene, Poole, Reichley, and Madeira were already well acquainted with each other’s playing styles through a previous band. Starting as a side project in 2017, the three shifted gears and began leaning toward a more intense sound requiring a vocal presence unburdened by an instrument. Since then, the release of 2021’s self-recorded Do It With A Smile led Thirdface to regional tours with the likes of Touché Amoré and City of Caterpillar.

On Ministerial Cafeteria, Thirdface loosens the reins only a little more than on Do It With A Smile, but the small change makes a profound difference. Thirdface’s onslaught of blasts and D-beats are no less present than ever, but now ‘grooves’ are allowed a little more life, stretching for an extra measure or for a full repetition before they’re snatched away. Simply, Ministerial Cafeteria gives more space for the dancers, but their faces will still be on the ground as they try to process what they’re hearing."

Fourth R.A.N.D. Muzik x Echocentric Records collaboration release is an album by DC Salas.

DC Salas' second album, To The Places I Call(ed) Home, is a deeply personal exploration of memories, grief, and the concept of home, blending house, progressive, new beat, acid, goa, and trance.

Crafted over two years in his Brussels studio and on the road, the album served as a healing process following personal losses and reconnects Salas with his father's Peruvian roots. It features collaborations with Curses and Moroccan artist Zaatar, and each track reflects moments that shape his life while honoring fragments of his past.

Despite its themes of loss, the album radiates positivity with bright dancefloor moments and new beginnings.

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Highly polished, cinematic “hypernoise” melded with industrial metal /rock. Follow up to 2019’s industrial noise classic, The Origin Of My Depression. Uboa’s fifth album Impossible Light almost never made it out of the dark. From its initial conception in 2018, this record went to hell and back, dragging its immensity and too-big-to-hold emotion through the torturous process of translation to sound and returned triumphantly as a full-bodied record in a distinct new style. Impossible Light begins where Uboa’s 2019 breakout album The Origin Of My Depression left off—and ends somewhere entirely different. The Origin stunned with its methodical use of doom, harsh noise, and ambient soundscapes while documenting a raw, unhindered account of Xandra Metcalfe’s experiences with her transition and her struggles with mental health. Over time The Origin steadily grew a cult-like following which developed into a full-fledged internet community focused around noise, neurodiversity and transness. While Uboa’s signature style of highly polished, cinematic “hypernoise” is front and center in Impossible Light, there is also a daring departure into the genres of industrial metal / rock, setting it apart from any other Uboa release thus far and distinguishing it from other contemporary noise records. Metcalfe kept the lyrical content of this record as a time capsule of the catastrophic ups and downs and rapidly changing environments within herself and in the world from 2018-2023. Key collaborators include Blood Of A Pomegranate, Otay:onii, Charlie Looker and Haela Hunt-Hendrix of Liturgy. Impossible Light dives fearlessly into queer sexuality, trans embodiment, grief for those who couldn’t make it, solidarity for those facing unimaginable discrimination, the toxic spread of transphobic hatred and misinformation, and the ultimate hope of recovery from trauma and mental anguish. This is a record about the light at the end of the tunnel and the power it takes to keep moving towards it

Ryan James Ford's Fuzz Gathering is a five-tracker that delves into the artist's personal exploration of sound and texture. Centered around the concept of ''fuzz gathering,'' Ford collects, analyses, and manipulates various sonic elements using innovative techniques and processes. Each track offers a fresh perspective of his sound, blending intricacies with experiments to create a unique auditory experience. Complementing the music is Ford's own artwork, which visually mirrors the EP's theme of exploring and deconstructing textures, adding another dimension to this creative expression.

You Are The Morning was formed amid personal upheaval in 2021. "I came out as trans to my nearest and dearest," she says, "Some did not accept me, but some did." Jasmine got divorced, and a difficult home life meant she was writing while experiencing homelessness and precarious housing, sleeping on friend's couches and relying on community support. Despite the pain of some of its background, the record is an uplifting look at t4t love. Jasmine describes her first trans romance as the first time she experienced joy in a deep sense, because of her experience of living as a woman. First single `Skin on Skin' explores the new joy of physical touch. Usually a quick writer, it's a rare song that grew over time, during which a close connection with a friend began to form. "Sticking to the physical boundaries we wanted to have with each other became increasingly difficult. We were spending lots of time together, then falling in love. This song became a celebration of healing and physical catharsis found through unrepressed queer love." The first UK signee on Saddest Factory Records, the album was produced by Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus. Jasmine and her band travelled to L.A. to record at Sound City Studios. It was made across 12 days in a highly collaborative and emotional process, and because Jasmine sees her songs as fluid and ever-changing, the recordings carry that free and spontaneous spirit. jasmine.4.t is supported by an all-trans band, Phoenix Rousiamanis contributes piano and strings, with Eden O'Brien on drums and Emily Abbott on bass. With Jasmine's voice and songwriting at the centre, the record incorporates a wider cast of voices. `Best Friend's House' features a chorus including her bandmates, Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus ("the girls and the boys"), Saddest Factory Records label-mate Claud, Becca Mancari and E.R. Fightmaster. The song carries the communal spirit of the record's creation. On the closing track, `Woman', she is backed by the Trans Chorus of Los Angeles, a cross-generational group of trans singers who, like Jasmine, use their voice as a source of communal power. The song blossoms from solo performance to wider group catharsis. All the while, Jasmine sings unwaveringly about the power of knowing yourself at a core level: "I am, in my soul, a woman". The writing of You Are The Morning pulled from dark moments to tell its story. Surrounded by friends, the recording process was full of light. Through her performances, activism and artistry, jasmine.4.t is ushering in a new dawn.

Expected late October/early November

Scott Gilmore’s Volume 01, an Analog Synth Gem, Makes Its Vinyl Debut - Pressed at 45RPM for maximum fidelity.

Recorded on a vintage Tascam 388, the LP version of Gilmore’s alluring, easy-going instrumental electronic record arrives in the physical world via In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi Records.

Los Angeles, CA — When the Los Angeles electronic musician and multi-instrumentalist Scott Gilmore recalls the creation of the songs on Volume 01, he describes specific moments of spontaneous inspiration. “I remember sitting at the tape deck, watching the leaves outside the window as they flittered in the sunlight—a moment of stillness that became intertwined with the melody I was recording,” Gilmore recalls, speaking of the track “Song For Cate.”

This sense of simplicity and presence is at the heart of Volume 01, which was recorded entirely on a Tascam 388 using a carefully curated selection of instruments.

Volume 01, an intimate, instinctual album that mixes lo-fi digital rhythms, strummed guitar, and melodic synth layers, is a collection of songs that captures Gilmore’s magnetic fluidity and the spontaneity of his process. Initially released digitally and as a limited edition cassette, Volume 01 is set to be issued on vinyl for the first time by In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi.

The Tascam 388 is a classic mid-1980s analog machine that combines an 8-track reel-to-reel tape recorder with a built-in mixing console. Volume 01 exudes the kind of hazy, nostalgic warmth that only such recorders can provide. For the nine-song album, Gilmore harnessed analog synths including the Arp Odyssey, Yamaha CS-01, Korg DW-8000, Hohner Pianet T, Roland TR 606, and Roland SH 101, as well as bamboo alto saxophone, clarinet, electric guitar, and electric bass.

The album is awash in brief, propellant pieces. At just over four minutes, the relatively epic “Horizon Line” is driven by a three-note snare pattern, a two-note cymbal tap, with a humble bass-line serving as the rudder; Gilmore’s improvised keyboard runs move with an intuitive, conversational glee. The pensive "Shade" sounds like it could be a Penguin Cafe Orchestra demo. Closing track “D. Hareem” runs on a wobbly time signature but with an insistent, determined rhythm that belies genre descriptives. “I prefer to not know what I’m making as I compose,” Gilmore says. “It’s when I can’t clearly define what the music is that it’s then something that I want to put out into the world.”

In hindsight, Volume 01 was a portent. After its 2016 cassette release, Gilmore connected with International Feel, the Balearic imprint run by Marc Barrot, to release the sublime Subtle Vertigo. In 2019, Gilmore’s music caught the attention of Marc Hollander, the experimental composer and founding member of Aksak Maboul, which led to a signing with the Belgian label Crammed Discs. That deal enabled the creation of Gilmore’s solo album Two Roomed Motel and Doctor Fluorescent, a retro-futuristic, Vocoder-heavy 2020 collaboration with Eddie Ruscha V, a.k.a. Secret Circuit). Across these projects, Gilmore’s work has been mentioned in the same sentences as Stereolab, Arthur Russell, Woo, Air, R. Stevie Moore, and others, all of whom have combined synths and non-synths to memorable effect.

With the upcoming vinyl release, Volume 01 will set into wax an enduring set of works, offering listeners the chance to experience analog artistry in its most authentic, tangible form. In Sheep’s Clothing Records is honored to bring Gilmore’s work to vinyl.

PIFF Records welcome 4 in - demand artists to the label on their latest release, also available as a limited 500 press vinyl release. Home to forward-thinking house, trance, and techno, PIFF Records boasts a diverse yet united musical output. Cosmic, dub - driven techno, atmospheric house beats, and everything in between coalesces under the imprint’s distinctive output of thoughtful, club - ready sounds. All aspects of PIFF Records come together on this release as the featured artists balance the cerebral and visceral in their productions.

Cybernet kicks off the release with Resonant Shifter. Pumping kicks lay the foundation for captivating synth arpeggios and warped call and response basses in this ‘90s - inspired cut of contemporary progressive trance. The perfect soundtrack for any location from sunset on the Ibiza seafront to sunrise as the shutters open at a warehouse rave.

Goa elements are out in full force on Hoe Down, courtesy of Glen S. Squelchy 303s, low textures, and metallic arpeggios resonate above a pulsating bassline and weighty kicks, relentlessly pushing forward and ascending to a new sonic dimension - taking you along for the ride.
Body Clinic substitutes the progressive trance for progressive house on Love X, bringing down the tempo but keeping intensity intact. An infectious, syncopated plucked bassline dances around groove - rich drums, psychedelic effects and leads indebted to early ‘90s releases. A masterful blend of the past, present, and future together on one track.

Closing the EP with Empty Clip, Tom Jarmey disrupts the 4x4 rhythms of the preceding tracks w ith a genre - bending cut of electro - infused breaks. Two-step drums are matched with clinical sound design, deep basses, and mystical arpeggios. Sure to add depth to any set and turn heads in the process.

Diving deeper into the story of Japanese reggae pop, Tokyo Riddim Vol. 2 explores an electronic, new wave and often experimental sound unlike anything Japan or Jamaica had ever heard before.

The first time Ryuichi Sakamoto left Japan, he did not go to the United States or Europe - he went to Jamaica. It was 1978, YMO were about to release their debut album, but Sakamoto was in Kingston, invited to play synths for Japanese idol singer Teresa Noda at Dynamic Sound Studios in a band alongside Neville Hinds and none other than Rita Marley. It’s not a story many know, but one which would spark Sakamoto’s fascination with dub and mark a new chapter in the ongoing Japanese love affair with reggae.

The Teresa Noda tracks they cut - ‘Tropical Love’ and ‘Yellow Moon’ - bookend this second volume of Time Capsule’s Tokyo Riddim compilation, which tells the wider story of how a fascination with Jamrock swept Japan, adding a dash of lime to that sweet city pop sound, embracing a globalised musical palette and creating a whole new genre in the process.

For some, like Sakamoto, a diversion into reggae was part of broader fascination with new sounds and styles, tipped into the global disco of homage and appropriation that made Japanese music of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s some of the most creative and undefinable in the world.

You had iconic shape-shifter Yosui Inoue, who toyed with reggae, afro-beat and electro-Balearic, (and whose For Life Records released several tracks on this comp), and Kay Ishiguro, who enlisted J-reggae originator Pecker on the ambitious Stevie Wonder-esque ‘Red Drip’.

Then there were the Compass Point devotees - producers and musicians alike who were enthralled by the sound of the Bahamas studio and drew on the detached cool of Grace Jones - as heard in the music of Juicy Fruits, and the disco noir of Casablanca-signed femme fatale Yuki Nakayamate. Sometimes, as was the case with Risa Minami, the J-reggae influence said more about Japan than it did about Jamaica.

But where Tokyo Riddim Vol. 1 focused on the city pop sound, this compilation goes further, digging out the more experimental collaborations and hybrids exemplified by Tomoko Aran, who in working with Yusuaki Shimizu and Mariah emphasised just how far reggae had travelled to be recast into something entirely new on the other side of the world.

Perhaps more than anything, in connecting the dots between Tokyo and Kingston, between Jamaica and Japan, the Japanese reggae was building a musical language that existed outside of the paradigms of US and European cultural hegemony - an encounter shaped by commerce, capital and creativity that is now being recognised more broadly for the first time.

Strange Power!, the fifth record from Durham, NC-based songwriter and poet Anne Malin Ringwalt, emerges from the darkest waters of the self into a world remade. Releasing in conjunction with her second book of poetry, What Floods (Inside the Castle, Oct. 2024), Strange Power! overflows with Ringwalt's teeming and sensuous personal symbolry: glowing lilacs and gentle queens, dolphins wild and girls who grew up brave _ T.S. Eliot sung by Cat Power, backed by Mount Eerie. She sings: "I rose up from water." Ringwalt writes and performs with the authority of a lifetime spent harnessing the alchemy of storytelling; her belief in the power of words to heal and transform is palpable in each achingly- delivered lyric. Made amidst profound inner and outer change, Strange Power! also sees Ringwalt taking up the role of self-producer for the first time, mirroring and supporting the record's Orphic quest by gathering contributions from a coterie of friends wielding an electric range of American instruments. Violins, vibraphones, drum machines, electric guitars dappled with spring reverb, wind-blown shells, and a host of other numinous sounds form an unfurling and shadowy world which was then carefully honed during the mixing process (shepherded by Michael Cormier-O'Leary and Lucas Knapp) _ settling the final record in an eerie meridian between spareness and verdancy. The result is a beguiling and darkly blooming realm: the sound of a personal cosmos being remade, piece by piece. Ringwalt is at the height of her spirit as both songwriter-poet and singer, her willowy voice by turns conjuring and keening as she reckons with her deep past and the stories told since. Opening track "The Pines" sets the stage for a record of truly life-long scope: "I was a child, now I hold her / I was asleep for many years." Some songs, like the gorgeous "North Carolina" and "The Saint," were written as early as 2013 but, Ringwalt says, "insisted upon being remembered" as the record took shape; in its final form, they serve as inciting moments of self-discovery before the journey to come. "The Visionary" recalls one of Ringwalt's earliest musical breakthroughs _ her re-rendering of an Emily Brontë poem into a song at age 15 _ and, she says, "`cites' the melody of that song in the context of this new one _ a holding of the past and present and every layer in between/beyond, in utter solitude _ a solitude that reflects certain aspects of abandon as a child and an adult..." This unusually lengthy time-scale lends Strange Power! a deeply moving sense of narrative fullness. Stretches of the record _ particularly the "Judgment Day" ? "River" ? "Lilac Bloom" trifecta that form the black heart of Side 1 _ may recall familiar wanderings of personal underworlds such as Mount Eerie's Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 or Neil Young's Ditch Trilogy. Yet this hollowed landscape is in turn exorcized by the a capella "I Know," in which Ringwalt sings "I won't be gutted by you / For giving and trying to heal / I won't be gutted, I am not a fool / I deserve a love that is new" before the song concludes with a piano passage that recalls hymnal music _ suggesting a faith in life itself to offer new beginnings. Side 2 features some of Ringwalt's most powerfully introspective writing to date, as the songwriter casts off myth after myth in her search for personal transformation. By the final song, "Stories," the energy that has been gathering all throughout the record breaks loose as Ringwalt reflects: "I wrote so many stories, not knowing what the end was." But at this stage in the journey, we know there is no such thing as an ending; if the healing process is never complete, the storyteller's strange power is what finally offers liberation.

Oakland's Naked Roommate have been slinking around the Bay Area lighting up stages, shaking asses & confounding listeners since 2018, when the group - originally just the duo of real-life partners Andy Jordan & Amber Sermeno (both formerly of The World) - self-released a cassette of demos (2018's "Naked Roommate"). Members Michael "Mig" Zamora & Alejandra Alcala (Blues Lawyer) joined soon after to augment the sound & live band with their proper full-length album "Do The Duvet", co-released in September of 2020 via UK label Upset! The Rhythm & Trouble In Mind. 2024 finds the lineup expanded even further to incorporate the horn section of Geoff Saba & Jeanne Oss on tenor & alto saxophones as well as percussion & marimba as the band readies their sophomore effort, the dizzyingly ecstatic "Pass The Loofah" Recorded by members Andy Jordan & Mig Zamora from 2021-2023 as time & restrictions allowed, "Pass The Loofah" retains the wild energy of their debut, but leans into the rhythmic throbs perpetuated by forbears like Kid Creole & The Coconuts, Lizzy Mercier Descloux & ESG; the signature sound of UK's On-U Sound & NYC's 99 Records, but with a decidedly West Coast irreverence & a knack for absurdist exposition. Make no mistake, this is music designed to make your body MOVE & Naked Roommate won't stop until they 've made sure every ass is shook. The band freely incorporates elements of the dancier side of post-punk (think A Certain Ratio or Liquid Liquid) as well as disco, funk, & house music. However, the group's uplifting melodicism belies a deeper subtext, understanding the importance of the sense of community of dance music & the culture surrounding it and leaning into a Neo-socialist lyrical context. Shit is fucked, & we get thru it by helping one another & acknowledging & addressing the failures of disaster Capitalism & tech-bro hegemony (a state the band is all-too familiar with, living in The Bay Area) Take the first single "Bus"; a four-on-the-floor banger & salutary paeon to the ups & downs of the people's transport that throbs & pulses with a late-night sashay (and a bridge that launches the tune into the stratosphere). Elsewhere, "Fight Flight "s funky horn stabs and Sermeno's slinky vocals swoon over Numan-esque synth squiggles that are fortified & funkified toward the dance floor. "Broken Whisper " edges into new territor y for the group, adding a Caribbean flavor a'la Kid Creole or The Specials that punctuates the persistent & synthetic beats underneath. Meanwhile instrumental interludes like "Ducky & Viv", "G-Y pt. 1" & "G-Y pt. 2" oscillate into zones of sci-fi meets soap opera soundtracks, sounding not unlike the electronic experiments of UK industrial pioneers Chris & Cosey. Album closer "I Can't Be Found" might be the album's secret weapon; It 's swooning synth melody & processed vocals recall early Daft Punk or MGMT by way of Derrick Carter & The Au Pairs. It 's a beautiful song; perfect for the late night (or early morning) car ride home from the club. "Pass The Loofah" is released worldwide on October 25th, 2024 via Trouble In Mind Records digitally via most DSPs & on black vinyl & limited "disco ball " silver vinyl.

Limited metallic silver/white "disco ball" splatter vinyl available while supplies last.

Oakland's Naked Roommate have been slinking around the Bay Area lighting up stages, shaking asses & confounding listeners since 2018, when the group - originally just the duo of real-life partners Andy Jordan & Amber Sermeno (both formerly of The World) - self-released a cassette of demos (2018's "Naked Roommate"). Members Michael "Mig" Zamora & Alejandra Alcala (Blues Lawyer) joined soon after to augment the sound & live band with their proper full-length album "Do The Duvet", co-released in September of 2020 via UK label Upset! The Rhythm & Trouble In Mind. 2024 finds the lineup expanded even further to incorporate the horn section of Geoff Saba & Jeanne Oss on tenor & alto saxophones as well as percussion & marimba as the band readies their sophomore effort, the dizzyingly ecstatic "Pass The Loofah" Recorded by members Andy Jordan & Mig Zamora from 2021-2023 as time & restrictions allowed, "Pass The Loofah" retains the wild energy of their debut, but leans into the rhythmic throbs perpetuated by forbears like Kid Creole & The Coconuts, Lizzy Mercier Descloux & ESG; the signature sound of UK's On-U Sound & NYC's 99 Records, but with a decidedly West Coast irreverence & a knack for absurdist exposition. Make no mistake, this is music designed to make your body MOVE & Naked Roommate won't stop until they 've made sure every ass is shook. The band freely incorporates elements of the dancier side of post-punk (think A Certain Ratio or Liquid Liquid) as well as disco, funk, & house music. However, the group's uplifting melodicism belies a deeper subtext, understanding the importance of the sense of community of dance music & the culture surrounding it and leaning into a Neo-socialist lyrical context. Shit is fucked, & we get thru it by helping one another & acknowledging & addressing the failures of disaster Capitalism & tech-bro hegemony (a state the band is all-too familiar with, living in The Bay Area) Take the first single "Bus"; a four-on-the-floor banger & salutary paeon to the ups & downs of the people's transport that throbs & pulses with a late-night sashay (and a bridge that launches the tune into the stratosphere). Elsewhere, "Fight Flight "s funky horn stabs and Sermeno's slinky vocals swoon over Numan-esque synth squiggles that are fortified & funkified toward the dance floor. "Broken Whisper " edges into new territor y for the group, adding a Caribbean flavor a'la Kid Creole or The Specials that punctuates the persistent & synthetic beats underneath. Meanwhile instrumental interludes like "Ducky & Viv", "G-Y pt. 1" & "G-Y pt. 2" oscillate into zones of sci-fi meets soap opera soundtracks, sounding not unlike the electronic experiments of UK industrial pioneers Chris & Cosey. Album closer "I Can't Be Found" might be the album's secret weapon; It 's swooning synth melody & processed vocals recall early Daft Punk or MGMT by way of Derrick Carter & The Au Pairs. It 's a beautiful song; perfect for the late night (or early morning) car ride home from the club. "Pass The Loofah" is released worldwide on October 25th, 2024 via Trouble In Mind Records digitally via most DSPs & on black vinyl & limited "disco ball " silver vinyl.

Elias Rønnenfelt is a musician and poet best known as the lead singer and lyricist of Iceage. Heavy Glory is his debut solo album. Out October 25th via Escho. Heavy Glory was recorded in Copenhagen in chapters and moments over the course of a year. Collaborators include Iceage's Dan Kjær Nielsen, Danish punk godfather Peter Peter, and singers Joanne Robertson (Elias and Joanne have collaborated before, on a number of recent Dean Blunt releases) and Fauzia. "I've done this so many times," Rønnenfelt explains, speaking of the process of crafting a long player, "but capturing and crystallising an album remains a singular ritual, just with different circumstances. We are capturing something that is hard to hold down." Heavy Glory is a record that examines all the things that lovers do, from the most desperate to the most pure. The lover haunts the record, reappearing and provoking Rønnenfelt, pulling him in and pushing him away. Songs like "Close" describe the line between jealousy and protectiveness. "Unarmed" is a song of surrender. "River of Madeleine" harnesses toughness in the name of preservation, staying up all night to protect his lover's dreams. "Stalker" is an epic third-person story song in the tradition of the murder ballad. The record closes with two covers. The first, Spacemen 3's "Sound of Confusion," is a mission statement of the life Rønnenfelt has found and inherited in music. "Here it comes," the song famously promises, and flares out into noise. It is a joyful noise, because this life, in all its grit, is the life he chose. The second, Townes Van Zandt's "No Place to Fall," is a sweet plea, Rønnenfelt's final invitation to join him on his journey. This journey - this story, this record - will repeat and continue. It never stops. Rønnenfelt's life as an artist results in a sound that wobbles and rocks but never loses its centre, both fragile and tough, and always moving forward. It is dreamy yet bombastic, held together by the passion of certainty. Co-produced by Rønnenfelt and Nis Bysted.

Belgian saxophonist, composer, and producer Mattias De Craene (Nordmann, MDCIII) announces a new solo album, ‘A House Where I Dream,’ on VIERNULVIER Records. On his second album, he delivers a highly personal and healing journey, presented as an alternative soundtrack to the 1973 cult film ‘The Holy Mountain.’

The record will be released on October 11 on vinyl LP and through all digital platforms.

"The Holy Mountain" is a surreal Mexican film from 1973 directed, written, and produced by Alejandro Jodorowsky, who also stars in the film. The film holds a prominent place in avant-garde cinema and explores themes such as spirituality, mysticism, and the quest for enlightenment. It is in this vein that ‘A House Where I Dream’ is crafted.

“My mind and soul - and thus my music - come home to this motion picture” - Mattias De Craene

The album will be presented live with the film on October 16 at Videodroom during Film Fest Gent.

ABOUT THE ALBUM
With hypnotic tape loops, grainy textures, and mesmerizing saxophone, Mattias De Craene creates possible worlds that herald a spiritual transformation. From the Scottish Highlands and desolate mountains to the deepest recesses of the soul, this music has the power to create cinematic landscapes that transcend time and space. The sound of these 8 tracks is closely related to the minimalist compositions of Terry Riley, but the work of contemporary artists like KMRU or William Basinski is also drawn from the same material.

Above all, this album is a deeply personal journey and unintentionally serves as a metaphor for De Craene's ascent of his own mountain. For the Videodroom festival by Arts Center VIERNULVIER, the saxophonist began working on a new soundtrack for the film ‘The Holy Mountain’ in 2023, but his body and mind abruptly called him to a halt, forcing him to take a professional break. However, this project never left him, leading to an honest and raw quest to find himself as both a person and an artist, with Jodorowsky as a companion de route and music as an anchor. It initiated a long process of dismantling, searching, healing and back again. The album not only provides a sanctuary for dreaming to all who listen, but for its creator it also serves as both an outcry of despair and a source of comfort during challenging times.

All the tracks on 'A House Where I Dream' share an unfiltered grain of life, as one can almost feel the damp breath of the saxophone blowing.

The album opens with the three-part strong 'Transcention,' where the hypnotic interplay between soprano sax and lo-fi tape loops leads to higher realms of the mind and soul.
Alternating between deep frequencies and farout folk modalities, this mantra-like triptych acquires an alchemical character and ultimately transcends time and space.

In the ethereal 'Away,' one can peer into an abyss of resonance while a saturated tenor sax lends guidance in the spirit of Terry Riley's productions. 'You and Me' also bathes in a similar atmosphere, albeit in the vein of healing 90s ambient as granular sax tones converge with celestial chants. 'Gazing Upwards Towards The Sky,' offers different shades of blue as a slumbering tenor sax is juxtaposed to swift sax patterns. On 'A Stranger That Moved Me,' beauty lands in a soft and subtle manner, while the closing track 'Shepherd's Glow' drifts like a mountain wind flaring up at the darkest hour of the night.

The artwork is created by Gent-based artist Sam Timmerman, who portrays the world of 'A House Where I Dream' with playful repetition and mystique.

Moon White Vinyl. All her life, Emma Hardyman has wrestled with contradictions. After all, she was practically rendered a living, breathing contradiction the moment she was born into her half-Peruvian, half-white working-class Mormon family. In young adulthood, Hardyman became increasingly disillusioned with Mormonism's righteous black-and-white thinking, as well as its exclusionary elitism, and decided to leave the church. But she also acknowledged that the institution's all-or-nothing philosophy had become a part of her, resulting in a considerable test of grace and unlearning. As the singer-songwriter behind Little Moon, the Tiny Desk Contest-winning, Utah-based avant-folk project, Hardyman uses music as an outlet to illuminate contradictions of all kinds. Following the release of her 2020 debut LP Unphased, Hardyman set out to write a romantic album about her newlywed husband Nathan (who also sings and plays guitar in Little Moon), but the universe had other plans. After Nathan's mother tragically passed away, Hardyman recalibrated her vision and started work on a love-as-grief, grief-as-love album titled Dear Divine. The record serves as a mirror for the darkest parts of ourselves, allowing us to examine our ego_not to dismantle it, but to better understand how we love, process adversity and move through the world. Centering the classical music, folk, video game soundtracks and Tabernacle Choir hymns she grew up with, as well as ephemeral snapshots of personal significance, Dear Divine is an abundant tapestry of Hardyman's life. As enlivening melodies radiate from a string trio, you can envision the classical music that thrums from her parents' radio 24/7, as Hardyman sings in an otherworldly coo, you can imagine her younger self swooning over the tranquil records of Vashti Bunyan and Joan Baez, and as arpeggiated synths twinkle, you can visualize the enchanting kingdom of Hyrule from The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time that she still adores. Songs like "now" and "messy love" embrace the gloriously jumbled stew of life, with the former chronicling Hardyman's arduous quest for love and trust and the latter patiently navigating the ways romantic partners can mirror each other's shortcomings. As Dear Divine attests, Emma Hardyman may not have it all figured out, but that's kind of the point. Through grief, faith crises and all-encompassing love, she's found the most wisdom in life's maddeningly consistent inconsistencies, as well as the subtle ways one can cultivate a feeling of home. Dear Divine doesn't take a red pen to life, it brings an open heart, an open mind and achingly beautiful, opulently weird folk songs.

In 2007 an Italian film festival invites Mouse on Mars to score a film of their choice. The organizers claim to be able to clear the rights for any movie the band chooses. Werner Herzog’s fictional documentary Fata Morgana, which merges footage of several desert explorations by Herzog and his team into one continuous association, has long been a band’s favorite. The film comes with a soundtrack by Mozart, Leonard Cohen, Third Ear Band and field recordings. Andi Toma and Jan St. Werner are sent a DVD to Düsseldorf and start working. The idea is to score the film in real time so instrumentation has to be readily at hand: guitar, percussion, electronics, mouth harp, pedals, software, tapes, samplers. Once the arrangement for the three-part film is sorted Mouse on Mars bring their score to stage. Herzog Sessions is performed twice: first when the band still thought the rights had been cleared, and a second time at London’s Southbank Center knowing that Herzog would have never approved a new score.

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Mouse On Mars – London Queen Elizabeth Hall soundtracking Werner Herzog.
By Mike Diver, 24.04.2009

Filmed in 1971, Fata Morgana is perhaps not one of Herzog’s best-known works (think Grizzly Man, Rescue Dawn, et cetera…), but then Mouse on Mars have never been ones to embrace the mainstream, quietly letting their modern, experimental take on krautrock do the talking over the years, thus producing some quietly brilliant electronica that far outweighs their modest profile.

The film itself is not altogether dissimilar to the wonderful, Phillip Glass-scored Koyaanisqatsi, with sweeping landscape shots and no obvious plot or narrative, though Fata is concentrated purely in one place – in and around the Sahara Desert, switching from images of barren wasteland to desert tribes and dead, skeletal cattle.

The obvious thing to do when soundtracking such powerful imagery is to vie for dreamy electronic soundscapes which can be sustained for a long period, and whilst this ambient shoegaze approach was present and correct (also carefully constructed and highly effective), Mouse on Mars added a human element to the performance, incorporating a live dimension by using and looping guitars, harmonicas, processed vocals and even a live horn player (quite possibly a flugelhorn. Look it up if you don’t believe me) for the final section of the film.

Some of the most interesting points arose when the duo suddenly switched from solemn, ambient tones to glitchy, bouncing electro (reminiscent of their more upbeat work) whilst on the same film shot – causing the audience mood to flick from tripped-out bliss to attentive semi-wired, utterly subverting any idea of a narrative the film may have possessed. Clever stuff.

Ranging from sinister to surreal to humorous, all the moods portrayed in Fata Morgana were successfully matched by Mouse on Mars’ live rescore – no mean feat. The duo also went above and beyond the call of duty with their own soundtrack, adding a fascinating personal signature to an already unique film.

Nuclear's seventh studio release brings something different to the table. Three new rabid songs and three covers songs are going to be way too much brutality for you to easily process. Beware; this new album will transport you to the early 90s and will not let you go until it ends. Thick sounding guitars, insanely fast drumming and non-stop deafening screams are the key ingredients for the perfect storm: VIOLENT DNA.
Not to be missed songs: "Violent DNA" and "Psychological Infanticide", are just a hint of this short but effective aggression from this south American quintet. Even without listening to it, you'll be caught by just looking at the graphic and gruesome cover art.
Without a doubt, VIOLENT DNA will become a MUST for all metalheads in 2024.
This is something we cannot change: This is our Violent DNA.
Sound Like: Early Sepultura, Vomitory, Sodom, Exodus, Obituary, Slayer and Napalm Death.

Sam Redmore made a significant impact on the UK music scene with his debut album Universal Vibrations, a vibrant collection of eclectic, dancefloor-ready tracks that earned extensive radio play on BBC 6 Music. His follow-up album Modulate builds on this foundation, blending electronic and live instrumentation across a diverse range of genres, from house and funk to afrobeat and salsa. Sam, now exploring and expanding his creative process, incorporated live performances into the album's development, and collaborated with notable artists including Dele Sosimi and Abdominal.