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Anohni has shared an emotive cover of Gloria Gaynor's 1978 classic 'I WIll Survive'. The track was a staple of her early live shows and opens with a graceful string arrangement by Maxim Moston, paired with piano performed by Anohni. Prior to the track being widely available on streaming platforms, Anohni shared a video incorporating live footage alongside messages dedicated to groups and causes that Anohni has long been an activist and advocate for. During the clip, Anohni dedicates the song to "the sacred gay people"; "all endangered Black trans lives"; "those in the US who die from medical neglect"; "the coral reefs of the world, now rotting"; "all those awaiting execution in US death chambers"; "Black lives tortured and stolen by American cops" and more. The messages reflect Anohni's longer values and work as an artist, trans activist, environmentalist and advocate for social justice. Alongside the release is a statement from Anohni, on the track being the subject of a licensing offer she turned down due to the platform in question hosting misleading pro-Trump ads. Further on the track, Anohni explains: "It was the first song I ever sang in nightclubs in NYC when I was 20 years old. I sang it hundreds of times. In those days I sang it thinking of Marsha P. Johnson and the underground queer community struggling to survive in the face of AIDS. Now it seems to me like an anthem for the future of life on earth." 'I Will Survive' follows a brace of releases from Anohni this year: most recently 'R.N.C 2020', a track inspired by the Republican National Convention which took place in August and the dread Anohni felt while watching it. Prior to that, Anohni released a 7" consisting of two covers, one of Bob Dylan's 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue' with a b-side of Nina Simone's 'Be My Husband'.

A guitarry hybrid of AZITA’s edgy rock / soul / R&B sound. Grooving good times, acerbic exchanges overheard in the street, shifts in community, the losses you will carry always, dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you've never felt before. Life.
All instruments played by AZITA; the wackest, most AZITA-harmonious sounding pop album yet.
For those who find the passage of time a one-way process of attrition, here’s good news for you. In the eight years since AZITA’s last long-player her fevered brain has barely rested and the proof is a new album of unbounded physical and mental activity, music and entertainment, entitled ‘Glen Echo’.
The worlds of the previous AZITAs have left their unmistakable essence. Her singular conception of pop music - the idiosyncratic songs, singing and playing that have graced seven acclaimed releases - is in verdant recurrence on ‘Glen Echo’, blossoming anew, cutting sharply in the spirit and image of her everevolving, always questioning style.
Writing and arranging on keyboards since the time of her solo debut, AZITA focused on guitars for this set of songs. Not simply for swagger or a fresh approach to soloing but as part of a way to elide expected singer-songwriter tropes, to democratically populate the sound-stage in equal partnership instead.
This is a key aspect of the ‘Glen Echo’ sound, one that determined another new choice - AZITA playing everything on the album herself.
Previous long-players ‘Enantiodromia’, ‘Life On the Fly’ and ‘How Will You?’ were achieved via close work with players and engineers who took the compositions from the demo to a finished form. Invariably though, something would get lost in the transmigration somewhere. With ‘Glen Echo’, AZITA comes through fully, jaggedly, most vividly, owning her intention entirely in the dialogue of singing and playing her rock and rhythm and blues.
The lyric sheet is riddled with language that circles, through the many moments of life, aspects of the passage of time, the pre-empted dreams and strangeness of the present and the way we invent an idealized past in response to the changes, guiding the narrative... where? It’s all banded together by AZITA’s wit, equal parts droll and dire, her dispassionate view of fates and outcomes for all of us here together on the planet, textured with unique, cinematic details and sudden dives into a deeply felt, utterly OG sense of soul.
In ‘Glen Echo’ are a multitude of sounds - all the moments in a life: the good time grooves, acerbic exchanges in the street, shifts in community and generosity, moments of loss you know you will carry forever, reflection upon unknown futures and pasts, the dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you’ve never felt before. You name it, AZITA’s got some sweet and sour theme music for it.

I’ve known Alex Bleeker my entire life. Well, okay, maybe not since I was born, but there’s no doubt that I’ve shared a fair bit of memories with him over the years. We’ve acted in high school productions of Shakespeare together, gone on late-night diner runs, argued about which Weezer album is the band’s best, and swapped mutual appreciation for the music of Yo La Tengo on car rides careening around the snaky suburbia of our hometown. Just like his Real Estate bandmates Martin Courtney and Julian Lynch, we attended high school in the New Jersey enclave of Ridgewood, a place where sticky summer days yielded cool nights with a glow so nocturnal that you can practically hear the fireflies buzzing off of this sentence alone.

Indie rock—a type of music that can easily be made or listened to in someone’s garage—often dominates teenage suburban preoccupations, and both Alex and I were no exception. You can hear this legacy of listening on his new album Heaven on the Faultline, which departs from his last full-band outing as Alex Bleeker and the Freaks, 2015’s Country Agenda. Whereas that album had a more full-bodied explicitly folk-y feel, Heaven on the Faultline finds Bleeker getting back to his homespun roots over the course of its 13 songs, from the jangly guitar pop of New Jersey heroes the Feelies and YLT’s hushed, acoustic reveries to the open-hearted folk rock that marks so much of the Grateful Dead’s early catalog.

Written and recorded over the last several years, Heaven on the Faultline’s songs were initially recorded straight to GarageBand in Bleeker’s bedroom before receiving further studio refinement in co-producer Phil Hartunian’s Tropico Beauty space in Los Angeles. With contributions from Confusing Mix of Nations’ Josh Da Costa, Cameron Stallones of Sun Araw, singer-songwriter Kacey Johansing, and Parting Lines’ Tim Ramsey, Heaven on the Faultline achieves a warm and intimate feel that defines Bleeker’s mission for the album: “I wanted to capture the moment in which I fell in love with making music to begin with. This is music for myself—me getting back to music for music’s sake.”

The unsteady times we live in certainly creep into view on Heaven on the Faultline. The deceptively easygoing “D Plus” was written on the day of President Donald Trump’s inauguration with the cursed event in mind, while the anxiety of climate change hovers just above the lovely guitar loops of “Felty Feel.” “The album is very much about dealing with the anxiety of a sense of impending doom,” Bleeker states while discussing the album’s portentous vibes. “When is the hammer going to fall? How do we go forward in the face of such anxiety and experience the complexity of life?”

Tough questions with few answers, but try not to stress too much. It’s possible to experience such existential doubt while also enjoying the simple pleasures that life has to offer, and that ethos is square at the heart of Heaven on the Faultline. It defines who Alex Bleeker is, too, and is one of many reasons why I’m proud to have known this special person and artist for so long.

Larry Fitzmaurice

Clock, featuring two extraordinary songs written and performed by Arden herself. A vinyl-only edition of 250 copies, with fold-out poster and insert containing sleevenotes by Jack Bond, Sam Dunn, Charlotte Procter and Sebastian Saville. Arden and Bond’s collaborative career gave Britain some of the most extraordinary films it ever produced. Their filmography is woefully short - but it’s full to the brim of incredible, daring ideas and completely unfettered imagination. It’s packed, too, with pain and a disconcerting honesty about the human condition; challenging commonly-held ideas about madness and positing ideas which are far less easy to categorise or control. Anti-Clock, their final work together - Arden took her own life three years after its release - is a complex, contemplative piece, and Arden’s apparently comforting delivery of her self-penned songs and the see-saw flow of Mihai Dragutescu’s delicate instrumentation act only as a means to lure us in; to begin the de-programming. In Arden's book You Don’t Know What You Want, Do You?, the basis for the network of ideas at play in Anti-Clock – the motif of the rat is used as a metaphor for the rational mind. The lyrics to ‘Sleepwalking’ (living in a daze, wandering in a maze) also conjure up images of lab rats, of unthinking beings adhering to rules and systems, never questioning what is beyond what they think they know to be true. At the close of Anti-Clock, the central character, Sapha, simply says, ‘It has been my whole life's will to decode this puzzle, as though inside the answer to this equation was the insurance of that peace of mind that had eluded me. But there is no puzzle. And the mind is never peaceful. And dawn’s already here as the stars appear.’

Thumbing Thru Foliage is a blunted journey through YUNGMORPHEUS’ mind where personal lyrics intertwine with socio-political themes and tongue in cheek humour. Produced entirely by ewonee. Lead single ‘Fistfulofgreens’ grooves on a g-funk-esque plain and is an assured mission statement - “original man who got the game plan, I aint switching my hands inside these strange lands” whilst also sharing some intimate insight “I don’t ever answer questions that the feds askin, they were cuffin’ my mama, you know I had to blast them”. Second single ‘Sovereignty’ takes a more soulful turn with ceremonial strings and r&b samples ringing under braggadocious bars. Third single ‘Middle Passage’ is a more introspective cut - sombre vocal and piano loops are juxtaposed with neck snappin’ energetic drums. Describing the project in his own words, YUNGMORPHEUS says, “Peace peace, I consider this album a call to action of sorts. The world is rife with distractions and oppressive tactics but niggas move through it nonetheless ! Respect to ewonee for providing a beautiful backdrop for me to get some much needed shit off my chest. Maneuver through the foliage yall... Power to all black people ! Salute to those who listen”. ewonee adds, “Growing up like we did in this corporation Neegas deal with a lot. Usually gotta go through the mud to get to the greens. Good comes with the bad and vice versa, learning how to adjust is a must. Hope y’all get that from this. Roll up count up and mount up. PEACE”. YUNGMORPHEUS is an American rapper and record producer, originally from Miami but now based in LA. He has released music on Leaving Records and Rap Vacation as well as collaborating with Pink Siifu, Fly Anakin, Koncept Jack$on and Ohbliv. Previously supported by Okayplayer, XLR8R, Bandcamp, DJ Booth, Tiny Mix Tapes, Earmilk, BBC6 Music, Dublab, NTS and Worldwide FM. ewonee is an American Multi-instrumentalist, Producer, Beat-maker & Audio engineer from New York. Part of the Mutant Academy crew and also involved with the Beat Haus Show, ewonee has previously produced & collaborated with the likes of Your Old Droog, Fly Anakin, Reginald Chapman and Koncept Jack$on.

For a band that resists repeating itself, picking up lessons from a decade prior is the strange route Cloud Nothings took to create their most fully-realized album. Their new record, The Shadow I Remember, marks eleven years of touring, a return to early songwriting practices, and revisiting the studio where they first recorded together.

In a way not previously captured, this album expertly combines the group’s pummeling, aggressive approach with singer-songwriter Dylan Baldi’s extraordinary talent for perfect pop. To document this newly realized maturity, the group returned to producer Steve Albini and his Electrical Audio studios in Chicago, where the band famously destroyed its initial reputation as a bedroom solo project with the release of 2012 album Attack on Memory.

Another throwback was Baldi’s return to constant songwriting à la the early solo days, which led to the nearly 30 demos that became the 11 songs on The Shadow I Remember. Instead of sticking to a tried-but-true formula, his songwriting stretched out while digging deeper into his melodic talents. “I felt like I was locked in a character,” Baldi says of becoming a reliable supplier of heavy, hook-filled rock songs. “I felt like I was playing a role and not myself. I really didn’t like that role.” More frequent writing led to the freedom in form heard on The Shadow I Remember. What he can’t do alone is get loud and play noisily, which is exactly what happened when the entire band— bassist TJ Duke, guitarist Chris Brown, and drummer Jayson Gerycz—convened.

The band had more fun in the studio than they’ve had in years, playing in their signature, pulverizing way, while also trying new things. The absurdly catchy “Nothing Without You” includes a first for the band: Macie Stewart of Ohmme contributes guest vocals. Elsewhere, celebrated electronic composer Brett Naucke adds subtle synthesizer parts.

The songs are kept trim, mostly around the three-minute mark, while being gleefully overstuffed. Almost every musical part turns into at least two parts, with guitar and drums opening up and the bass switching gears. “That’s the goal—I want the three-minute song to be an epic,” Baldi says. “That’s the short version of the long-ass jam.”

Lyrically, Baldi delivers an aching exploration of tortured existence, punishing self-doubt, and the familiar pangs of oppressive mystery. “Am I something?” Baldi screams on the song of the same name. “Does anybody living out there really need me?” It’s a heartbreaking admission of existential confusion, delivered hoarsely, with an instantly relatable melody.

“Is this the end/ of the life I've known?” he asks on lead single and album opener “Oslo.” “Am I older now/ or am I just another age?” Despite the questioning lyrics, the band plays with more assurance and joy than ever before. The Shadow I Remember announces Cloud Nothings’ second decade and it sounds like a new beginning.

For a band that resists repeating itself, picking up lessons from a decade prior is the strange route Cloud Nothings took to create their most fully-realized album. Their new record, The Shadow I Remember, marks eleven years of touring, a return to early songwriting practices, and revisiting the studio where they first recorded together.

In a way not previously captured, this album expertly combines the group’s pummeling, aggressive approach with singer-songwriter Dylan Baldi’s extraordinary talent for perfect pop. To document this newly realized maturity, the group returned to producer Steve Albini and his Electrical Audio studios in Chicago, where the band famously destroyed its initial reputation as a bedroom solo project with the release of 2012 album Attack on Memory.

Another throwback was Baldi’s return to constant songwriting à la the early solo days, which led to the nearly 30 demos that became the 11 songs on The Shadow I Remember. Instead of sticking to a tried-but-true formula, his songwriting stretched out while digging deeper into his melodic talents. “I felt like I was locked in a character,” Baldi says of becoming a reliable supplier of heavy, hook-filled rock songs. “I felt like I was playing a role and not myself. I really didn’t like that role.” More frequent writing led to the freedom in form heard on The Shadow I Remember. What he can’t do alone is get loud and play noisily, which is exactly what happened when the entire band— bassist TJ Duke, guitarist Chris Brown, and drummer Jayson Gerycz—convened.

The band had more fun in the studio than they’ve had in years, playing in their signature, pulverizing way, while also trying new things. The absurdly catchy “Nothing Without You” includes a first for the band: Macie Stewart of Ohmme contributes guest vocals. Elsewhere, celebrated electronic composer Brett Naucke adds subtle synthesizer parts.

The songs are kept trim, mostly around the three-minute mark, while being gleefully overstuffed. Almost every musical part turns into at least two parts, with guitar and drums opening up and the bass switching gears. “That’s the goal—I want the three-minute song to be an epic,” Baldi says. “That’s the short version of the long-ass jam.”

Lyrically, Baldi delivers an aching exploration of tortured existence, punishing self-doubt, and the familiar pangs of oppressive mystery. “Am I something?” Baldi screams on the song of the same name. “Does anybody living out there really need me?” It’s a heartbreaking admission of existential confusion, delivered hoarsely, with an instantly relatable melody.

“Is this the end/ of the life I've known?” he asks on lead single and album opener “Oslo.” “Am I older now/ or am I just another age?” Despite the questioning lyrics, the band plays with more assurance and joy than ever before. The Shadow I Remember announces Cloud Nothings’ second decade and it sounds like a new beginning.

Generally speaking, albums are created over the course of a few weeks, months, or years. However when it comes to Airplane Mode, not only has it spanned the latter, but its DNA was formed across two continents, a multitude of significant life changes, and an overall renaming of the projects title.

What started as a collaboration effort morphed in to a sonic space that Tall Black Guy used to highlight questions many of us frequently ask, but struggle to answer; Why am I here? Am I enough? What makes me happy? How do I move forward? What does real love feel like? Although the answers may be different for us all, Airplane Mode sets the path that the listeners use to reach their own conclusion.

In closing, rarely does 40 minutes capture the essence of so many different facades of an artist’s process, and personal transition. As intimate as the album may be, Tall Black Guy leaves room for people to shape their own interpretation by what they bring to the listening experience. Airplane Mode demands your complete consideration, and is intended to be consumed without skips, or interruptions. In other words, sit back, relax, and put your mind in….Airplane Mode!

Enter, ANGST a series of musical ‘essays on the ephemeral being’ by Portuguese pianist and composer Tiago Sousa.

After 2015’s Um Piano nas Barricadas (Discrepant, CREP23) Sousa expands his compositional chops by writing and performing along with a trio made of clarinet, percussion and vibraphone adding a magical realism aura to the music.

It was fate that the releasing of these compositions would arrive in one of the most troubled passages of recent memory, just as a new decade begins. If it was already established that anguish is one of the hallmarks haunting our modern era, these last few years expose this existential feeling with even greater urgency.

The album that Tiago now presents, part angst part nostalgic escapism addresses this very modern concern as well as other themes dear to the so-called existentialist thinkers such as Heidegger, Camus or Kierkegaard, who among others, seek to directly challenge the Being with various concepts such as Repetition, Temporality, Interiority, Despair…

Throughout the 8 themes here presented, a delicate attempt is made to sketch a phenomenological cartography through its content and form, loosely describing the feeling of being launched into the wide world and the discovery of one self. In other words, the artist’s aim here is to convey the growing pains that the whole question about the meaning of life throws at us.

In an approach that is difficult to catalogue, the album tries to avoid genres and crystallizations in which music presents itself as a vehicle to express the ineffable and the incommunicable, expressing instead a magical world of wonder and enchantment.

-LTD. MAGENTA VINYL-

What is the utility of pain? Can it do anything but fester? In Ferneaux explores pain in motion, building audio-spatial chambers of experience and memory. Using an archive of field recordings from a decade of global travels, isolation gave Blanck Mass an opportunity to make connections in a moment when being together is impossible. The record is divided into two long-form journeys that gather the memories of being with now-distant others through the composition of a nostalgic travelogue. The journeys are haunted with the vestiges of voices, places, and sensations. These scenes alternate with the building up and releasing of great aural tension, intensities that emerge from the trauma of a personal grieving process which has perhaps embraced its rage moment. An encounter with a prophetic figure on the streets of San Francisco presented the question of "how to handle the misery on the way to the blessing." This is the quandary of the impasse we now all find ourselves in, trapped in our little caves, grappling with the unease of the self at rest - without movement, without the consumerist agenda of "new experiences." The possibility of growth, always defined by our connections with others, held in limbo. Sartre said that "Hell is other people," but perhaps this is the Inferno of the present: the space of sitting with the self. A blessing is often thought of as a future reward, above and beyond the material plane. With In Ferneaux, Blanck Mass wrangles the immanent materials of the here-and-now to build a sense of transcendence. Here, the uncanny angelic hymn sits comfortably beside the dirge. The misery and blessing are one.

Wyvern Lingo are ready to reveal another taste of their highly-anticipated second album ‘Awake You Lie’, in the shape of record opener ‘Only Love, Only Light’. “This album is so much about us comforting each other. It’s about being in your late-twenties, when all the pieces are starting to settle into place and you worry whether or not you’ve made the right moves” - Wyvern Lingo, October 2020. ‘Awake You Lie’ will be released on Friday 26th February. Recorded in JRS studios in Berlin pre-COVID, with the final tweaks managed in lockdown Ireland, ‘Awake You Lie’ comes almost two years to the day after their widely acclaimed, Choice Music Prize-nominated, debut album. The tracks released thus far, accompanied by videos filmed in both Berlin and Bray, show a band brimming with confidence in their sound, relaxed in their environment, but still ready to ask hard questions about their place in the world. To describe Wyvern Lingo as ‘tight-knit’ wouldn’t even cover it - they have long debunked the myth that you can’t choose your family. After all, the band was formed in Bray in a teenage world of self-discovery, soundtracked by the 60's/70's music of their parents, and the 90's/00's R'n'B of their childhood. If anything, the band - Caoimhe Barry, Karen Cowley and Saoirse Duane - are closer than ever two years on from their first album, a steely, us-against-the-world determination that has its roots in their origin story. If the self-titled first album caught the band on the cusp of transitioning from folky songstresses to R’n’B/alt-pop influenced players, then ‘Awake You Lie’ sees Wyvern Lingo fully immersed in who they are as a band - superb musicians and supernatural harmonisers with a gimlet eye to spear the ever shifting mores of modern relationships, both intimate and platonic. The album title - ‘Awake You Lie’ - is taken from a line in the new song ‘Aurora’, the phones-aloft, showstopper that closes side 1 of the record. The band add: “A recurring image during this album writing process was light, the lack thereof, and wanting to see things more clearly, for ourselves and others. We called the album "Awake You Lie" because it evokes an image of night-time when someone should be sleeping but can’t, due to restlessness or worry..

Crazy human Farming EP... Kicker and breaker industrial acid techno... Defenitly all a question of point of view.
Superb sleeve from Darkam and mastering byu Stefan ZMK...

Badass !!!!

"Do you feel what I feel too?" Brijean Murphy floats the question at the start of Feelings, the full-length Ghostly International debut from Brijean, her collaborative project with Doug Stuart. Guided by a lush mix of charismatic keyboard chords, grooving bass lines, and radiant bongo-driven rhythms, the "Day Dreaming" lyric doubles as an invitation and a statement of intention. Brijean want you to move, physically, mentally, dimensionally; this is dance music for the mind, body, and soul. With Feelings, they've manifested a gentle collective space for respite, for self-reflection, for self-care, for uninhibited imagination and new possibilities. The album cultivates a specific vibe, a softness Murphy has come to call "romancing the psyche." Growing up in a family immersed in jazz, Latin and soul music, Murphy would become an accomplished DJ, session and live player in Oakland's diverse music scene and one of indie's most in-demand percussionists (Poolside, Toro Y Moi, U.S. Girls). In 2018, she began recording songs with multi-instrumentalist and producer Doug Stuart, who shares a background in jazz and pop in bands such as Bells Atlas, Meernaa, and Luke Temple. Following their first sessions, which resulted in the mini-album Walkie Talkie (released in 2019 on Native Cat Recordings), the duo continued freeform hangs in Oakland, inviting friends Chaz Bear, Tony Peppers, and Hamir Atwal. "We improvised on different feels for hours," says Murphy. "Nothing quite developed at first but we had seeds. We re-opened the sessions a couple months later, after returning from tours, and spent a month developing the songs in a little 400 square foot cottage." Aforementioned album opener "Day Dreaming" is a dynamic celebration of newness: the excitement in finding deeper understandings of yourself as you get to know someone, something, or somewhere new. "Wifi Beach" drops a pin in pure psych-pop exotica. With Atwal on drums, Stuart on bass, Peppers on keys, and Bear engineering, the group improvised the track's intro sequence based on the vision of a lavish 1970s pool party. Establishing the scene is a mid-frequency drum kit disco shuffle augmented by tight congas and timbale effect, as Murphy sings in spurts: "I want to be / Deep in love / I want to be / Say you love me too / I want to be / Honey." The stanzas cut between "reflective moments of wants and being overwhelmed by feelings of the present," she explains. "A lot of the `love songs' I write are to my psyche, self-reflections on how to encourage tender perspectives and make more time for the sweet stuff." Though there is a loose, dance-oriented motif throughout, the material gives way to somnolent turns. On "Ocean," Brijean's anodyne lyrics, reminiscent of Astrud Gilberto's airy croon, float atop a brushed drum pattern, sparkling rhodes lines, and pittering and softly funky woodblock bops. The opening line sets up the rest, "In this gentle space we lay" _ among the album's propensity for movement, tracks like "Ocean" stand out by leaning back for momentary sways of blissful introspection. Murphy calls the charming "Hey Boy" a "psychedelic guide _ the exploration of finding what feels good _ through sorrow, anxiety, apathy." This mentality applies to Feelings on the whole: in these nebulous and verdant worlds of hazy melodies, feathery hooks, and percussive details, the songs simply want us to feel alive. They radiate in wonderful abandon and with a sense of devotion to the self. RIYL: Stereolab, Astrud Gilberto, Air, Little Dragon, Broadcast, Khruangbin, Poolside.

LTD. BLUE & PINK SWIRL VINYL

"Do you feel what I feel too?" Brijean Murphy floats the question at the start of Feelings, the full-length Ghostly International debut from Brijean, her collaborative project with Doug Stuart. Guided by a lush mix of charismatic keyboard chords, grooving bass lines, and radiant bongo-driven rhythms, the "Day Dreaming" lyric doubles as an invitation and a statement of intention. Brijean want you to move, physically, mentally, dimensionally; this is dance music for the mind, body, and soul. With Feelings, they've manifested a gentle collective space for respite, for self-reflection, for self-care, for uninhibited imagination and new possibilities. The album cultivates a specific vibe, a softness Murphy has come to call "romancing the psyche." Growing up in a family immersed in jazz, Latin and soul music, Murphy would become an accomplished DJ, session and live player in Oakland's diverse music scene and one of indie's most in-demand percussionists (Poolside, Toro Y Moi, U.S. Girls). In 2018, she began recording songs with multi-instrumentalist and producer Doug Stuart, who shares a background in jazz and pop in bands such as Bells Atlas, Meernaa, and Luke Temple. Following their first sessions, which resulted in the mini-album Walkie Talkie (released in 2019 on Native Cat Recordings), the duo continued freeform hangs in Oakland, inviting friends Chaz Bear, Tony Peppers, and Hamir Atwal. "We improvised on different feels for hours," says Murphy. "Nothing quite developed at first but we had seeds. We re-opened the sessions a couple months later, after returning from tours, and spent a month developing the songs in a little 400 square foot cottage." Aforementioned album opener "Day Dreaming" is a dynamic celebration of newness: the excitement in finding deeper understandings of yourself as you get to know someone, something, or somewhere new. "Wifi Beach" drops a pin in pure psych-pop exotica. With Atwal on drums, Stuart on bass, Peppers on keys, and Bear engineering, the group improvised the track's intro sequence based on the vision of a lavish 1970s pool party. Establishing the scene is a mid-frequency drum kit disco shuffle augmented by tight congas and timbale effect, as Murphy sings in spurts: "I want to be / Deep in love / I want to be / Say you love me too / I want to be / Honey." The stanzas cut between "reflective moments of wants and being overwhelmed by feelings of the present," she explains. "A lot of the `love songs' I write are to my psyche, self-reflections on how to encourage tender perspectives and make more time for the sweet stuff." Though there is a loose, dance-oriented motif throughout, the material gives way to somnolent turns. On "Ocean," Brijean's anodyne lyrics, reminiscent of Astrud Gilberto's airy croon, float atop a brushed drum pattern, sparkling rhodes lines, and pittering and softly funky woodblock bops. The opening line sets up the rest, "In this gentle space we lay" _ among the album's propensity for movement, tracks like "Ocean" stand out by leaning back for momentary sways of blissful introspection. Murphy calls the charming "Hey Boy" a "psychedelic guide _ the exploration of finding what feels good _ through sorrow, anxiety, apathy." This mentality applies to Feelings on the whole: in these nebulous and verdant worlds of hazy melodies, feathery hooks, and percussive details, the songs simply want us to feel alive. They radiate in wonderful abandon and with a sense of devotion to the self. RIYL: Stereolab, Astrud Gilberto, Air, Little Dragon, Broadcast, Khruangbin, Poolside.

When Claud Mintz's mother finally heard the 13 songs on her kid's magnetic first album, Super Monster, she asked a concerned question: Just how many people had her 21-year-old dated? From beginning to end, these sparkling pop tunes capture the assorted stages of a relationship's delight and dejection_the giddy sensation of a first kiss during the beaming "Overnight," the heartsick longing of a pending rejection during the yearning "Jordan," the reluctant call for a requisite breakup during the smoldering "Ana." Claud, though, replied that these songs detailed the phases of only two or three relationships, simply written during them or at various points after they were over. The debut release on Phoebe Bridgers' Saddest Factory Records, Super Monster is a vertiginous but joyous coming-of-age reckoning with such young love. Claud sees relationships as games of endless wonder, intrigue, and second-guesses, a roller-coaster thrilling you even when it's terrifying. If "Gold" turns the tension and indecision of a bad match into an undeniable bit of lithe disco, "That's Mr. Bitch To You" uses a spurt of righteous indignation to fuse a little soul and emo into one breathless hook. Super Monster is like a compulsive compilation that Claud culled from a lifetime of musical enthusiasms_the arcing alt-rock of '90s airwaves, the rapturous pop of '00s chart-toppers, the diligent genre-hopping of modern online life. Claud emerges as the chameleonic mastermind of this mélange, channeling all of love's emotions into songs so sharp they make even the hardest times feel fun. Perhaps you are in the throes of one of these romantic moments yourself right now, resentful of a frustrating paramour like Claud during "Pepsi" or indulging in lust like "In or In Between." Or maybe these songs recall those wild days and tough situations. Incisive, instant, and addictive Super Monster works on either level_to remind us of love's wild ups and downs or to help us deal with them in real time. In that way, Mom, these songs are about dating, well, everyone.

English thrash metal outfit Xentrix is commonly referred to as one of the “big four” of English thrash metal, given their popularity in the underground metal scene of the 1980s to mid-1990s. The band released their second studio album For Whose Advantage? in 1990. It gave them even more interest than their debut, and it marked the first time the band got to shoot a music video – for the title track. It also gave Xentrix the opportunity to tour with Skyclad and play shows with world famous metal bands such as Slayer and Sepultura. And rightfully so, as this album belongs in any headbanger’s collection.

For Whose Advantage? is available as a limited edition of 1500 individually numbered copies on translucent blue coloured vinyl.

Sometimes a record comes along that is a wonderful anomaly that really is all about the music. Silver Leaf recently appeared on the radar via obscuro diggers on both sides of the Atlantic and landed with a Hey!
What is known about Silver Leaf, beyond that it was a short-lived mid-80s project out of Cincinnati, Ohio, is that it features ex-Zephyr keyboardist John Faris, working alongside the mysterious vocalist Silvia Leaf.
The difference between the blues and occasional psychedelic rock of early 70s Boulder, Colorado's Zephyr and the lo-fi recordings of Silver Leaf are striking, but in Hey! and Can We Rebuild Our City?, the power of the ballad and strong playing of John, is wrapped in mid-80s, mid-States lo fi heaven.
Whether a non-de-plume, Ms Leaf's searing, innocent vocals fly above John's keys and programming. Hey!'s repetitive exhalations act like a mantra to a party, while tom's chime in accompaniment. Here it comes!
Can We Rebuild Our City? starts with Faris' forlorn intro before crashing percussion heads to some kind of wonderful, as Leaf questions a calls to hearts.
Releasing just 3 singles, Silver Leaf's music is unique and essential, an experience and a delight to present.

“You’re trouble” is an avant-garde electronic pop album about questioning and locating a sense of self in a disorienting, breaking environment of dissolving certainity which grows increasingly chaotic, about dysmorphic dissatisfaction, becoming disillusioned and alienated. It seeks to juxtapose beauty, serenity and vigour with instability, ugliness, chaos and crisis, expressing itself fluidly without genre or otherwise boundaries. A kind of sinister, anxious but still forward-pushing and at times positive and hot-blooded empowering energy can be felt that wants to urge the listener not to give up but to try and take courage and take control of the troubles and fears in their life. The tone is sometimes reflective, sometimes confronting. The album navigates fairly abstract musical territory, cathartic abrasiveness, heavy and unrelenting sounds of post-club music and noise fused with stretches of pop music, never settling down or resting for long, constantly breaking up and re-assembling itself. Between chaos and form, it’s finding relief in imperfection and the in-between. As such the music is ambivalent and is equal parts some kind of crisis club music as well as introspective reflection.
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It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

-LTD. LOSER EDITION-

This LIMITED LOSER INDIES edition is on GREY MARBLED Vinyl! It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.