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Within the nine carefully composed tracks of Young Bones, Mel D’s characteristic voice stands out in all its facets, varying from fragile to powerful, haunting to playful, but most of all soulful. With a voice that’s both extraordinarily clear and melancholic, Mel D is something surprisingly rare: a singer whose artistic expression goes beyond the mere use of her voice. On Young Bones, Mel D uses contemporary figures, rephrasing them into timeless formulas. Her unique musical language embodies references to genres like Indie or Alternative. In other moments, her sound leans baroque, then jazzy, soulful, and contemplative. Each song represents an ode to being connected: to the world, other people, and most of all to the beauty of music. Mel D draws her inspiration from struggles felt in the current world climate: “I have felt overwhelmed by the world we live in and its countless challenges,” said Mel D. “As if we’re all a bit directionless in our own lives.” Nevertheless, Mel D uses her musicality as a tool for resistance - using it to transform sadness and anger into creativity, and to give world-weariness a voice that seduces, comforts, and inspires. On Young Bones, Mel D sings us to a place where we might find hope - with songs rooted in concern, solidarity, humanness, and empowerment, inviting the listener to lean into those feelings. Bring the Witches Back, a hymn to witchcraft, is a quiet song that summons the return of witches with feminist urgency, for more love and magic to open ourselves towards each other and the world. Soft, a soulful song with a tender melody, gently lulls the listener into an in-between dimension, full of opportunities. Meanwhile, in the coming-of-age ballad, Slowly Growing, she raises questions about belonging and identity, pointing directly at our emotional core. Where Do You Look When It Hurts? speaks to the sensation of exhaustion and emptiness, offering musical warmth and a sense of community in moments of lethargy. Finally, listening to the album, one always feels in good company. Playfully working in folk and electro-pop elements, Mel D takes us on a ride toward love and a sense of belonging, particularly on the track We win. Young Bones was recorded in Zurich and Paris with two outstanding producers of our times: Renaud Letang, who has previously collaborated with Feist, Chilly Gonzales or Lianne La Havas, and Dino Brandão. The latter recognized Mel D’s artistic uniqueness during their first meeting, inviting her to a recording session in his studio and bringing her into the band of Swiss superstar, Faber. Mel D’s solo project was more a product of coincidence than planning, as she says, even though an undisputed talent and passion for music had always been apparent throughout her youth. During her studies in fine arts in Zurich, she founded the electronica-duo mischgewebe, and composed soundtracks for theater and movie productions, as well as for exhibitions. Long before forming her current artistic identity, she went by the nickname Mel D, in a humorous reference to the Spice Girls. Although her personality and musical language suggest thoughtfulness and a melancholy touch, Mel D acknowledges that an honest laugh is never out of place, making her sympathetic and approachable.

World Of Echo announces the reissue of two remastered albums by Japanese guitarist and songwriter Naoki Zushi, 1988’s Paradise, and 2005’s III. Two classics of Japanese psychedelia, both Paradise and III were originally released on Org Records, the imprint of Shinji Shibayama of acid-folk group Nagisa Ni Te, with whom Zushi has guested on second guitar for decades. Both intimate and expansive, rich with revelatory songwriting and blasted, sky-scouring guitar, these reissues return these albums to print for the first time since the 2000s. It’s the first time III has been officially released on vinyl, with an extra, previously unreleased track, “Under The June Moonlight.”

Recorded in Kyoto’s Townhouse Studios in mid 1987 and released in limited-to-500 vinyl pressing in 1988, Paradise emerged from a scene in Kansai, Japan that was embracing the idiosyncracies of 1970s singer-songwriters, the soaring solos of early seventies psychedelia, and the DIY impulse of 1980s post-punk. While Zushi’s musical history stretched back to the early eighties – he was a founding member of Jojo Hiroshige’s noise outfit Hijokaidan – he found his feet with groups like Hallelujahs, whose dream-pop collection Niku O Kuraite Chikai Wo Tateyo was recently reissued by Black Editions, and Idiot O’Clock.

Paradise appeared two years after that Hallelujahs album and share much the same membership – Zushi’s backing band on several of the songs includes Shibayama on drums and Ken-Ichi Takayama (aka Idiot) on electric guitar, though just as often, Zushi plays all the instruments himself. The coordinates here are wide-reaching – you can hear the volume and intensity of Neil Young & Crazy Horse (on “Hallelujah: Left Side” and “Paradise: Midday”), the slow-motion magic of Galaxie 500, the idiosyncratic spirit of The Only Ones, all mixed up with tender guitar miniatures and stumbling garage-psych-pop moves.

Seven years later, after the transitional album Phenomenal Luciferin, Zushi released III. Perhaps his masterpiece, it’s already been bootlegged on vinyl, but this reissue is the real deal. The album was recorded at Studio Nemu over seven years, and sees Zushi backed by Shibayama (bass) and Masako Takeda (drums), his erstwhile bandmates in Nagisa Ni Te. By this stage, Zushi had started to really stretch out, and many of the songs on III swoon languorously, taking their sweet time to say what they need to say. It’s rich with lovely, melancholy songs, in a similar realm to bandmates Nagisa Ni Te, of course, but you can also hear traces of everything from Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs, through seventies private press loner folk, to the slow-burn meanderings of the likes of early Low or Damon & Naomi.

When interviewed by Shibayama in the mid-nineties, Zushi said of Paradise, “it was a sort of collection of songs that had meant something to me up to that point… it was my paradise. I wanted to create paradise.” That’s something Zushi achieves on both of these albums – visionary Japanese psychedelia, en route to paradise. - Jon Dale







g Under The June Moonlight vinyl only bonus track

“'Lyceum' is a fountainhead of unqualified greatness. It’s a strange, sad sound harking back to old school tunesmanship – Aztec Camera, ‘Rattlesnakes’, prime-time Felt – but the whole affair is permeated with a resonant, almost tearful quality. ‘Lyceum’ is reminiscent of Galaxie 500’s ‘Today’ in that it sounds like it cost less than a round of drinks to produce. But the lo fi sound merely enhances the misty glazed-pop sound and raises the hallelujah choruses to the forefront. Rather than drowning them in production mush. Don’t pass it by”.
– Bob Stanley, Melody Maker 1989
Hailing from the suburbs of Glasgow, this five-piece are best known for their three starry-eyed albums on the renowned Sarah Records - this being an expanded version of their first (an eight-track 10” at the time).
By the tail end of the 1980s the independent music scene in the UK was turning its back on the polish and over-indulgence of the mid-80s with its gated drums and wallpaper production. And those who weren’t stretching the boundaries of sonic innovation had tuned back to the post-punk ethos of ramshackle charm and zealous melody, even dousing the spirit with some political fervour once more. Influences were more likely to be Television and the Television Personalities than MTV.
The Orchids and The Sea Urchins were the first two bands to release 7” singles on the Sarah label having previously begun their recording existence on a shared flexi disc in 1987 (The Sea Urchins went on to become Delta, whose classic album ‘Slippin' Out’ from 2000 will be the second release on Circuitry). The Scottish five-piece released ‘I’ve Got a Habit’ and ‘Underneath the Window, Underneath the Sink’ as EPs before really finding their feet with ‘Lyceum’; the tracks, remastered from the original Toad Hall tapes are included on this reissue as are the three songs from the ‘What Will We Do Next?’ 7” (this collection closes with the frazzled stretch that is ‘Yawn’). 'Lyceum' was originally released in August 1989.
The album opens with ‘It’s Only Obvious’ and its gloriously youthful chorus of “who needs tomorrow when all I need, all I needed was you”. James Hackett somehow appears both forthright and rejected, something that one of their musical heroes The Go-Betweens also had down to a fine art. It barely takes a breath until midway through side two where ‘Hold On’ (sounding suspiciously like an unlikely objective) descends into the intro of ‘Blue Light’, the counted-in ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ whispered like the most hopelessly dejected rally. If that sounds depressing it isn’t. This record by The Orchids was a spirited source of comfort for an 18 year old at the time and still shudders with the best type of melancholy, one that’s spirited not indulgent. If you’re not familiar with the band’s charm, this is where you should begin.
'Lyceum' is released on double black vinyl by new label Circuitry.

Japan’s electronic music scene has always stood out as uniquely distinctive. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, a wave of underground projects, bands, and independent labels—primarily based in Tokyo and Osaka—began crafting their own sound. Inspired by the post-punk, new wave, and experimental movements emerging from Europe and North America, these artists embraced a DIY ethic, using whatever technology they had access to in order to forge something entirely their own.

This movement, often referred to as the "Nippon-wave" scene, remained largely hidden from the outside world. Many of its releases—on cassette tapes, flexi-discs, and privately pressed vinyl—were never distributed beyond Japan’s borders, making them rare treasures for the few who managed to discover them. “Nihon No Wave” presents a selection of these long-overlooked recordings, making them accessible to listeners beyond Japan for the first time.

After the success of the first volume, “Nihon No Wave 2” continues to unearth the hidden history of Japan’s underground electronic scene from the ’80s. This second installment digs even deeper into the archives, showcasing more rare tracks from obscure artists who operated on the fringes of Japan’s independent music world.

Like its predecessor, “Nihon No Wave 2” captures the raw energy and experimental spirit of the "Nippon-wave" era—where lo-fi synths, minimal rhythms, and post-punk aesthetics converged into a uniquely Japanese take on global sounds. Many of these recordings, originally released on cassette compilations or small-run vinyl with no international reach, have remained virtually unknown outside Japan.

**ON LTD SPLATTER VINYL** First time available on vinyl! With bonus tracks and unreleased material! The Sultans formed in 2000 and were John Reis / Slasher and Tony DiPrima and at times also Andy Stamets / Black Flame (Rocket From The Crypt’s ND) and Dean Reis / Black Velvet (Mannequin Piss, Spider Fever, The Heartaches, Los Dug Dugs). Shipwrecked was the bands second album and was released only on CD in 2004.

It was hailed as a “power-pop meets ’70s punk classic” by Virtual Underground Press and “…a masterpiece of the form...essential” by the Cleveland Call And Post. This reissue is a labor of lust with maximum attention to detail in resurrecting these masters from their deteriorated, analog state. The result is a louder, thicker and even more bristling slab of triumphant rock ’n’ roll. Everything on this reissue cuts deeper and breaks the digital glass into razor sharp shards and then shits on the 1s and 0s. Treble Magazine says. “It is the perfect soundtrack to your post-breakup life: fourteen songs about heartache, shame, trying to move on, regrets and just plain old hate. (And by the by, hate has never sounded as good as this)”. Added to the original are four bonus tracks, one being a cover of The Dils “Blow Up” and another the never released “Out Of Focus”. Shipwrecked was the last record at Drag Racist (Hot Snakes, RFTC, etc) before it shuddered its doors for good.

Nu-hardcore quintet, Bodyweb, are the sound of someone’s nervous system on the verge of breakdown—hyperactive, tormented and unflinchingly vulnerable. Born out of the Leeds hardcore scene, they’re a shape-shifting alloy of jagged emotion and precision chaos. What began as late-night jams between Louis Hardy (Higher Power, Big Cheese, Fate) and Ben Jones (Pest Control) eventually mutated into train_wreck_simulation, a debut EP filled with frantic breakdowns and nu-metal swag that felt like the soundtrack to a digital exorcism. The final piece of the puzzle came from Hardy’s estranged childhood friend, pq. His twisted samples and synthetic textures are haunted and disturbed, injecting cyberpunk soul into hardcore flesh. Contorting through several iterations in the following years, the band absorbed Luke Thompson (Stiff Meds) on drums, filmmaker Tom Hobson on guitar and Naomi Macleod (Empire State Bastard) on bass, and laid down their first collective offering. deadwired is due out on Flatspot Records later this year. Bodyweb's second EP is a violent thesis on connection and pain that sends Hardy’s unfiltered vocals through heaven and hell. Four overstimulating tracks run a gamut of styles and influences from Slipknot to Björk, constantly lane-switching between dizzying heaviness, ambient soundscapes and brain-burrowing hooks. Entirely self-produced, deadwired upgrades the sonic formula laid down on the last record and raises the question: what else could exist in Bodyweb’s twisted roadmap? Nothing seems impossible. What seems important, however, is retaining the rawness in a style that can often turn sterile. “We still wanted it to sound very human. It had to be well produced but not cold and lifeless.” shares Hardy. “We didn’t use a click track. All guitars were real amps with microphones. We tried to make everything as real and raw as possible, we recorded using all the same gear we use when playing live too to really capture the energy of how it feels when we jam together." ‘Deadwired’ is a snapshot of violent implosion. Four ADHD-fuelled transmissions from the edge of spiritual collapse. It drags metallic hardcore through glitched-out ambience to confront ego death, generational trauma, and the violence of being alive. On stage, Bodyweb don’t just perform, they purge. Raucous live electronics meld with digitally contorted guitars. Breakbeats meet breakdowns—no backing track in sight. Bodyweb enable a collective catharsis. Mosh, dance, dive, scream, heal. A physical therapy session screamed into the void.

Pickle Darling has always existed just outside of the periphery. In a heightened time of fast music, algorithmic consumption and rapid virality, Lukas Mayo (they/them) has remained focused on the album. Their discography is a reflection of their creative evolution, and they deliberately look for ways to push sonic boundaries from release to release. Since debuting with Bigness in 2019 followed by Cosmonaut in 2021, Mayo has curated a catalog that is deeply personal and strangely tactile, where tiny, unexpected details_an off-kilter loop, a whispered aside, the warmth of an old Casio_become as crucial as melody itself. Their 2023 LP Laundromat was a precise and polished expansion of that world, a record that felt like it had been carefully placed behind glass. Their forthcoming fourth album, Battlebots, by contrast, is unruly and full of static: a collection of songs that feel like they could only ever exist on scratched CD-Rs passed between friends. Self-recorded in their home studio in Christchurch, New Zealand, it finds Mayo taking a scalpel to their own songwriting. Songs were stretched, chopped, reversed. Some ideas started as "unlistenable garbage" before morphing into something unexpectedly beautiful. If a song felt too straightforward, Mayo had to mess it up. That friction of old and new, organic and digital, melody and noise is what drives Battlebots. Drawing inspiration from a strange, scattered lineage: Four Tet's Rounds, The Books, Neneh Cherry's Broken Politics, The Wrens' Three types of reading ambiguity, but also the emotional directness of 2000s pop like Madonna's Ray of Light and Robyn's Body Talk, the result is an album that feels like a glitch in the system, pushing against past constraints while embracing the weird, beautiful mess of making something new.

Seit ihrem ersten Demo 2013 haben INSTITUTE, die ursprünglich aus Austin stammen, ihren rauen Anarcho-Punk zu etwas Weitgreifenderem und Nuancierterem geschliffen. Die ,Salt EP" aus dem Jahr 2014 stellte den Beginn der Zusammenarbeit der Band mit Sacred Bones dar und ergründete längere, experimentellere Songstrukturen. ,Catharsis", das Debütalbum der Band, war ein weiterer großer Schritt vorwärts - mit einer etwas klareren Produktion und einigen Krautrock-Einflüssen. Weiter und weiter schieben sie sich selbst aus jeglichem Genre, indem sie Hard Rock und Glam mit in ihr Spektrum aufnehmen und so das bisher abwechslungsreichste Material ihrer Karriere auf Subordination veröffentlichen.

"Kein Hinterfragen, kein Überdenken. Ich möchte mein Leben so leben, dass ich die Dinge tue, die mir wichtig sind, und ich denke, dass jeder so leben sollte", sagt Mei Semones über ihr gestärktes Selbstvertrauen. Die 24-jährige Songwriterin und Gitarristin aus Brooklyn hat sich durch die kontinuierliche Verfeinerung ihrer unverwechselbaren Mischung aus Indierock, Bossa Nova, Jazz und Kammerpop, die ihre technischen Fähigkeiten auf der Gitarre unterstreicht, schnell als innovative musikalische Kraft etabliert. Seit der Veröffentlichung ihrer hochgelobten "Kabutomushi"-EP im Jahr 2024, einer Reihe von üppig instrumentierten Reflexionen über die Liebe in ihren vielen Phasen, ist Mei ausgiebig durch die USA getourt, hat sich dort eine treue Fangemeinde aufgebaut und ihr mit Spannung erwartetes Debütalbum "Animaru" geschrieben und aufgenommen. Animaru bedeutet ,Tier' auf Japanisch und ist die Verkörperung von Meis tieferem Vertrauen in ihre Instinkte - eine Sammlung von musikalisch beeindruckenden Tracks, die Mei abenteuerlicher, verletzlicher und selbstbewusster klingen lassen als je zuvor. Meis neues Selbstbewusstsein ist zum Teil auf die Erfahrungen des vergangenen Jahres zurückzuführen, denn 2024 war ein Jahr der Veränderung für die Band Mei Semones. Sie traten unter anderem mit Liana Flores, Elephant Gym und Kara Jackson auf, und Mei ging dazu über, Vollzeit Musik zu machen. Inmitten der häufigen Tourneen nahmen Mei und ihre fünfköpfige Band das Album im Sommer 2024 in der Ashlawn Recording Company auf, einem Farmstudio in Connecticut, das von ihrem Freund Charles Dahlke betrieben wird. Zu diesen Sessions brachte sie eine Reihe von Stücken mit, die, nicht anders als Kabutomushi, raffinierte Erklärungen einer nicht-romantischen Liebe sind: Liebe zum Leben ("Dumb Feeling"), Liebe zur Familie ("Zarigani"), Liebe zur Musik und zu ihrer Gitarre ("Tora Moyo"). Animaru veranschaulicht Meis bezaubernde Bandbreite als Songwriterin und Musikerin und enthält einige der anspruchsvollsten und einfachsten Lieder, die Mei je geschrieben hat. Die schlichteren Momente auf Animaru sind ebenso fesselnd wie wenn Mei auf der Gitarre schreddert oder ihre Bandkollegen ein kompliziertes Arrangement ausführen. "Donguri", eine reduzierte Jazz-Duo-Performance zwischen Akustikgitarre und Kontrabass, ist der einfachste Song, den Mei je geschrieben hat. Er wird von Mei zum Leben erweckt, indem sie auf süße Weise (meist auf Japanisch) beschreibt, wie sie sich das Leben als Waldbewohner vorstellt. Das vorletzte Stück des Albums, das helle, spritzige "Zarigani", ist eine nostalgische Liebeserklärung an ihre Zwillingsschwester, in der Mei singt: "We'll always have each other / I love you like my guitar / I love you like no other". Obwohl "Animaru" ein Statement für Meis Autonomie und Selbstvertrauen an diesem Punkt in ihrem Leben ist, sind es die verschiedenen Lieben, mit denen sie sich umgibt - ihre Familie, ihre Freunde, ihre Band, ihre Musik - die sie dazu befähigen, Dinge zu tun, die sie sich wünscht.

The latest by Andrew Clinco's acid punk alias VR SEX takes its title from an architectural phrase but more importantly refers to the warped, wicked underworld the songs both chronicle and condemn. Donning the moniker Noel Skum - an acerbic anagram of Elon Musk - Clinco vents his scorn for and fascination with the seedy, surreal margins of low-life Los Angeles, doomed to dead ends of vanity, lust, and technology. Although initially launched as an outlet for "heavier sounds" beyond Clinco's duties in new wave fantasists Drab Majesty, the project has ripened into a compelling exercise in world building, weaving themes of gritty city neofuturist sleaze within a framework of driving, distorted guitars and cathode-blasted synths. Echoes of Chrome, Wire, Minimal Man, and Sisters Of Mercy ripple through the collection but ultimately Rough Dimension charts its own twisted vision of "our unforgiving reality." Written and demoed across two weeks alone in a Marseille flat using his prized 1980's Gibson "Invader" and a laptop, Clinco then took the tracks to Strange Weather studios in Brooklyn to record with Ben Greenberg (Uniform, The Men) who helmed 2019's debut, Human Traffic Jam. The results are notably ripping, refined, and riveting. Riffs in alternate tunings chug and churn over mid-tempo drums punctuated by spikes of sci-fi electronics while the vocals swagger and spit venom ("where we walk is also where we shit / but if we bark at our reflections are we hypocrites? / impulses bleed right into our seed / where hate culminates the apple rotted on the tree"). It's a bristling mix of the melodic and the macabre, absurdist observations of fast living and desperate measures, the clock of youth ticking towards midnight as dreams unravel in Babylon. VR SEX's specialty is making these cautionary tales of psychic decay and tainted love a thrill rather than a drag. There's a sunglasses at night glamor to Clinco's choruses and solos, a wit to his black leather judgements ("what is the answer / to cancerous people / walking in my line of sight?"). The music's milieu tends towards parasites and predators but its mood skews refreshingly accelerated and amused, cruising the strip with a cigarette, watching goths and limousines crawl in gridlock beneath digital billboards. The Rough Dimension may be a cesspool, but it's home.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

Gastr del Sol"s second album returns at last to the vinyl format - its first physical manifestation in well over a decade. Once again, a drop of the needle may ignite any number of queries, summed simply in one: What IS this music? Such is the potent energy of Crookt, Crackt, or Fly, retaining its otherworldly qualities some 32 years and countless musical movements since. Crookt, Crackt, or Fly expands upon The Serpentine Similar"s minimalist stance in unexpected ways, imposing further austerity in the soundscape but for an unpredictable expansive quantity periodically overflowing, waves of blood sluicing through the elevator doors. This is partially due to a change within the group dynamic: the departure of bassist Ken "Bundy" Brown and the arrival of a new partner for guitarist and singer David Grubbs - guitarist and sound fuckerer Jim O"Rourke. O"Rourke"s initial work with Gastr involved editing and recomposing recordings of the Grubbs-Brown-&-sometimes-John-McEntire lineup, producing an utterly outré collage of cut-ups and other types of tape processing. This became the "20 Songs Less" single, after which he was invited to play with the group. It was a time of flux; Brown recalls playing a Gastr show at the Metro around this time featuring himself, John McEntire, Grubbs and O"Rourke - and one of the pieces played was a Tortoise song! Throughout these shifts, Gastr del Sol"s music was never less than fully considered and composed, even in moments redolent with the suggestion of the random and the non-sequitur. Grubbs and O"Rourke made no attempt to replicate Serpentine"s arrangement of thick, scaly drones and hypnotic song-visions in their own partnership, finding Crookt, Crackt,"s sound instead in spiny, gamelan-like interactions between their (mostly acoustic) guitars, played precisely in and out of formation with bright, fleet-fingered abandon. O"Rourke"s fondness for field recordings and his capacity for tape manipulation intersected with Grubbs" sensibilities, edifying his evolving song style: written with increased sharpness and sly surreal humor, sung closer to silence. Halfway into "Work from Smoke", the sudden collapse of the sound-walls around us signals Crookt, Crackt"s major departure. From the thicket of guitars, a swell of drones and free-jazz squeals, made up of bass clarinet, vibraphone and organ, pulls the listener into an entirely other acoustic space. "Every Five Miles" derails in similarly tactile fashion: a guitar duet boils up thunderously, then fragments and spirals apart. As a free electric guitar part crops up, improbably holding the center, the acoustic space around it continues to disintegrate in ambient stereo. A wedding of folk music idioms to classical, improvised and modern compositional modes (including Gastr"s own formative post-punk mode), Crookt, Crackt, or Fly is a song-based reality steadily giving way to its alternative alchemies playing out within.

Die Gang aus Stockton-on-Tees ist zurück, denn es gibt noch so viel zu erledigen. Mit "Anchorage" veröffentlichen YOUNG REBEL SET ihren ersten neuen Song seit 2013, und veröffentlichen im September 2025 die "Sun" EP an - die erste Veröffentlichung der britischen Indie-Pub-Rocker seit dem Tod ihres Sänger Matty Chipchase im Dezember 2019. Doch "Anchorage" ist mehr als nur ein Comeback-Song, er ist ein Stück Geschichte. Geschrieben wurde der Song bereits 2012, während der Arbeiten am zweiten Album "Crocodile". Live gespielt wurde er damals in Originalbesetzung bereits, doch nun, über zehn Jahre später, wurde er auch aufgenommen. Und zwar in den legendären Abbey Road Studios in London - erstmals steht Sänger Tom Blackwell am Mikrofon. Seine Stimme bringt eine raue Wärme in den Sound der Band, der Matty Chipchase Respekt entgegnet, ohne zu versuchen, ihn zu imitieren.

Lanie Gardner, von der RIAA als „Artist to Watch“ bezeichnet und mit Bands wie den Jonas Brothers
oder Jelly Roll auf Tournee gewesen, steigert mit ihrem kommenden 18 Titel umfassenden Album „Faded
Polaroids“ die Lautstärke und die Vorfreude – ein genreübergreifendes Meisterwerk, das ihre künstlerische
Stimme definieren wird. Voller dynamischer Energie und emotionaler Tiefe verspricht das zweite Projekt,
das die lebendigen Grooves ihrer Sommer-EP „Polaroids“ enthält, eine kaleidoskopische Klangreise. Durch
die Verschmelzung der rauen Seele des Blues, des erzählerischen Herzens des Country, der Härte des Rock
und des verträumten Pulsierens des Pop hat jeder Track seine eigene Identität – manche intim und rau wie
„Concrete Cowboy“, andere mutig und filmisch wie „The Hill Have Eyes“ – und Gardners charakteristischer
samtweicher Gesang führt die Zuhörer durch Themen wie Sehnsucht, Widerstandskraft und Selbstfindung.
Einflüsse von Fleetwood Mac bis Chris Stapleton schimmern durch das gesamte Album, überlagert mit
unerwarteten Wendungen und üppigen Klangtexturen. „Faded Polaroids“ erscheint am 5. September und
ist ihr bisher ehrgeizigstes und eindringlichstes Projekt – ein Album, das Genregrenzen nicht nur niederreißt,
sondern sie durch furchtlose Kreativität implodieren lässt.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

Nicolás Ibarburu is a prominent figure in Uruguayan music. Renowned for his exceptional guitar skills since his teenage years, he has also established himself as a talented songwriter. In La Ruta de la Seda, he showcases a unique blend of personal songwriting, Latin fusion rhythms, pop sensibility, and deep-rooted Uruguayan musical influences. From his teenage years, Nicolás Ibarburu has become a prominent figure in Uruguayan music. Renowned for his exceptional guitar skills, he quickly gained recognition, performing alongside his brothers, Martín and Andrés, in various projects. Ibarburu's mastery of the guitar has led to collaborations with legendary figures from both Argentina and Uruguay, including the iconic Luis Alberto Spinetta, Jaime Roos, Fito Páez, and Rubén Rada. As his career evolved, Ibarburu expanded his influence beyond performance, establishing himself as a talented songwriter with a captivating solo career. His latest album, La Ruta de la Seda, showcases his unique blend of personal songwriting, Latin fusionrhythms, pop sensibility, and deeprooted Uruguayan musical influences. With his signature guitar sound and lyrics that explore the magic of artistic creation and the poetic depths of the subconscious, Ibarburu continues to push the boundaries of his artistry.

Established in 2022, Warm Exit is a post-punk quartet hailing from Brussels, Belgium. Their violently frontal music is an explosive blend of sonic intensity that sets them apart as one of the country's most electrifying and raucous acts. Drawing inspiration from Krautrock, Punk, and Noise, their relentless rhythmic prowess is a testament to their diverse influences. Channeling the spirit of iconic 1970s bands like Wire, The Fall, and Public Image Limited, Warm Exit ventures into the shadowy realm of post-punk with their latest EP. Here, they seamlessly oscillate between fast and slow tempos, high and low energy levels, and vocals that span from tense whispers to unbridled screams. This journey takes the listener through a landscape of discordant riffs, haunting groans, evocative spoken word passages, and industrial undertones. Over the past three years, Warm Exit has cultivated a devoted following both locally and internationally, thanks to their electrifying live performances that leave audiences in awe. Carrying the reputation of a striking live band, they are eager to storm the stage at any and every given opportunity.

Bendik Giske’s Beatrice Dillon-produced 2023 album gets an addendum with reworks from Carmen Villain, aya, Hanne Lippard, Hieroglyphic Being, Wacław Zimpel and Dillon herself.

Giske’s clearly got his ear to the ground; his last remix record was an invitation for Laurel Halo to put her stamp on »Cruising«, while 2018’s »Adjust EP« roped in Deathprod, Total Freedom, Lotic, and Rezzett. Now comes this new LP of remixes and it’s one of the best we’ve heard in aeons. Carmen Villain boots things off with a remix of »Slipping«, following her excellent (and way, way too underrated) »Nutrition EP« with a giddy, subtle roller that sounds as if it’s been constructed using only Giske’s raw stems. His breaths and leathery key presses – already amped up by Dillon’s detailed recording – are magicked into a dubby concrète groove that’s enhanced with the sparest melodic elements: echoing rainforest-at-night horn blasts, and lopped off decay trails that help fuel the momentum.

aya’s revision of the same track takes a different approach, forming forceful overlapping polyrhythms from Giske’s clanks, using the gamelan-like arpeggios for melodic weight and repetition. The result is a constantly shifting, hypnotic trancer that’s achingly organic – more Raja Kirik than Paul Van Dyke. Polish clarinetist and producer Wacław Zimpel, meanwhile, supplements his trippy recent collaboration with James Holden on a similarly levitational wrinkle of »Slipping« that twists Giske’s quivering sequences with microtonal synth prangs, and gusty echoes. But it’s Jamal Moss who plays fastest and loosest with Giske’s source material, calling back to April’s psy-house stunner »Dance Music 4 Bad People« with a powdery, sexualised banger that buries the breathy »Start« stems underneath neon synths, and brittle drum loops.

»I’m a digital nomad,« Lippard deadpans over Giske’s »Not Yet«. »I’m addicted you know that.« It’s a typically dry treatment from the conceptual artist that unexpectedly amps up the hypnotic qualities of Giske’s original, adding her circuitous charm to his concertina-ing sax sequences. And to tie things up perfectly, Beatrice Dillon returns with her diaphanous remix of »Rise and Fall«, built to emphasise the radically different approaches of each artist.

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth