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ORKA is a duo comprising Francine Perry from London and Jens L. Thomsen from the Faroe Islands. They crossed paths in the vibrant club scene of London, an immersive world that had a profound impact on their creative journey. ORKA's music draws inspiration from the Hardcore Continuum and UK sound system culture, blending it with elements of minimal techno, progressive electro, and ambient music, resulting in a diverse range of stylistic influences. Now ORKA emerges with their long-awaited new album. Once again, they greet us with their distinct blend of earthy tones and a bold, adventurous spirit, taking us to a realm bursting with neon-lit hues, pulsating club beats, and an abundance of sensory stimulation. Aptly named "All At Once," the album title provides a clue to the auditory and sensory experience that awaits the listener in this immersive record. ORKA has continuously evolved as a project over many years and iterations, embracing fluidity and a relentless quest for fresh sonic amalgamations. Their journey has been marked by a gradual refinement, stripping away layers to reach the core essentials. This transformative process has unfolded over the years, reaching from their site-specific, cowshed sampling and band-based expedition in "Livandi oyða" (2007) to the bold, innovative exploration of minimalist techno in "Vað" (2016). However, their latest release, "All At Once," signifies yet another remarkable leap forward in their artistic evolution. The seeds of this artistic progression were already planted in previous releases like the <13 EP (2017) and the hard-hitting techno single "Juno" (2018). However, it is with the arrival of the album "All At Once" that ORKA's vision fully blossoms, unveiling a vivid and expansive sonic landscape. This latest offering presents a glorious and vibrant tapestry, showcasing a maximalist approach to techno that pulsates with energy coupled with their signature meticulous attention to sound design, reflecting a deep awareness and intentionality in their creative process. If this album was to be thought of as a place, it would be a shimmering, futuristic, buzzing kind of city with vibrating night-time drizzle from above and endless glowing lights in the distance. Several of the tracks are built around cut-up vocal samples that are divided from their semiotic meanings and reconfigured as loops, and thus mined for their timbral and percussive qualities. Recurring collaborators South London duo LV (Hyperdub, Keysound, Brownswood) are featured on a handful of these tracks, mixing in their complex cocktail of grime and bliss. The result is a sort of queer erotic dance-floor mysticism, and the closest to a full-blown dance record that ORKA have ever made. There must be a club in that shimmering futurist city of the night.. and it is a collective, inclusive and alluring place. There is no need to fear any dancefloor exhaustion by listening to this album though, as there are also moments of floating cyber beauty and pure enveloping warmth to be found among its tracks. As always, following the artistic journey of ORKA is a joyous experience, filled with unexpected twists and turns that keep us captivated.

Wegene is now available in a limited edition metallic grey pressing. Ayalew Mesfin stands aside the likes of Mulatu Astake, Mahmoud Ahmed, Hailu Mergia and Alemayehu Eshete as a legend of 1970s Ethiopia. Mesfin’s music is some of the funkiest to arise from this unconquerable East African nation. Mesfin’s recording career, captured in nearly two dozen 7” singles and numerous reel-to-reel tapes, shows the strata of the most fertile decade in Ethiopia’s 20th century recording industry, when records were pressed constantly by both independent upstarts and corporate behemoths, even if they were only distributed within the confines of this East African nation. Though Mesfin was forced underground by the Derg regime that took control of Ethiopia in 1974, he has returned almost 50 years later with this triumphant set albums – the first time that his music has been presented in this form. These albums give us a chance to discover a rare and beautiful moment in music history, in anthologies built from Mesfin’s uber-rare 7” single releases and from previously unreleased recordings taken from master tapes. Wegene gives us a chance to discover a rare & beautiful moment in music history, in an anthology built from his uber-rare 7” single releases. Contains an oversized 11” x 11” 16 page book that tells the story of modern Ethiopian music and Mesfin’s role within it.

Let Me Die Loved is now available in a limited edition white vinyl pressing. Vinyl contains an oversized 11” x 11” 16 page book that tells the story of modern Ethiopian music and Mesfin’s role within it. Ayalew Mesfin stands aside the likes of Mulatu Astake, Mahmoud Ahmed, Hailu Mergia and Alemayehu Eshete as a legend of 1970s Ethiopia. Mesfin’s music is some of the funkiest to arise from this unconquerable East African nation. Mesfin’s recording career, captured in nearly two dozen 7” singles and numerous reel-to-reel tapes, shows the strata of the most fertile decade in Ethiopia’s 20th century recording industry, when records were pressed constantly by both independent upstarts and corporate behemoths, even if they were only distributed within the confines of this East African nation. Though Mesfin was forced underground by the Derg regime that took control of Ethiopia in 1974, he has returned almost 50 years later with this triumphant set albums – the first time that his music has been presented in this form. These albums give us a chance to discover a rare and beautiful moment in music history, in anthologies built from Mesfin’s uber-rare 7” single releases and from previously unreleased recordings taken from master tapes. Tewedije Limut gives us a chance to discover a rare & beautiful moment in music history, in an anthology built from his uber-rare 7” single releases.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce its first release from celebrated London-based Canadian composer Cassandra Miller. Though her body of mature work stretches back almost twenty years, many listeners were introduced to Miller through the success of her astonishing 2015 Duet for Cello and Orchestra, which sets an imperturbable two-note cello part against a series of increasingly dense orchestrations of an Italian folk melody; in 2019, it was selected by The Guardian as one of the ‘best classical music works of the 21st century’. Traveller Song / Thanksong, the first release of her music on vinyl, presents a pair of compositions for voice and ensemble that exemplify Miller’s gently absurd, strikingly beautiful, and utterly unique work.

Like many of Miller’s compositions, these pieces originate in existing music. Traveller Song (2016/2018) begins from a 1950s song of an anonymous Sicilian cart driver recorded by Alan Lomax and Diego Carpitella, which Miller recorded herself singing along to, going on to then record herself singing to her own layered voices. Miller’s untutored voice is an unsteady, wavering wail that has, in her words, ‘more in common with a quasi-shamanistic keening than anything Sicilian’. Heard sometimes alone, sometimes layered, her pre-recorded voice is accompanied by a chamber sextet drawn from London’s Plus-Minus Ensemble. In the first section, Miller’s exposed warble is set to a spare piano accompaniment, somehow both faintly preposterous and magisterial. Following the voice note for note, the piano part often makes use of almost mechanical sequences of parallel chords, reminiscent both of Satie’s Rosicrucian period and the abrupt harmonic movements of a chord organ. The orchestration then opens up to guitar, clarinet, and sliding strings, a delicate environment for Miller’s voice, which, especially when it begins to be layered, generates a powerful sense of intimacy. In its concluding minutes, the folk roots of the original melody return in the form of a glorious full ensemble setting dominated by accordion, clarinet, and strummed guitar. Thanksong begins from recordings of Miller singing along to the third movement of Beethoven’s late quartet in A minor (Op. 132), the ‘holy song of thanks’ the composer wrote to express his gratitude for (temporarily) recovering from illness. Recording herself singing along repeatedly to each of the individual parts of the quartet, Miller created an aural score where each member of the string quartet listens to their own part on headphones, playing by ear. Performed on this recording by Montreal's Quatuor Bozzini, with whom Miller has a decades-long relationship, they are joined by the British soprano Juliet Fraser, who sings material from the Beethoven quartet ‘as slowly and quietly as possible’. The atmosphere of the opening of Beethoven’s Dankgesang, of hushed reawakening and thoughtful reflection, is sustained throughout the fourteen minutes of Miller’s piece, building at points almost to sentimentality before the five individual parts again fall back into a gentle burble of unsynchronised melodic gestures. Like Traveller Song, here the use of the voice is a long way from the mannered performance of much contemporary music, reaching for a human and bodily presence more connected to the reality of the everyday, albeit suffused with wonder. Presented in a stylish sleeve adorned with photography by Lasse Marhaug and liner notes by Cassandra Miller, this is a key release from a major contemporary composer whose work challenges and dazzles in equal measure. .

The album features 15 tracks, showcasing Bastien’s truly cinematic sound while exploring new sonic territories. The album touches on the melancholic funk drifting between voiceovers of longing and hurt, through surreal, hallucinogenic folk ballads. It’s the juxtaposition of these genres sewn together with ambient synth skits that really makes the album a musical journey. Playful and serious, as the album title suggests, Bastien manages to induce a rye smile with a tear in the eye.


In Seb’s words, “The album tells the story of a failed relationship, as the man narrators missing his other. Whilst he imagines her comforting him, before accepting the end of the relationship, and feeling that the love he feels, she never did.”

Sharing common ground with luminaries such as David Axlerod, Kate Bush, Roy Orbison, Madlib and The Delfonics; Keb plays guitar, trumpet, bass, drums, piano, flute and more Keb’s writing and recording approach is slightly unique. He explains a little about how his records sound the way they do...

“I have a lo-fi approach to recording, for me it’s about the moment, all my records are time capsules of a certain time in my life, so the sound of the recording is secondary. It’s all about heart, that’s all I’m interested in. If I get a melody I have to record it asap, if the mic isn’t plugged in I use the macbook mic, if I’m not by the computer I’ll record into my phone.

For me personally using/sampling other peoples music isn’t making your own music, using your own soul, showing your own heart, it's just my personal opinion. It’s not right for me. No slur on those that do. If there are any samples on my records, it’s me sampling me. For me, this means the music is mine. It’s ‘of me’. That’s really important for me, because I feel that’s where the honesty is. If my music sounds ‘dusty’, that’s why”.

This approach provides us with a wonderfully inclusive record. The album feels almost ‘performed’ to us, live, on each listen. Coupled with Bastien’s capacity to write music which is almost visual, the album is quite enveloping.

Bastien returns to Def Pressé with this new album after the brilliant, Holy Mountain. Released under the name Grandamme, with friend and collaborator Claudia Kane.

Sometimes, Mitski says, it feels like life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what's truly hers, what can't be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. "The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people," Mitski says. "I wish I could leave behind all the love I have, after I die, so that I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I've created onto other people." She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will continue to shine that love long after she's gone. Listening to it, that's precisely how it feels: like a love that's haunting the land. "This is my most American album," Mitski says about her seventh record, and the music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. In this album, which is sonically Mitski's most expansive, epic, and wise, the songs seem to be introducing wounds and then actively healing them. Here, love is time- traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star. The album is full of the ache of the grown- up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It's a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything, and everyone, is crying out, screaming in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning us and then rejecting us. To love this place _ this earth, this America, this body _ takes active work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Sometimes, Mitski says, it feels like life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what's truly hers, what can't be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. "The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people," Mitski says. "I wish I could leave behind all the love I have, after I die, so that I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I've created onto other people." She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will continue to shine that love long after she's gone. Listening to it, that's precisely how it feels: like a love that's haunting the land. "This is my most American album," Mitski says about her seventh record, and the music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. In this album, which is sonically Mitski's most expansive, epic, and wise, the songs seem to be introducing wounds and then actively healing them. Here, love is time- traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star. The album is full of the ache of the grown- up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It's a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything, and everyone, is crying out, screaming in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning us and then rejecting us. To love this place _ this earth, this America, this body _ takes active work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Sometimes, Mitski says, it feels like life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what's truly hers, what can't be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. "The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people," Mitski says. "I wish I could leave behind all the love I have, after I die, so that I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I've created onto other people." She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will continue to shine that love long after she's gone. Listening to it, that's precisely how it feels: like a love that's haunting the land. "This is my most American album," Mitski says about her seventh record, and the music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. In this album, which is sonically Mitski's most expansive, epic, and wise, the songs seem to be introducing wounds and then actively healing them. Here, love is time- traveling to bless our tender days, like the light from a distant star. The album is full of the ache of the grown- up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It's a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything, and everyone, is crying out, screaming in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning us and then rejecting us. To love this place _ this earth, this America, this body _ takes active work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

There was a certain curiosity about Lewis Fautzi's next step with us. Despite his own personal style, we couldn't imagine that he would choose to release a new atmospheric and experimental album.

The result is absolutely stunning.

'Manner of Death' was produced during one of the worst moments of his life and the feelings he put into it are not relatable for most of us but yet understandable. Besides all this there aren't enough words we can write about it.

All we can do is be thankful for such a masterpiece!

"If you can imagine a love child between MAC DEMARCO and SPAR-KLEHORSE, then this would be what you're left with." - SO YOUNG MAGA-ZINE
Raised in North Queensland, Australia, Jarrod Mahon is not one to shy away from bold new endeavors. Once parting ways with his previous record label in 2019, Mahon chose to go fully independent, relocating to Berlin in 2019 (where he still resides), despite having no contacts at all in the country. What’s more, having recorded/performed under the pseudonym Emerson Snowe for over a decade - during which time he home-recorded five albums and 13 EP’s, toured with the likes of King Krule or Ariel Pink, played showcases SXSW and the Great Escape, the works - Mahon took that brave, most uncommercial decision to release under his own name and start almost totally anew.
“There was never really a concept to that name Emerson Snowe other than having some kind of separation from who I was as a person,” Mahon explains, “using a moniker gave me that confidence to push myself further mentally and to give myself some kind of a freedom”. And through the process of creating what would become his debut album, Mahon saw that he had outgrown the need for this protective persona. ‘Everything Has A Life’ was meant to be the debut Snowe album”, he admits, “but after I finished mixing it with Syd Kemp, co-producer I realized that I had actually grown a lot and was much more comfort-able with who I am and what my personal beliefs are.”
The choice of ‘Everything Has A Life’ as the album title, pulled from beauteous opening track ‘All I Know’, neatly summarizes this new outlook: moving on from ‘self-pity’ of the past-self by becoming present for the loved ones around you, improving understanding of one’s own self, via the wider world at large.
That track marks the first written during a lockdown stint in LA where Mahon wrote and recorded every day for 2 months, produced nigh on 250 demos and birthed the bulk of the record. It also brought Mahon back to his all-time favorite, Sufjan Stevens’ Ilinois and its blend of widescreen orchestral landscapes and more candid, naked acoustic-leaning variations - an important influence for the album's stylistic contrasts. Another key inspiration for the record too brought Mahon back to his roots - those full-bloom strains of his Mum’s Beloved Neil Diamond, an annual Christmas irritant to Mahon as a child, yet an artist he’s come to respect in adulthood. “Whatever the reason, with age I came to love the big show band sounds,” he says, “the idea of a performer on stage with a mas-sive orchestra with strings was amazing to me.”
With the help of producer Syd Kemp (Ulrika Spacek, Vanishing Twin), such grand designs could be met. - “When we first met, he asked me if I would like real strings on it. I said of course.” Enter Magda Mclean on violin (Caroline/the Umlauts), and Gamaliel Rendle Traynor on Cello (Sweat, Fat White Family), whose strings helped lift the record to romantic new heights.
He continues: “I said to Syd that the only thing I wanted to achieve with this rec-ord was that I wanted it to make me cry at one point. And we got there eventual-ly.” The final culmination of all these strands, ’Everything Has A Life’ is indeed a treasure trove of emotive riches. Locking into that bittersweet, quintessentially ‘pop’ combination of triumphant rhythms and confessional, stream-of-consciousness lyrics plucked straight from the heart, Mahon faces up to years of substance abuse with a series of gorgeous, blushing melodies: “I was using, I was drinking, I was lying to my friends, I was messing up again, I was hiding from myself”, he joyously chants on ‘The Growing’.
A banquet fit for an indie king, Everything Has A Life is loaded with psych-pop lusciousness (‘All I Know’) and anthemic glam fuzz (‘Death Of The Ladies Man’, ‘Deadstar’, or ‘Sonny is my Best Friend’); recalling that foundational Sufjan Ste-vens influence too with shambling flecks of country (‘Charly (Romantic Heart)’). There’s also those lo-fi crepitations of ‘My Man’ and ‘I can’t’ harking back home-recorded demos that lie at the core of Mahon’s creative process.

2023 Repress

CELESTE have been breaking the outer boundaries of heavy music for over fifteen years. When they first evolved from the Lyon hardcore punk scene, they were absolutely brutal and entirely unique, delivering extremity on their own terms that they pushed further and further with each successive album. “We just wanted to get darker and more violent,” says drummer Antoine Royer, until 2017’s Infidèle(s) saw the incorporation of a more melodic streak. Their most focussed record yet, it was tremendously received, critically adored, and backed with the band’s biggest shows to date.

Its follow-up was always going to be something radical. Even by their own inordinately high standards, however, new record Assassine(s) is one hell of a step forward. Even if this album still contains cyclonic walls of guitar, of battering rhythm, and passages of blissful, rushing release. it’s unlike anything the band have ever released; embracing a modern and forward-thinking production, they're just as complex but more direct, diverse and accessible than before. “Our leitmotif here was to open our minds,” says guitarist Sébastien Ducotté. “We made a real effort to think outside of our box.”

During lockdown CELESTE’s members were forced to each write individually. “We each went further into our personal, inner views of what the songs were,” says bassist and vocalist Johan Girardeau. When eventually they began sessions under producer Chris Edrich, it was gruelling. “We ended up exhausted, physically and mentally” says Johan. “There was no break in two weeks. We didn’t see the sun at all during that time. Every night we were so tired that we didn’t enjoy being together as much as we’re used to.” Nevertheless, in the same way the hardships of isolation led to richer and more complex songwriting, it’s that relentlessness that led to the record’s razor-sharp edges.

Above all else, CELESTE are innovators. Whether by pioneering French avant-garde metal when they formed at the turn of the millennium, by making their boldest leaps despite being seven albums deep into their career, or using two years away from live shows to tightly finetune their stagecraft, they refuse at all costs to rest on their laurels. There can be consequences to this instinct – fans of the band’s older work might be thrown off by their constant shifts of pace – but they’re throwing caution to the wind. A bit of backlash “would be a good thing, because it would mean that we’ve really changed,” says Guillaume . “It's not disrespectful, it's just that we never made music to please people, but just to enjoy what we're doing.” In the end, CELESTE are a band so forward-thinking that they can only be judged on the strength of their latest work. And when it comes to a record as bold as Assassine(s), they’ve hit a whole new peak entirely.

Cypress Hill’s self-titled debut album was hard as nails, with very few pop concessions. There was humor, but it was laced by cackling, homicidal sneering. Not well known outside of the hardcore hip-hop scene at first, faces of the three group members weren’t usually shown clearly in press photos; they preferred the shadows. As their first singles began hitting the airwaves and record racks, the press and music fans started to take notice.


From the opening notes of the group’s first single, “The Phuncky Feel One,” to deeper album cuts like “Stoned Is The Way Of The Walk” and “Tres Equis,” it was clear that Cypress Hill was something different. And very, very dope. The world Cypress Hill espoused was gang-ridden and far from cheery, but they managed to laugh through the pain. Lead rapper B-Real took each fuzzed-out, rock-hard DJ Muggs beat as a challenge, jumping around it like a spark off a joint as it makes its way to the concrete. MC Sen Dog always had B-Real’s back, to bring intensity and a no-bullshit gruffness that made the group both menacing and unpredictable.


When they introduced percussionist Eric Bobo to the mix in the early 90s, it brought new dimension to the band, making their live performances one of the most unique and accomplished shows in hip-hop. Journalist and author Chris Faraone highlights the group’s relationship in the reissue’s liner notes (which is included only in limited edition Skull) saying, “By the late ‘80s the undisputed Cypress unit finally formed. B and Sen realized that their diametric styles - the latter’s deep wrangle, the former’s inimitable high notes - complemented one another righteously. By then Muggs had bangers in the bag, as well as industry experience from a jaunt with the New York duo 7A3. B and Sen waited while Muggs messed with 7A3, and in that time began to build the blueprint for their raucous and weeded no-holds-barred style. Besides getting schooled on industry pitfalls, Muggs had also grown into hip-hop’s most formidable young producer, while straddling the bi-coastal gap.”

Cypress Hill’s debut went gold by the end of 1991 and has since pushed past double platinum status, making it the first album for a Latino-American hip hop group to do so. The album received raves from the likes of Rolling Stone and the Los Angeles Times, saw a #1 Hot Rap Single with the release of “The Phuncky One” and helped the band win Artist Of The Year at the 1992 Source Awards. After 25 years, it should come as no surprise that Cypress Hill is a cornerstone of the group’s live set to this day.

On Rock Island, their second LP, Palm produces evidence of a distinct musical language, developed over time, in isolation, and out of necessity. On the island, melodies are struck on what might be shells or spines. Rhythms are scratched out, swept over, scratched again. Individual instruments, and sometimes entire sections, skip and stutter. There is the sense of a music box with wonky tension or a warped transmission in which all the noise is taken for signal.

Like other groups so acclaimed for their compulsive live show, Palm has been burdened by the constant comparison between their recorded material and their touring set. On Rock Island, they render this tired discussion moot, using the album form to present that which could never be completely live, reserving for performance that which could never be completely reproduced.

Despite appearing behind the instruments typical of rock music, Palm trades in sounds of their own making. On these songs, one of the guitars and the drum kit are used as MIDI triggers, producing an index that can be combed through later and replaced with new information. The percussion is sometimes augmented so as to suggest a multiplication of limbs. The strings are manipulated to choke, crack, and hum like other instruments, or other bodies, might.

Working again with engineer Matt Labozza, the band spent the better part of a month in a rented farmhouse in Upstate New York. With the benefits of time and space, Palm recorded the various elements piecemeal, only rarely playing together in groups larger than two or three. While some members tracked, others holed up in the next room, experimenting with quantization, beat replacement, and other methods borrowed from electronic music. Even accounting for the many labors that brought them to be, these materials seem produced by an organic logic. Their complex friction forms a habit of thought, scores a network of grooves on the floor of the mind.

This is music with dimensionality. Sonic objects are deployed, developed, and dissected in various states of mutation. The listener flits about between the field and the lab. The tone is warm in a way only the sun could make, the pace as forceful and as variable as a gale. Whether one locates Rock Island in a sea or in a refinished attic (as in Greg Burak's album cover), whether one escapes to there or is banished, its psychic environs are charted clearly enough. Only at this remove from the mainland can we sense the conditions necessary for such a strange species of sound.

Read any article or comment thread about the Seattle noise-rock outfit GREAT FALLS and you're likely to see descriptors like cathartic, heavy, crushing, and unhinged. Maybe even psychotic. And sure, those are all apt: For over a decade, vocalist/guitarist Demian Johnston and bassist Shane Mehling (who also played together in the early-2000s noisecore band PLAYING ENEMY and the experimental duo HEMINGWAY) have honed their sludgy, overwhelmingly intense brand of heaviness, punctuated by delectably discordant riffs, terrifyingly low, thwacking bass lines, and mesmerizingly tight percussion. In the live setting, too, they’re notorious for a stage presence that is so aggressively confrontational and menacing that Mehling once broke his own arm mid-set.

But the most striking aspect of GREAT FALLS, setting them apart from the murky sea of sludge metal and AmRep-inspired noise-rock bands, is their ability to paint a deeply, utterly human story through an all-out assault on the senses: an art the band has perfected on their fourth full-length album OBJECTS WITHOUT PAIN, out September 15 via NEUROT RECORDINGS.

The album is not only their NEUROT debut, but also the first LP featuring drummer Nickolis Parks (GAYTHEIST, BASTARD FEAST), who joined the band prior to the release of their exhilarating, cacophonous 2023 EP,FUNNY WHAT SURVIVES.

OBJECTS WITHOUT PAIN takes us on a bleak, purgative journey through a separation–a snapshot of the turmoil and indecision that occurs after the initial realization of someone's misery, and before the ultimate decision to end a decades-long partnership. From the foreboding intro riffs of “DRAGGED HOME ALIVE” to the end of the 13-minute closer “THROWN AGAINST THE WAVES,” its eight tracks explore the thoughts that come up when a person is staring down the barrel of blowing up their life: How did this happen? Is it too late for a new life? Will the kid be OK? What will make me happier: familiar torment or unknown freedom?

Guy Pedersen's magical Maxi Music, originally released on cult Parisian library label tele Music in 1972, is psyche-rock and jazz-funk gold. It's a vital Pederson outing, oscillating between the rough and the smooth, but always with those hypnotic grooves. It's a start-to-finish winner, yet the final 13-minute-long opus will blow minds. Trust!

Stirring opener, "Prétexte Pour Indicatifs" is so mighty, it was covered by Keith Mansfield on "Hot Property" from Big Business/Wind Of Change on KPM. It's a track in 4 deliberate parts, the first a rapid tour de force, the second and third presenting organ-and-wah-wah-drenched slo-mo funk workouts and the fourth a return to the frenetic energy of the opening bars. Phew, pretty sensational. "Purgatoire Mood (Interlude)" is a beautiful segue into the stunning horn-laced, swift-paced aggressive jazzy excellence of "Purgatoire Mood 1" and the more poetic "Purgatoire Mood 2". Fast-paced funk beats and dramatic interplay!

"Christophus Colombus" is another song with multiple sections; the intro a rapid wah-wah-enhanced psych-rock statement that truly thrills before settling into a more steady yet no-less unrelenting guitar-funk showcase with wordless vocals and, later, reflective guitar and piano in gorgeous harmony. Closing out this electrifying side, the elegant "Bass In Love" is a soft'n'sultry slo-mo funk instrumental, as rough cello, jazzy piano and salacious, breathy vocals combine to create the scent of lingering heat to pretty rousing effect.

Ushering in Side B, "Sing Song Bass" is a slow starter but, once the drums kick in brilliantly, we're treated to a deeply melodic, propulsive, organ-flute-piano-bass gem - it's truly memorable and absolutely fantastic. The wonky, delirious psych-pop of "Petit Moujik De Nuit" is a curiously compelling number but it serves, for us at least, only as the pre-curser to the phenomenal closing track. An absolute beast that totally slays all before it!

Yes, despite Maxi Music being that rarest of library records - a record that can stand up on its own from front to back - it really does contain that *one* absolute killer track. And Peterson saved the best until last. The real highlight - can you imagine there's better?! - is the blazing psych-rock funky burner that is the infamous 13 minute thriller "Kermesse Non Héroique". Containing a wicked flute solo it genuinely sounds like something off the first Dungen album. Yes, that good. What a way to go out!

The audio for Maxi Music has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring this release sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original, iconic Tele Music house sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

In the late '70s, The Avengers established themselves as one of the US's preeminent punk bands. Fusing incisive guitar hooks, explosive rhythms and adolescent venom, the group forged some of the most in-your-face songs of the era. Their live shows were legendary, playing up and down the West Coast and even blowing Sex Pistols off the stage at the latter's final performance.

As Byron Coley writes in the liner notes, "Of the best bands of San Francisco's first wave in 1977, The Avengers were by far the coolest and youngest sounding. They roared without irony, as though this were indeed Year Zero (and, for a moment, it was) with history being overwritten by the new. The honesty of their belief was carried by their sound. And it was convincing!"

Originally released in 1983, four years after the band's dissolution, The Avengers' self-titled LP is often referred to as "The Pink Album" for its magenta-hued cover design. Frontwoman Penelope Houston's iconic voice and razor-sharp lyrics resonate on anthems "We Are The One" and "The American In Me," while penetrating ballads like "Corpus Christi" reveal a truly out-of-body euphony.

The Pink Album remains The Avengers' definitive statement - collecting their classic Dangerhouse EP, sessions recorded with the Pistols' Steve Jones and a half-dozen revelatory demos. While much has been written about The Avengers in the past three decades, rock critic Greil Marcus puts it succinctly, "The word I always come back to is mystical, and that remains almost theirs alone."

Michael Mayer’s IMARA imprint is proud to announce a reissue of German electronica maestro Schlammpeitziger’s second album, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut. Originally released in 1996 by Köln’s A-Musik label, it was the first Schlammpeitziger release to signal to a much wider audience that there was something very special going on in the music of Jo Zimmermann, the mastermind behind Schlammpeitziger. And while he’s subsequently gone on to release a further eight albums for labels like Sonig, Pingipung, and Bureau B, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is where it really all started for this most singular musician, illustrator and performance artist. Named after the ‘Schlammpeitzger’ or Weather Loach, a fish that breathes through its intestines, moves through substrate, and is surprisingly sensitive to changes in barometric pressure – hence its name – Schlammpeitziger is a similarly remarkable, singular creature.

Like all Schlammpeitziger’s music, Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is overflowing with melody. Using the simplest of set-ups – much of his early music was made with Casio keyboards – Zimmermann magics entire worlds of joy and melancholy. The nine songs here are both rich tributes to the joys of the everyday, and surreal fantasias. “Cosmic Fick” sails out to sea on clouds of taffy and spindrift; “Winterschlafsüßbärentraum” slips and slides around a dream aviary of the mind; the closing “Mango und Papaja auf Tobago” is a diorama spun from springs and Slinkys. Sometimes there are echoes of more peaceable Kosmische music – think Cluster circa Sowiesoso – and both the pacing and the amorphous, tactile textures sometimes recall Chris & Cosey. But Zimmermann’s unique signature is everywhere on Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut – simply put, no one else makes music quite as lovely and incandescent as this.

The album’s initial release coincided with an explosion of interest in the music coming out of Köln. This was a unique moment – one where pop, techno, house, ambience, avant-gardism, musique concrete, heavy DSP, and all kinds of other creative phenomena got muddied up in the ‘general jelly’ of Köln’s fast-moving, spirited musical communities. Zimmermann was closely aligned with the music coming out of the A-Musik and Sonig labels – a tightly-knit collection of artists centred around the A-Musik record store, making all kinds of weird and wonderful music, from the electronica of Mouse On Mars to the compositions of Marcus Schmickler, from the electro-acoustics of C-Schulz and Hajsch to the digitalia of FX Randomiz. Zimmermann himself would collaborate with the latter on an album under the name Holosud; friends such as Mouse On Mars and Kompakt’s Reinhard Voigt turned up on Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut’s remix EP.

Here, then, is one of the loveliest albums of its era, a pop-electronics album of serious play, one as moistly melancholy as it is melodically riveting. Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut is rare beauty indeed.

Michael Mayers Label IMARA ist stolz darauf, eine Neuauflage des zweiten Albums des deutschen Electronica-Maestros Schlammpeitziger, “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut”, bekannt zu geben. Ursprünglich 1996 vom Kölner Label A-Musik veröffentlicht, war es die erste Veröffentlichung von Schlammpeitziger, die einem viel breiteren Publikum signalisierte, dass in der Musik von Jo Zimmermann, dem Mastermind hinter Schlammpeitziger, etwas ganz Besonderes vor sich ging. Obwohl er seitdem weitere acht Alben für Labels wie Sonig, Pingipung und Bureau B veröffentlicht hat, ist “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” der Ort, an dem alles für diesen einzigartigen Musiker, Illustrator und Performance-Künstler begann. Schlammpeitziger, benannt nach dem “Schlammpeitzger” oder Wetterbarsch, einem Fisch, der durch seine Därme atmet, sich durch den Untergrund bewegt und erstaunlich empfindlich auf Veränderungen im Luftdruck reagiert – daher der Name – ist ebenfalls eine bemerkenswerte, einzigartige Kreatur.

Wie alle Musik von Schlammpeitziger ist auch “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” voller Melodien. Mit einfachsten Mitteln – ein Großteil seiner frühen Musik wurde mit Casio-Keyboards gemacht – zaubert Zimmermann ganze Welten voller Freude und Melancholie. Die neun Songs hier sind sowohl reiche Hommagen an die Freuden des Alltags als auch surreale Fantasien. “Cosmic Fick” segelt auf Wolken aus Karamell und Gischt hinaus aufs Meer; “Winterschlafsüßbärentraum” schlittert und gleitet durch einen Traum-Vogelkäfig im Geist; das abschließende “Mango und Papaja auf Tobago” ist ein Diorama aus Federn und Slinkys. Manchmal gibt es Echos von friedlicherer Kosmischer Musik – denke an Cluster circa “Sowiesoso” – und sowohl das Tempo als auch die amorphen, taktilen Texturen erinnern manchmal an Chris & Cosey. Aber Zimmermanns einzigartige Signatur ist überall auf “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” zu hören – ganz einfach, niemand sonst macht Musik so lieblich und leuchtend wie er.

Die ursprüngliche Veröffentlichung des Albums fiel mit einem Aufschwung des Interesses an der Musik aus Köln zusammen. Dies war ein einzigartiger Moment – einer, in dem Pop, Techno, House, Ambient, Avantgardismus, Musique Concrete, Heavy DSP und allerlei andere kreative Phänomene sich in der “Allgemeinen Gelee” der schnelllebigen, lebendigen musikalischen Gemeinschaften von Köln vermischten. Zimmermann stand in enger Verbindung mit der Musik der Labels A-Musik und Sonig – eine eng verbundene Gruppe von Künstlern rund um das A-Musik-Plattengeschäft, die alle möglichen seltsamen und wundervollen Musikrichtungen produzierten, von der Electronica von Mouse On Mars bis zu den Kompositionen von Marcus Schmickler, von der Elektroakustik von C-Schulz und Hajsch bis zur Digitalia von FX Randomiz. Zimmermann selbst würde mit letzterem an einem Album unter dem Namen Holosud zusammenarbeiten; Freunde wie Mouse On Mars und Reinhard Voigt von Kompakt tauchten in der Remix-EP von “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” auf.

Hier also eines der schönsten Alben seiner Zeit, ein Pop-Electronics-Album voller ernsthaftem Spiel, so feucht melancholisch wie melodisch fesselnd. “Freundlichbaracudamelodieliedgut” ist wahrlich eine seltene Schönheit.

The next FKOF Records release sees us welcome four artists back into the FKOF fold with our first VIP record in the imprint’s history. It’s great seeing artists remix other artists’ work and putting a new spin on it, but there’s something special about producers revisiting their own work to put an extra spicy flip on solo material. So that’s what we’ve done with FKOFv006...

Nonesuch releases Sorry I Haven’t Called, the new album by Vagabon, the moniker of Lætitia Tamko. Co-produced by Tamko and Rostam (Vampire Weekend, Haim, Clairo), it finds Tamko reinventing herself once again and features the most playful and adventurous music of her career, as evidenced by its lead track and opening song ‘Can I Talk My Shit?’. Vagabon has also announced an autumn tour that includes a headline run in the US, as well as European dates with Weyes Blood.



“I didn’t feel like being introspective,” says Tamko of her new album. “I just wanted to have fun.” Following her intimate 2017 debut Infinite Worlds, the New York artist favoured expansive and evocative electronic textures in her breakthrough 2019 self-titled follow-up. But her latest album feels like a wholly new era for Tamko, one that’s transformational and uncompromising. Across 12 vibrant tracks she wrote and produced primarily in Germany, she channels dance music and effervescent pop through her own confident sensibilities. These conversational songs are alive and unselfconscious, a document of an artist fully embracing her vision and reclaiming her joy.



The first words she sings on the album are, “Can I talk my shit? / I got way too high for this.” It’s a statement of purpose for the rest of the album that this is an unapologetic artist. “This whole record is how I talk to my friends and how to talk to my lovers,” says Tamko. “I think honesty and conversational songwriting can become poetry. There’s beauty in plainly speaking without metaphors and without flowery imagery.”



The story of Sorry I Haven’t Called started in grief after Tamko’s best friend died in 2021. This devastating and unexpected loss unmoored Tamko but also gave her a newfound clarity. “The things that I thought I cared about, I no longer cared about,” she says. “I had a realization that I need to make sure to feel everything that comes my way.” She decided to sell her things and move to a small lakeside village a few hours north of Hamburg in northern Germany to process everything. “There's no linear path to grief, and everyone handles it differently, but uprooting my life just felt like exactly what I had to do,” says Tamko. “I needed a place to think and go through my discomfort privately but to also explore the newness and urgency I was feeling in my life.” In the village, her phone didn’t work and there were no close grocery stores or restaurants, so she spent her time alone working on music.



Despite the palpable absence in her life, her new songs were her most disarming and ebullient yet. The first one she wrote was ‘Carpenter’, a mesmerizing track anchored by a tangible bass groove, where she sings, “I wasn’t ready to move on out / but I'm more ready now.” It’s a fully-realised track and feels like the culmination of her catalogue so far. “A lot of the music that I was making there had nothing to do with my grief at all,” says Tamko. “Once I gave myself permission to make a record that's full of life and energy, I realized that’s the point of this album. In the midst of going through all of these tough things, it became a record because of the vitality that these songs had.” For Tamko, there’s power in pursuing happiness.



While writing in Germany, Tamko nurtured her love for dance music and let it seep into her new songs. “The only things that were giving me access to a feeling were dance music and going to a rave in an extremely dark club where if I wanted to cry, I could do it and be around other people,” she says.



After a few months in Germany that included marathon writing sessions and a whirlwind romance, Tamko decided to stay with friends in Los Angeles and finish her record. She enlisted co-producer Rostam to help her unify her vision.



Sorry I Haven’t Called is a warm and resilient album about embracing the ecstatic moments wherever you can by knowing how you love and how you mourn. It’s an album born of both communal dancefloor revelations and the clarifying peace from solitude, an emotional rebirth as well as an artistic one. “This record feels like what I've been working towards,” says Tamko. “When I think of this album, I think of playfulness. It's completely euphoric. It's because things were dark that this record is so full of life and energy. It’s a reaction to what I was experiencing at the time, not a document of it.”

Trumpeter, bandleader and composer Matthew Halsall announces landmark new album An Ever Changing View, an expansive, immaculately conceived project which presents Halsall’s signature blend of jazz, electronica, global and spiritual jazz influences.

An Ever Changing View will be released on September 8th on Gondwana Records (the label Halsall founded 15 years ago) ahead of a landmark show at The Royal Albert Hall in London on September 21st and UK and EU tour dates.

Halsall who has been hailed as one of the leading figures of the UK jazz renaissance has never seen himself as part of any one sound or scene: he builds his own sonic universe instead. An Ever Changing View finds him at his most experimental yet, once again expanding his sound and production techniques to create his unique brand of deeply meditative music.

During the album's creation, he was staying in both a beautiful architect’s house with breath-taking sea views and a striking modernist house, where he composed what he saw “like a landscape painting”. In these new environments, Halsall wanted to capture “the feeling of openness and escapism” and to approach making music again from scratch. “I hit the reset button and wanted to have complete musical freedom,” he says. “It was a real exploration of sound.”

It was hearing jazz on the dancefloor as a teenager that first opened up new possibilities in Halsall’s mind and his music has long drawn on his love for the spiritual jazz of Alice Coltrane and Pharoah Sanders and contemporary electronica from the likes of Warp Records and Ninja Tune. An Ever Changing View melds those forms in a way that feels heady and, at times, even otherworldly. One of the album’s starting points was Halsall’s ever-expanding box of percussion, from congas and kalimba to various clusters of seeds, bells and chimes, which he sampled and looped to use as a foundation for the songs – a first for him and his band. Elevating, charming, totally modern jazz tracks jostle with deft warm magic realism; and laid back grooves with hand percussion, deep bass and the gorgeous glisten of the Fender Rhodes meet hip-hop beats. Halsall himself sparkles, illuminating his beautiful tapestries of sound with lithe, glistening elegiac trumpet.