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Zürich-based musician Angelo Repetto returns with his new album Between Worlds: Interference, released on Subject to Restrictions Discs. The record is the result of a unique collaboration with Argentinian visual artist Clara Grabowiecki, extending their immersive live project Between Worlds into a sonic and tangible form.

«This album is a continuation of the deep conversations Clara and I had about concepts of perception that led us to question silence, time, transcendence, and the future», says Repetto. «It’s not about finding answers, but about opening spaces where sound, image, and emotion can flow freely.»

Between Worlds: Interference oscillates between hypnotic rhythms, kraut-inspired synth layers, and psychedelic atmospheres – hallmarks of Repetto’s style that listeners may recognize from earlier releases such as Sundown Explosion and Kamiokande. At its core it is an invitation into an open dimension where disciplines, experiences, and realities dissolve into one another. It is both a deeply personal statement and a collective journey into new perceptual spaces.

After a series of successful outings alongside sidekicks Ofofo and Zongamin, studio wizard MYTRON turns in his debut solo full-length for Multi Culti World Records. With contributions on Invisible Inc, Calypso, Bongo Joe, Kalahari Oyster Cult, LYO, Codek Records and Earthly Measures, Mytron has carved out a name for himself in a carefully-curated left-field quadrant of the indie-dance galaxy. Tuning his oscillators to myriad sounds — from dub and disco to krautrock — the London-based producer perhaps most notably channels the pristine compositional style of Kraftwerk. While most apparent in the use of vocoder, there’s a consistent efficiency of arrangement that recalls the man-machine in effervescent, idealistic fashion. Mytron manages to keep it simple, funky and musical — whimsical tunes that bop along with analog grit, wilderness, and wonk. There’s a warmth and wit that shine through every synth line, an understated confidence that speaks of years spent tangled in wires and waveforms, with an inclusive sonic eclecticism that flattens hierarchies between genres, geographies, and generations. Each influence is invited to the table, treated not as pastiche but invited to dine and dance in a space where kosmische dub disco and Afro rhythms can coexist without borders. The sleeve design echoes this philosophy: video-feedback patterns hinting at our modern screens, both portals and filters — coloured, distorted intermediaries through which we perceive the world. In the trippiest sense, the record is both reflection and refraction — a sonic mirror held up to an interconnected, glitchy reality. Tailored equally for DJ use and home-listening head trip, the album is meticulous, mischievous and merry.

BanBanTonTon review:

On Mytron’s debut long-player for Multi Culti groovy 21st Century leftfield house gear collides with Daniele Baldelli and Beppe Loda’s hugely influential `80s afro / cosmic. The 9 tracks are chunky, chugging and full of funky, funny noises. Old school B-lines mixing with eccentric electronics. Spinning, spiralling sounds.

Sugar is an electro-pop, vocoder confection, cut from the same sonic cloth as cult classics like Codek’s Tam Tam. Created from tough trap drums, splashing effects and a mutant Giorgio Moroder bass arpeggio. The title track, Propellor, pits Kraftwerk-esque hardware harmonised vocals against a bongo loop and a whistling hook. Playground has simian shrieks surround tumbling tom-toms. Highway Maintenance adds kosmische synths to a dance of woodblocks and buzzing bottom end. Keep On Dubbing is an organ-led, clip clopping percussive canter.

Tracks such as Speaker Can Talk, shot through with disco lasers blasts and recalling Curt Cress’ Dschung Tek, also lift the tempo up, but the bulk of the music here is a mid-tempo, techno drum circle. Squelchy sequences gurgling in and out of programmed percussion. On Quasar, spiky acid edges in and slowly takes over.

Key references that come to mind are Baldelli’s own turn-of-the-2000s Cosmic Sound Project productions, and Wolf Müller’s scene shaking sides on Themes For Great Cites, from around a decade later.

The story of how we heard about D.J. City.
Once upon a time P.P. D.J.ed in Stockholm. Picked up by legend Sling from the airport, with what I recall was a very nice old Jeep, that had a tape deck.
That Tape deck was playing a cassette that quickly caught our attention. We found out, on it was „1- 800 Techno“, a project by another local legend D.J. City. Somehow we received the tape and digital files and have been playing them ever since.
Years later we met D.J. City at a gig for Cocktail D’Amore, it was a brief and pleasant introduction as he was handing over the decks to us.
It took some more time until we really got in touch and started a work relation that quickly turned into friendship. Circa 10 years later, we have the opportunity to properly shine light on this project that started it all.
You can listen to the full release digitally and on Vinyl for the first time. „1-800 Techno“ that is Karl Lihagen & Johan Norling (aka D.J. City) with „For Several Eternals Before There Were Years“. This I guess is what you call a „full circle moment“. Enjoy!

As far as disco bangers go, they don't come much better than 'To Be With You Again'. The shock is hits is actually a brand new tune on a new label rather than an unearthed old gem. It's a heart-swelling sound with symphonic strings and swooning energy all finished in magnificent style by the stunning vocals from the Choir of Angelic Disco Angels. Getaway Jones adds the tight bassline and some superb keys to make this a must-cop 12" this is guaranteed to fly off the shelves. An instrumental on the flip is just as moving, but it's the vocal-fuelled A-side that really soars.

Between Faith and Noiz represents the exact point where faith and inner chaos coexist.
It's an introspective journey toward the center of the mind: the space where thought becomes distorted, where sound turns into a reflection of doubt, where faith is tested within one's own noise.

Noiz symbolizes that internal, mental, and emotional noise that distorts reality - the voices, the interference, the overload of stimuli.
Faith, on the other hand, is the thread that keeps direction, the spark that survives when everything vibrates and collapses.

The EP portrays that invisible struggle between believing and falling apart, between the silence that soothes and the noise that purifies.
Each track acts as a stage of that journey: the oath (Faith and Oath), the wound (Ulcerate), the essence (Oxeo), the connection (Captures Spirits), and finally, the release (Noiz).

It's not about finding faith outside, but rebuilding it from within the noise.

Daniele Baldelli and Jolly Mare come together for a record that feels less like a collaboration and more like a shared state of mind. Flusso Uno moves through Afro-cosmic kraut-inflected psychedelia and cinematic electronics with a natural, unforced flow, where rhythm, texture and narrative all pull in the same direction.
Rather than referencing the past, the EP treats it as a living language. The longform, ritualistic percussion of early cosmic dance culture meets the hypnotic motorik pulse of krautrock and the more structured, sample-driven tribalism that followed in later decades. What ties it all together is a deep sense of atmosphere and intention: music that feels physical, emotional and quietly transportive.
“We particularly focused on ritual percussions, hypnotic grooves and suspended atmospheres, trying to blend musical anthropology, auteur electronics and narrative instinct.”
Dhol Parade opens the journey like a slow-burning procession, drums circling and expanding as if guiding the listener into another space. With Icari the perspective lifts, melodic lines drifting and tilting, constantly searching for balance between gravity and flight. Huldufolk pulls everything back into a shadowy, nocturnal zone, where textures feel half-real, half-imagined.
Finally, Viaggio Tascabile loses the record in a quietly reflective way, a compact voyage that sums up the EP’s philosophy: small in scale, deep in meaning. Flusso Uno is not about nostalgia or revivalism. It is about taking the spirit of cosmic culture and letting it breathe in the present, where storytelling, dancefloor intuition and sonic exploration still meet. A record made for open ears, open minds and long nights.

At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.

Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.

One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.

Yeong Die would typically be described as DJ, musician, or “experimental” composer, but in reality she is a sculptor. Between the rapidly disintegrating boundaries of composition and sound design, her work employs a hunting and gathering of intangible material—bursts of memory, fragments of liminal space, interstitial banalities—materializing as boundless expressions that evade genre constructs. As an integral presence among Seoul’s most forward thinking sound artists, Yeong is in a constant uphill battle rejecting the reverence that so quickly creeps in and infects contemporary craft, that relegates even the most audacious attempts of her peers to pigeon-hole pastiche. Given this style-agnostic starting line, her ESP Institute debut 'Uncapturable' exudes non-urgency, an unfettered pace that allows breathing room, affording the listener freedom to mentally isolate and explore elements without fear of missing a “bigger picture.” There is a warm and welcoming feeling that invites repetitive, even studied listening. While half the work is somewhat singular in presentation—'1km', 'Like Your Flaw', or 'Burnt'—there are moments of meticulous complexity—'Morning Rum Punch' (featuring vocals by Cifika) and 'Did' (featuring a smattering of spoken words by icecream drum), both underground Korean peer artists. These moments feel more of like an acute focus on execution that compliments the overall shape of the album, rather than a dynamic contrast. Cifika’s vocals, in particular, command the listener’s periphery in a playful and refreshing way, exaggerating negative space and in-between moments that not only the paint an arresting stereo field but a remarkable sense of depth, not easily achieved without production sorcery. It is, without a doubt, these beautiful fleeting moments that we describe as 'Uncapturable'.

Already in its title, Plume Girl’s debut thoroughly lets things go and takes them in – all at once. “In the End We Begin” is the first solo full-length from Sowmya Somanath, a Hindustani classical singer/composer and half of alt-pop duo Felt Out. Plume Girl’s music takes inspiration from the semi-regular musical form of the rāga (translated as ‘tinting’), invoking mood and atmosphere, each rāga thought to have its own distinct nature and personality, brought to life through improvisation. String swells and Somanath’s searching vocalisations envelop every track’s own blissful chamber. Exploring imagined binaries along the way — eastern vs. western, traditional vs. experimental, acoustic vs. electronic, Sowmya sees music as a curious dialogue between divine Self and an invisible reality. Beneath the illusion of a chromatic world, there remains a blissful oneness.

Plume Girl’s songs sit between ambient Hindustani music and emotionally-encumbered pop. In front of backdrops comprising sundrenched drones or glitches, sketched out beats, and criss-crossing glissandi or flutes, Somanath both murmurs intimately and spirals upwards into soaring choruses. The lyrics ponder innermost thoughts, never more literally than on the blissful emo folk closing track: ‘In my heart I know / what’s in my heart / I know what’s in my…’

“When I began writing this music, I was fresh off of an experience that completely twisted my reality,” explains Somanath. It was the end of a years-long relationship, and the blossoming of a long-buried love hidden in plain sight: “a best friend of a decade, my musical partner, someone who had always seen me completely…At once, I felt grief and loss. At once, excitement and love.”

Accepting the darkness can be a liberating experience. Realising, and struggling with just who we are and what world we live in requires it. By further complicating the fractured sense of beauty found on his droning 2022 release, ‘I dreamt we found a way’, Bristol-based composer, Rob Winstone creates a language that encapsulates the lifelong reach for our own personal heavens, along with the darkness and fear on which those foundations are built.

Winstone’s instrumental palette continues to reach out far from behind his keyboards, however the sound of ‘sifting through heaven’ is stripped back and pared down, putting melody front and centre. 'postcards and loose tea', a love song written for Winstone’s partner during a period coming to terms with health difficulties had previously self-released with heavy spectral and granular manipulation from the artist. Here Winstone re-presents the original: “the stripped back recording I made in my old damp and cold studio that was in a building that has since been demolished”. It reflects the composer’s own journey, doing away with veils and histrionics, and embracing emotional bliss wherever it can be found, warts and all. Even the rumbling dark ambience of ’hospital corridor’ - where distant chimings, groans, and droplets synthesized from field recordings made nervously in a hospital waiting for test results coalesce - harbours a sacred-seeming beauty and aseptic warmth within its very bleak sense of dread.

There’s no better way to describe Winstone’s method than ‘sifting through heaven’. The hymnal organ chords, sketched out acoustic guitar phrases, scattering drum thuds, and meditative field recordings may flit between tenebrous to incandescent, but his focus is always on the embrace of love; “a view of life that embraces positive growth, yet doesn't deny immense suffering,” as he puts it. The album is bookended by two of Winstone’s most outright peaceful moments, summarising his core message: 'in spite of it all...' '...love finds a way'.

Incl. Andrade Remix

We are very happy to welcome John De La Noise to our artists Family!
The new talent from the House capital city in Italy called Bari.
Virtual Feelings EP is a beatiful House Monster not to be missed!

Cut The With The Cake Knife was recorded by Rose McDowall in 1988/89 following the break up of her group Strawberry Switchblade. Produced with the aid of several musicians in several studios, the album features songs written for the fabled second Strawberry Switchblade album. More importantly perhaps it showcases the honest, direct and life-affirming songs of one of the greatest unsung songwriters of the modern pop era at a tumultuous time in her career.

Tibet opens the set and could be one of the best pop songs you've never heard. The innate sadness of the songs' content - the loss of a friendship, impending sorrow - is heightened to heart-melting level by McDowall's pop nous and melodic sensibility. Choruses and hooks are everywhere on Cake Knife, from the outsider take on stadium 80s pop in Wings Of Heaven to the spiraling, ecstatic So Vicious, a glorious anthem that highlights the human fragility in McDowall's vocal performance, an instrument that has never lost the naïve purity it first exemplified in Strawberry Switchblade's early 80s recordings. The centerpiece of the album, the title-track, is the greatest Switchblade pop chart hit that never was. Like the veiled melancholy of her former group's hits, Cut With The Cake Knife hints at a darkness beneath the gloss, a darkness that saw McDowall delve into more esoteric territory with her subsequent recordings and collaborations. Cut With The Cake Knife serves as the bridge between the pop music McDowall had been making with her friends Jill Bryson, Lawrence from Felt and Primal Scream to what became a more extreme, deep sound informed by neo-folk and post industrial music.

Rose McDowall's role in the canon has always been one of an outsider. Beginning in Glasgow's East End in the avant proto-noise group The Poems, achieving fame briefly in the 80s and then disappearing into counter-cultural folklore, the emphasis in the internet-age has been skewed towards her image and cultural significance. Unseen to many, her solo work, her groups Sorrow and Spell and her collaborations with a whole host of underground luminaries have still touched lives. As McDowall elucidates: 'They're real sad songs, about real life. I've had people come up to me to say I'd connected with them and helped them. I remember a gig in America when we made a whole room cry. It was bizarre. A couple at the front of the stage started crying and then these two boys beside and suddenly everyone was crying. And I thought, "that's power."

Night School's issue of Cut With The Cake Knife includes unpublished photographs, extensive sleeve notes from Rose McDowall and 2 bonus tracks culled from the bootleg 7' 'Don't Fear The Reaper.' First vinyl pressing is Clear w/ Black swirl; 500 only / has DL card and booklet, with a poster
CD has extensive booklet and is packaged in anO-Card.

New music from The Strokes arrives now, beginning with a new song, “Going Shopping” released today. Produced by Rick Rubin, Reality Awaits is the 7th album from The Strokes. Full track list includes nine new songs — set for release on June 26.

dgoHn (pronounced “John") is the moniker of John Cunnane, who hails from somewhere between London and Essex. ‘Tessares,’ his fourth album but his first for Planet Mu, is playful, unconventional drum & bass that contrasts sparse effects and melodic elements with complex drumfunk and breakcore. He often uses unusual time signatures and head-spinning polyrhythms inspired by jazz and math rock, sometimes within the same track. Somehow he makes it sound effortless, and occasionally pretty as well, keeping a fine balance that never feels punishing; exploratory without getting lost.

He's built a name for himself over the last two decades performing live at festivals and events around the world, while collaborating with fellow artists such as Macc, Nic TVG, Jodey Kendrick and Badun as well as solo releases.


The album opens with ‘Waiting For’ which combines complex breaks with melodic fills, spacey effects and dubbed out vocals that feel like snatches of lost conversations - a combination he uses throughout the album giving it an eerie touch of humanity. Lead single ‘I Couldn't Remember So I Made Something Up’ is in 15/8 time. It feels like a conventional melodic drum & bass track, but the time signature disrupts the listeners’ expectations, while the detuned melody eases its sense of dislocation. ’Whistling On A Tuesday’ opens with a light echoey piano countdown into bass stabs which introduce heavy whirling amen breakbeats that switch between 180 and 120 bpm. ’Holly Can Swim But She Doesn’t Really Like It’ is the most rhythmically challenging track here. It feels hard to hang on to as its knotty breaks play out over bell chimes, like something Autechre might make if jungle was in their DNA. The album ends on the dubbed-out drumfunk of ‘7 Years Or More,’ with an arrangement that builds a filmic, dusty atmosphere of chimes and electric guitar, layering in vocals, vinyl crackle and echoing synth giving way to tough drums, before all that is taken away so that just a voice remains.

Well know from the parties here they are with a first vinyl release: Hardcore Heroes

His fresh, delicate playing has captivated countless listeners, and his debut album Scenery has come to be highly acclaimed around the world. Fukui, who began playing the piano at the age of 22, recorded this album when he was just 28. The earnest passion of his youth resonates throughout the music, gently stirring the emotions of those who listen. The spacious, confident swing of “It Could Happen To You”, the refreshing joy radiating from “Early Summer”, the late autumn coolness imbued in the title track “Scenery” each embodies the uniquely expansive yet nuanced “Hokkaido sensibility” that flowed naturally from Fukui’s artistry.
Within this album, the beautiful landscapes that Ryo Fukui crafted his Scenery continue to breathe eternally.
text by Yusuke Ogawa (UNIVERSOUNDS / DEEP JAZZ REALITY)

This is joy beyond expectation the arrival of a new Ryo Fukui recording. Captured on June 26, 2004, this live session documents the ninth anniversary concert of Slowboat, the jazz club Fukui founded and considered his musical home. The trio features Ryo Fukui on piano, Benisuke Sakai on bass, and Yoshihito Eto on drums. Fukui was 56 years old at the time, and his playing is powerful and expansive, yet still marked by delicacy and razor sharp precision. In terms of energy, stamina, and technique, he was entering a true period of artistic maturity. He delivers the music of his beloved Phineas Newborn Jr. and Tommy Flanagan with depth and elegance, and approaches the works of Wayne Shorter—an early-life influence—with thrilling intensity. The performance captures Fukui at a moment of profound fulfillment, offering a truly compelling glimpse into his late career brilliance.