Moulded By Industry is William D Drake's six album, his first for ten years and a return to the richly layered sonic texture and epic production of his majestic Briny Hooves. He is joined by long time collaborators James Larcombe, Dean Gaisburgh-Watkyn and Steve Jackson, with the addition of a new crew member, singer Treana Morris. Moving on from his nine years of pianistic and compositional duties in Cardiacs, Drake's solo work has been known for its synthesis of Mellotron-driven grandeur with a surreal playfulness.
But the deep heart of Drake's work is in its powerful evocation of the landscape of the countryside and its connection with love, longing and loss. To this end, his own enigmatic lyrics have rubbed shoulders with poetry drawn from across the centuries. From obscure sources such as Samuel Spree to the poetry of Thomas Hardy and Rupert Brooke, his settings make old words shimmer with human emotion. The texture of his music also reflects an inspirational lack of concern for distances of time. The earthy breath of his harmonium is interwoven with tones teased from archaic instruments by James Larcombe – hurdy-gurdy, dulcitone and melodeon.
But Drake's sound-world is no museum. Here, ancient words and the timbres of ancient instruments become one with the rush of a moment's emotion. Moulded By Industry brings this approach a new sonic depth, intoxicatingly shaded by Treana's lush vocal harmonies and underpinned by Steve's rhythm. Dean's evocative guitar textures give an oceanic sense, tinged with Americana, recalling his work with Drake in their alt country band Nervous. These many layers of sound are drawn together into vivid soundscapes by the painterly mixing of producer Ott. Renowned for his work in electronica and dub, Ott's two decades of experience working with artists such as Sinéad O'Connor, the Orb and Brian Eno bring an organic touch here, more akin to the elemental forces of land and sky than grid electricity. More than any of Drake's previous albums, Moulded By Industry reignites the emotional urgency of old texts. The gorgeous single The Flickering Shade, haunted by glimmers of lost possibilities, is set from words by Thomas Ashe. Turtledove's heady evocation of the blissful madness of love sets the words of an anonymous 17th century ballad. above all, the album is a testament to Drake's love of John Clare, 'The Northamptonshire Peasant Poet'. Clare wrote as the centuries old process of enclosure, in which wild and common land was appropriated commercially, was accelerating.
His works, rather than representing simple sentimentality, are passionate love poems to the landscape and cries from a soul reeling from the creeping unfamiliarity devouring it. This sense of the tension between passion and ill-ease has its most potent expression in Green Shadows. The brooding, slow-tempo energy of Steve's drums drive a horizon-wide lament, alternately lulled by Treana's vocal textures and made restless by James' plaintive hurdy-gurdy and the emotive pull of Dean's slide guitar. The present moment is also a time of enclosure, both metaphorically, as our lives, memories and emotions are drawn into the commercial space of social media, and literally as land and water are swallowed by vast data centre developments. Moulded By Industry celebrates a regained sense of being in the moment in the landscape, in life and in love. The album closes with the utterly delightful single Love In The Universe. The kind of song that could make a cynic use the word 'joyous' without irony, this Harry Nilsson-esque romp reassures us, with a wink, that 'in an infinite universe everything has its place ... even the human race'.
Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.
Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.
'Quiet Pieces' initiates Abul Mogard’s personal imprint Soft Echoes with a definitive self-portrait of calm, contemplative, and discreet inner landscapes made audible. It is the first solo album on vinyl in four years. RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker.
While sifting through archived material left idle from earlier projects, a chance encounter with a late uncle’s trove of beloved 78rpm classical and opera records prompted the reworking and completion of what would eventually become the album. Spinning dusty records at 33 and 45rpm, Abul Mogard recombined their enduring spectres with unfinished sketches from his archive. The resulting soundscape blurs distinctions between his memories and those of another, exquisitely short-circuiting the senses with its waking, dream-like lucidity.
This was a process I hadn’t explored in my earlier works. I began sampling brief moments from these records, altering them with studio effects and playing them at slower speeds. In many cases, I wasn’t entirely sure how the original music sounded. These fragments, once further processed, became a source of inspiration for my new compositions. Over time, I realised that the old pieces from the archive and the new material derived from the samples naturally complemented each other.”
The resulting pieces hover over a threshold, a liminal space that harmonises the old and older material. Voluminous waves of quiet and loud undulate between consonance and dissonance, conjuring imagery of a decaying grandeur that humanity’s decadence has surrendered to the elements. Abul Mogard’s seemingly abandoned yet vast landscapes are nevertheless intimate with timbral frissons of red-lined distortion. Elusive, yet as tangible as sea spray or smog, they affect the olfactory senses with a rarified, synesthetic quality that modestly engages one’s emotional register – a hypnotic, distinguishing feature long hailed as one of the hallmarks of his work. A fidelity to memory and dream recall is sensitively probed in the journey from the stately symphonic stasis of 'Following a dream' to the almost industrial, untethered brutality evoked by a looming silhouette that’s never fully visible in 'Constantly slipping away', culminating in the foreboding coda of 'Like a bird'. Those pieces appear to shield the album’s sentimental core, where the tempestuous play of light and shadow of 'In a studded procession' escalates to breathtaking, panoramic climax, while 'Through whispers' evokes an out-of-body-like experience encountered with visceral poignancy.
Looking back, Mogard notes an unexpected influence: “I realise being inspired by Phill Niblock, whose work I had barely known at the time but explored after his passing in 2024. His album 'Boston Tenor Index' changed the way I approached dissonance. It encouraged me to push my sound further, to the edge of a space where I began to feel uncomfortable.”
The album artwork, created by longtime collaborator Marja de Sanctis, features a photograph taken at the Temple of Jupiter Anxur, an archaeological site overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Captured with an iPhone, the image traces the residual presence of construction techniques and architectural forms of the Romans, where material history is transcribed through contemporary tools. The convergence of ancient and modern technology aims to reverberate the site’s lasting spiritual presence – an echo persisting in what is now perceived as a quiet, emptied space. The spiral gestures towards infinity and light. Past and present dissolve into one another, reflecting 'Quiet Pieces' meditation on sound, memory, and time.
RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker
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Led by Samantha Martin's unmistakable powerhouse voice, Samantha Martin & Delta Sugar deliver an explosive blend of soul, blues, gospel and rock 'n' roll Backed by an 11-piece band featuring a three-piece horn section and soaring vocal harmonies, Martin commands the stage with equal parts grit, grace and emotional force. Two-time JUNO Award nominees and internationally recognized as one of Canada's most compelling live acts, the band has built its reputation through electrifying performances and a catalogue that carries the classic soul DNA of Mavis Staples, Sharon Jones and Otis Redding, delivered with the urgency, volume and energy of a modern rock 'n' roll revue. Released in May 2026, A Beautiful Buzz captures Samantha Martin & Delta Sugar at full flight during the Love Is All Around tour. The album generated immediate international attention, topping the Euro Americana, Big Blues and UK Independent Blues Broadcasters Association and Roots Music Report charts. Rolling Stone France Editor in Chief selected A Beautiful Buzz as one of its "10 Albums to Listen to, "With blazing horns, gospel- charged harmonies and Martin's commanding voice at the centre, A Beautiful Buzz recalls the joyful abandon of Joe Cocker's Mad Dogs & Englishmen while remaining unmistakably their own. Blue Matters described it as "the front row experience, bottled with warmth, fire and unmistakable soul," while Blues in Britain placed Martin "up there with the best of contemporary female vocalists." Building on the album's international momentum, Samantha Martin & Delta Sugar will bring their show to Europe and the UK in May 2027, followed by a second run in November.
Following one of 2025’s standout EPs, the CEO of the National Centre for Mark Fell Studies fires from the hip in brilliant, club-troubling motion. In step with 30 years of prism-pushing work — and particularly the »Nite Closures« EP, which signalled a concerted return to the dancefloor — Fell pulls aspects of hypermodern dance and electronic music from Chicago, Tanzania, and Japan into his own peculiar agenda.
The hugely distinctive results pull the body into thrillingly unusual, typically ascetic arrangements, activating every pointillist drum hit with attack and decay in a soberly ludic play of rhythmelodic tension and release, executed to delirious ends; 40 minutes of computer music.
As an artist who witnessed first-hand the explosion of electronic music in early ’80s Sheffield, and its interplay with house and rave as it refracted into wild new styles during the ’90s, Mark Fell is uniquely positioned to pursue his passion for the dynamics of electronic dance music to the nth degree. »Servitude In Context« continues to develop ideas around music for movement in the mid-2020s, placing decades of keen observation — from the macro and historical to the niche and hypermodern — at the service of flexing bodies in new directions.
Long-held notions of multistability manifest in what feels like two machines playing chess on the dancefloor, attempting to adapt to each other’s playing styles and patterns in real time, anticipating and zigzagging around the next move. The result is a plethora of options for limber dancers and those who only bust a move inside their heads.
The slow-fast play of accelerating and decelerating strikes, alongside monotonic chatter in »Actuations #1 (Extended)«, acclimatises the body to a uniquely sensual physics. This develops into the rudely screwed, asymmetric angularity of »Time-Slur« and the shatterproof elasticity of »Taut Manifold«, which feels like an LLM trained on Autechre.
»Low Energy Mantra« offers the EP’s closest resemblance to melodic structure, like gamelan and footwork refracted through lab-grown diamonds. Then »Anode« flashes its teeth with a rudeness recalling the latter stages of Fell’s Pat Thomas jams, before »3 Lost Contours (Pts 1–5)« tilts into 12 minutes of proper quicksilver madness, balancing the sexiness of his Sensate Focus work with an updated, clean-hoofed step and parry.
The story of each re-release begins with the original. In the late 90s, Uwe Zahn (Arovane), along with Robert Henke (Monolake) and Stefan Betke (Pole), began releasing music on Torsten Pröfrock’s (Dynamo) newly launched DIN label. This was a very inconspicuous undertaking, but fans of the flourishing IDM, glitch, and constantly evolving abstract techno genres quickly picked up on the quality of sound coming out of Germany. After a few successful EPs, Zahn began working on his debut full-length, Atol Scrap. The release was a success, at least in the underground circles, where followers of the melodic harmonies, stuttering off-beat rhythms, and, most importantly, advanced sound design feverishly consumed the imprint’s output. There was only one thing missing – the album was never pressed on vinyl, and for decades remained in the digital domain. The fans, of course, inquired. There were multiple offers on the table, but Zahn retained control until he was assured that it was properly attained. “I thought of taking everything into my own hands and releasing the record myself,” says Zahn, “but at the end of last year, Matthias from Keplar asked me to re-release Atol Scrap on vinyl.” The label and its owner revolve in the Morr Music universe, and so it made sense for Zahn to trust the platform to treat the record right.
Listening to Atol Scrap over twenty years later it is inane not to admit how well it has held up. Where other genres clearly aged, becoming stale, bland, and dull, the music on eleven tasty tracks still keeps the neurons tickled with each note. More than an echo of the past, the bottled sound truly has matured. Many of the newly evolving techniques are recognizable on the album. “I created the digital artifacts with a digital multi-track recorder, the Fostex D80,” recalls Zahn. “The thing had a scrub wheel with which I could achieve wonderful glitch effects by winding through the audio data. I have sampled and further processed these artifacts.” And this approach is still embedded in Zahn’s sound design. “I still use my 24-track analog desk from Tascam to mix my audio. I love to use hardware synths and samplers. I’ve definitely built upon my studio experience in the 90s.” From this debut to the most recent output, Arovane’s sound has evolved to become more intricate, detailed, and pronounced. “My music has become much quieter and much slower. But that’s probably also due to the noise in the world.” And just as Atol Scrap reminds Zahn of the past, retaining charm preserved in a container traveling through time, it also jitters memories of long ago, when we were twenty years younger, less experienced, and bold. For me, among the many records of the time, this album held a special place in life, my heart, and many CD boxes moved across the world. And now I’m only happy to restock the vinyl space, where Atol Scrap belongs among the beloved records. Welcome home. - Mike Lazarev
Remastered and cut to vinyl by Kassian Troyer @ D&M. Cover art by Jim Kühnel based on a photograph by Uwe Zahn.
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There are some first times you never forget. The first time one hears Syd Matters’ captivating voice is one of them.
From “End & Start Again”, his first single in 2003, Jonathan Morali’s warm, soulful vocals and timeless melodies revealed an artist in a league of his own. Success in France and abroad was immediate and has never waned.
Four albums followed between 2004 and 2011, along with a host of unforgettable songs: “Black & White Eyes”, “Obstacles”, “To All Of You” or “I Might Float” left their mark on an entire generation, racking up nearly 200 million streams and 100,000 physical sales. Drawing equally from the songwriting of the 60s, the creativity of the 70s and the modern synthetic era, Syd Matters has developed a unique musical universe, building a loyal and ever-growing audience over the years.
On stage, accompanied by his band, audiences recall intense concerts where the artist and his musicians deliver performances that were at once epic and intimate. Lush and spectacular on stage, their music never lost its center of gravity, gaining even in depth. Syd Matters toured France and Europe (England, Germany, Scandinavia...) for nearly ten years, as well as in the United States and Latin America. In 2011, the tour for his album Brother Ocean culminated in Paris at the mythical venue l’Olympia.
Jonathan Morali then took a step back from the spotlight but remained just as prolific, writing for film, theater, radio, and television and collaborating over the years with directors such Éric Rochant, Rémi Chayé, Thomas Litli, Patrick Mille, and Mélanie Laurent to name but a few. When scoring for films, the musician gives free rein to his desires and intuitions. He works with the very fabric of sounds and their underlying emotions, as if freed from the constraints imposed by the song format.
Between 2015 and 2019, he also composed the soundtracks for the remarkable video games Life Is Strange and Life Is Strange 2, which were massive global hits. Several Syd Matters tracks appeared in the game, and the success was such that it revived the band’s career, introducing their music to a new audience.
After an extended hiatus, Syd Matters will make a major comeback with a new album - their fifth - set for release in September 2026 on Créature - also home to Flora Fishbach and Chassol. They will then tour France and Europe, returning to the legendary stage of the Olympia on November 17, 2026, where they will perform their new songs. And others that we know by heart and haven’t forgotten.
Her sound remains vast and yearning, with gut-punch drums pushing through explosions of colored powder; her voice is a chrome-plated sigh, and her agile melodies soar effortlessly. - Pitchfork *BEST NEW MUSIC*
she achieves some serious cinematic grandeur. - Stereogum
Simply too sublimely crafted to ignore. - Consequence of Sound
A catchy ethereal piece of pop - Brooklyn Vegan
Rose's layered, reverb-laden vocals hit like waves of sunlight, warming her lines almost to the point of wordlessness. - Paste Magazine
"Hila. A record about loss. What persists beyond the range of ordinary perception? The place mourning keeps returning to - not quite transcendence, not quite doubt. The edge of what we can see."
Frankie Rose has spent fifteen years building one of the most quietly distinctive bodies of work in American independent music. Bursting out of the shackles of her legacy on 2024's Love As Projection, 2026's Hila builds on the muscular, dance-ready songwriting and transcendent melodies to result on Rose's most exploratory and affecting record of her career. Imbued with yearning melodies and brooding post-punk dynamics, Hila is Frankie Rose at her most impressionistic and expansive.
Self-produced at her home studio featuring collaborations with drummer Justin Welch (Elastica/Lush), Hila was recorded following extensive touring with The Jesus & Mary Chain and Swervedriver. The result is the most confident, searching music Rose has produced; muscular in its production yet emotionally vulnerable in its diffracted neon glow. A record informed by loss and the way grief mutates our senses, it's fitting that Rose channels the nuanced darkness of later Coil, at times the pounding EBM-production of Skinny Puppy and the near-spiritual alien-ness of Cocteau Twins. On Hila, the doors of perception are constantly melting, revealing the porous nature of the seen and unseen. The result is a synesthesia that flips the senses.
If Love As Projection was an outward-looking record looking to embrace the world, Hila brings the dark cosmos into inner space. Rose's love for 80s production and soaring melodies remain, they're cornerstones to her craft after all, but there's something more assured and gothic underneath the massive waves of sound. Opener Olo shimmers into a pulsating, cinematic brooder, Rose's vocal transcending and swan diving between registers in the chorus breakdowns. First single Cant Be Wrong serves as a transition from the optimistic pop of Rose's previous album, introducing a thumping 80s funk rhythm track under the soaring vocal performance. The ebullient Shadow Twin is that song's sibling, recalling major label-era Strawberry Switchblade melancholy mixed with Robin Guthrie's twinkling guitar work.
Hila blossoms darkly from here on in, blowing out into a glacial wide-screen sonic dynamic. On Rainman and the title track the listener is transported to a rain-soaked, nocturnal cityscape ridden with desire, moonlight cutting through blinds, intoxicating chasms without bounds. Rose's use of saxophone and digital synthesis recalls the nightmusic of Hats-era Blue Nile or the more ambient end of Emeralds' catalog. Indeed, in the towering synthetic cello sounds that climb into the mind on Hila, there's a distinct flavour of the instrumentals on Bowie's Low. This is musick to play in the dark, to light the way a little, just enough to trick the senses.
Leading into the strobe-filled haze, single Manifest pounds forward with a massive Industrial 4/4 beat and post-punk/goth musicality, an exercise in unlit ecstasy. For Best Of Times, the liberal saxophone passages feel like a suppressed, 80s Michael Mann soundtrack with Frankie Rose's effortless, melodic vocal performance probing, searching for connection. Navigating through the dry, iced landscape into a rising sun, closer Velvet Refrain flips the melancholy of the preceding passages. With a massive sound dripping with harmony, the clanging guitar and vocal duet feels they're sound-tracking an unexpected happy ending after bouts of darkness."
Futaishitsu Souzou is the first vinyl album released by Japanese duo la scène 裸身, a duo of Saya on vocals and bass, and Eiji on guitar. They’ve been an understated but deeply impressive presence on the Japanese underground for the best part of a decade now, having self-released a debut album, Ten No Sekido, in 2018, which saw them co-producing by Atsuo of Boris, who also worked with them on the following year’s Corridor EP. The mystery and magic of their songs, which vibrate in a curious space between psychedelic rock, acid folk and slowcore, is at its strongest on Futaishitsu Souzou.
la scène 裸身 have long been interested in art that’s stripped back to its simplest, most elemental form, much as their name represents the Japanese word ‘rashin’, which means naked body. There is something unadorned about the three songs on Futaishitsu Souzou; Saya’s becalmed, unhurried vocal delivery reflects the gentle intensity of the simple, gem-like chord changes strewn through songs like “Futaishitsu Souzou” itself, and the bittersweet, folkish lament of “Reiyou”, a song inspired by the loss of the band’s friend, Gazelle.
Futaishitsu Souzou is steeped in melancholy, but it is not resigned to this emotional state; there are threads of rebirth and transcendence woven through the album’s three lovely, slowly enveloping, and deeply moving songs. Often, you can hear that transcendence in the soaring, sky- burning guitar playing that cleaves these songs in twain, from guest guitarist Hiroshi Kurosawa (of Asylum). At times, the music here recalls the drift-like psych-rock of the Paisley Underground; elsewhere, it explodes with vibrant intensity, swarming with noise and feedback, that runs alongside similarly delirious examples from the Japanese underground.
And yet, la scène 裸身 is entirely its own thing, a unique, singular vibration, a oneiric manifestation of hermetic visionary art.
While the sterile “professionalism” of some heavy bands can be like a clinical drone strike, Texas-based Judiciary feels personal. Like close combat with a knife. And it’s all in their chemistry. Judiciary is an amalgamation of four guys raised in the intersection of metal and hardcore—all devoted to pushing their craft further. Across two esteemed LPs, the band has proven their worth as a crucial entity in the crowded heavy music scene by evolving their sound further and further with each release. And now with the band’s latest Stalagmite Angels, due on September 4th via the venerable Closed Casket Activities, Judiciary can further showcase their status as a crucial, one-of-a-kind part of the evolution of hardcore in 2026. Life changes can bring about chaos and seismic shifts, but if Stalagmite Angels is any indication, then it’s all for the better. In the wake of the release of Judiciary’s second LP Flesh + Blood, the band called upon Juan Vazquez to pick up guitar duties, thereby changing the internal framework of the band for good, and unknowingly for the better. It’s this pivot in personnel that resulted in the band’s latest EP. “The goal with this EP was a hard reset, but we also wanted to chill the f— out a bit, have fun, and do something that felt true to the four of us,” recalls drummer Austin Looney. “We wanted time to reconfigure things and let the music come naturally–temper this new mindset that we've adopted post-Flesh + Blood.” Judiciary’s greatest strength lies in their musical singularity. Though Stalagmite Angels represents the collision of influences from across well-worn territories like metallic hardcore, death metal, black metal, d-beat and more, it’s the Lubbock-born band’s approach that makes it distinctly their own. Stalagmite Angels is a wholly new document that resembles a horde of bands ranging from Hatebreed to Carcass to Slayer to Iron Age, yet never aping any single band nor even revealing any single influence. It’s all familiar but none of it is specific. “90s hardcore and hardcore in general is always gonna be our natural inclination, but it manifests with different elements not only from song to song but within each song,” says vocalist Jake Collinson emphatically, who learned guitar specifically to help with writing new material. “Whether that’s Dying Breed or Cannibal Corpse or Crowbar or Machine Head or any number of other influences that any one of us may have, it all manifests in our work, and through our individual and collective lenses. With this EP, we transformed those ideas into the Judiciary approach.” Stalagmite Angels is an EP about anger at the world, belief in yourself, and how harnessing both in the pursuit of growth is necessary to achieve. But furthermore, it’s a concept record that envisions a subterranean world in both a literal and metaphorical sense—where hidden beauty lurks in the shadows (and in the eye of the beholder) and where triumph manifests in the ability to rise from the depths and into the world above.
When Leon Michels and El Michels Affair released their rst record, Sounding Out The City, in 2005, it was hard to guess what was next for Michels and his then-introduced, now-patented "cinematic soul" sound. Now, four EMA studio albums and scores of tribute and remix projects later - all while producing for some of the biggest names in the industry - Michels has trademarked his sound, with each project taking audiences somewhere new and pushing the boundaries of what he is known for. The man is a river, not a lake and this time he takes his golden touch into the realm of hip-hop laying down a musical bed for one of the greatest to ever rhyme into a microphone: Black Thought of The Roots crew. Releasing on Big Crown Records, the LP is called Glorious Game and it is a remarkable debut partnership in more ways than one. Michels provides his bottom-heavy, soul-tinged production for Black Thought who gives us some of the more personal and transparent verses we've ever heard from him. Michels and Black Thought have been in each other's orbit for a while now. The two first met in the 2000s when Thought was first getting familiar with the contemporary soul scene. "Out of that whole world, Menahan Street Band was probably my favorite," recalling the funk and soul group Michels was a founding member of back in 2007. Fast forward a few years and musicians from that collective - Dave Guy on trumpet and Ian Hendrickson-Smith on sax - are now full time players with The Roots. This connection eventually led Leon and Thought to doing a few fundraising events around NYC and Philly together. "Before long, Black Thought was coming around the studio and would jam with us from time to time," Michels explains. "Then, fast forward to 2020 and COVID lockdowns, he just hit me up out of the blue, wanting me to send him stuff to write to. We both were looking to stay busy" Being that Black Thought is the co-founder and emcee for, hands down, the best live-band group in hip-hop. Michels took a decidedly different approach to this project and instead of sending recorded tracks of live compositions, he pulled out the sampler and sampled himself and some records from his collection. "I'm a big fan of soul music," as if Michels has to remind us. "And part of hip-hop's appeal to me has always been the sample-based production" For Glorious Game, Michels would make wholly composed and recorded soul songs in his studio, sample himself, then chop and/or loop up his sounds and create instrumentals for Black Thought. On some tracks he took a more traditional hip-hop approach, starting from samples of other people's music but then adding live instrumentation on top. But for the most part, it's him reinterpreting his own compositions into something new. The result is an organic feel of loop-based tracks that breathe and uctuate enough for Black Thought to ex on. "What I write about is determined by the equation of the producer's energy and my energy," Black Thought says. "It's about where we meet." So armed with Michels sampled and re-sampled soul cinematics, Black Thought rhymes through personal memories.
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Manonmars’ 3rd album sees him at his most amorphous and psychedelic, at points sharper and laser focused, and at others more blurred and impressionistic than his previous records. Many of the core players remain the same, all of the production is once again handled by O$VMV$M (the duo of Neek and Amos Childs of Jabu) while Paulina Korobkiewicz (also of Young Echo) makes a return handling both the album’s cover artwork and contributing a series of diaristic field recordings and voice notes.
‘The project references movies, cartoons, fictional characters and video games, among other things. The album title is open to interpretation but all of these elements are forms of visual entertainment which have their own unique ability to transcend things like language barriers and cultural divides. The visual element is key because those details bridge the gap on a communicative level.’ - Manonmars
The album blends abstract, blurred braggadocio with more immediate personal details such as on ‘Volcanic Shield’ a posse cut of sorts featuring Bristol improv luminary Dali de Saint Paul and Franco Franco (½ of cyborg rap duo Kinlaw & Franco Franco) - where Mars recalls;
‘Memories of brighter days, happy meal hit the spot
Mum was spinning vinyl playing Super Ape or Pressure Drop
I would spend the weekend with the Turkish mandem on the block
single parent household, mum was studying or on the job
money came and went always was an on and off
made it back from school time to see what’s on the box’
The beat fades away to leave one of Korobkiewicz’s recordings of Mars’ mum talking about her life in London in the 80s, spending her money on reggae records as an ambient chord fades in like an echo of a jungle intro – stretching out as a link between generations of UK music.
The production by and large is brighter and more kinetic than earlier Manonmars records – with O$VMV$M drawing on everything from modern underground rap and drill through to jazz and acid ambient passages.
London is also a central character here, bustling and constantly shifting, either when bleeding in through field recordings, or as an ever-present backdrop in the lyrics;
‘I’m a fusion of Tippa Irie and Topper Harley
Hit the target like the black Atari
I dropped a tab now shit’s A Scanner Darkly
Got the munchies, Imma yam a sarnie
Pour the Wray and Ting like man at Carni
Exit Peckham Rye and turn left, walk past Hannah Barry
Get your (w)raps up like its January’
‘I've always considered London my home, despite spending some time in the South West of England too. My mum had been living in London for 25 years (...) That was a pretty big deal in some ways because it removed us from multicultural society during the period which overlapped with my teenage years. (...) I never got used to how quiet it was in the countryside (...) Bristol was the closest city to where we lived and it was through travelling there and making connections that I became involved in making music and playing gigs.’ - Manonmars
Mars’ practice as a painter (under his given name Jack Martyn Richardson) and photographer also loom heavy over the album, he cites Paul Verhoeven, Abdul Mati Klariwein and H.R Giger as influences – as well as Miles Davis, Drakeo the Ruler and DJ Rashad.
As with much of Richardson’s work the raps at times feel blurred to a point of almost inscrutability, creating a distance between the audience and himself. A process that ties into his visual work and the way he experiences the world as mainly abstract colour without his glasses. He explores this further in an ongoing visual collaboration with Korobkiewicz, ‘Fun and Games’ which serves as a visual archive of one of London's largest and oldest travelling fairgrounds.
‘I was diagnosed with very severe short-sightedness at the age of seven. I remember my early formative years as visually blurred. Some of my photography reflects this experience of partial vision and uncertainty, referencing memory and perception rather than fixed representation.’
Manonmars’ first public outing as a rapper was at a Young Echo radio event, broadcast shambolically from a practice room just off Jamaica street, Bristol in 2011, as much as things have moved on both stylistically and in terms of focus - strong links back to the city remain a key foundation throughout the collaborations and guest appearances.
‘I have no problem with being an outsider looking in. One of the things I enjoy about London is the anonymity (...) it's easy to be a stranger here when so much is happening. I feel like thats more valuable than people may realise.’
On its latest must have release Roots Recordings takes us to the West Coast of the United States which has traditionally been a hotbed of deep, dreamy and dubby house. This is the first ever vinyl outing from Los Angeles producer Mullie Graf. There are two original cuts on show: the sub-heavy, hypnotic and increasingly acid-fired chug of 'One More Chance' and the deeper, dreamier, warmer and partially organic 'Hang On', a cut that recalls the trademark sound of San Francisco's Dubtribe Soundsystem. Fellow Californian producer Natural Rhythm provides remixes of both, following a tough, acid house-meets-dub-house pass
Soul Music legend Candi Staton returns to her down-home Alabama roots on her 32nd album, Back to My Roots. The twelve-track Americana set features an array of Staton-penned originals and some well-chosen covers.
"These songs represent my roots," Staton adds as she reflects on her many trials and triumphs. "Even the new songs on some level represent something I've experienced and that's what real soul music is about." Back to My Roots was produced by Staton with her second eldest son, Marcus Williams, a professional drummer who has toured with the likes of Peabo Bryson, Isaac Hayes, and Tyler Perry. They brought in Mark Nevers of Lambchop fame, who produced three of Staton’s prior Americana albums for Honest Jon’s and Thirty Tigers, to sweeten certain tracks. “Some of the first songs I ever heard were songs like `Peace in the Valley’ and `It’s Gonna Rain,’” says Staton. “The new songs or cover songs are tracks that remind me of that era when I was growing up as a child and evolving as a young woman. That’s why I named the album Back to My Roots because I’m going back to the roots that made me who I am.”
Staton received the Americana Music Association UK’s highest honour, the International Lifetime Achievement Award, at the UK Americana Music Awards ceremony at Hackney Church in London last year for her southern soul work that stretches from her 1969 Muscle Shoals hits to her more recent collaborations with the likes of Americana kings Jason Isbell and John Paul White.
The album opens with a mid-tempo Bonnie Raitt-styled contemporary blues “I Missed the Target Again” that finds Harry Connick Jr.’s longtime guitarist Jonathan DuBose Jr. (aka the Prophesying Guitarist) showing off his skills that set the tone for the song and the album.
Staton’s older sister, Maggie Staton Peebles (who alongside Staton was a member of the Jewel Gospel Trio in the 1950s), joins her for two duets. The first, “It’s Gonna Rain,” features just a drum, steel guitar and vocals. “My mother used to sing that song to us all the time when I was a child,” Staton recalls. “It’s a really soulful kind of song I wanted to revisit.” They then take turns leading Thomas Dorsey 1939 gem “There Will Be Peace in the Valley” that Elvis Presley popularized in the 1950s.
“Hang on in There” is a new, mid-tempo song that has an old school gospel flavour and features vocals from veteran bluesman, Larry McCray.
While in Europe in 2023 for her farewell concert tour that took her to the Glastonbury Festival and Love Supreme, Staton and her British band, PUSH, went into a London studio to record a new version of The Rolling Stones’ 1972 gem, “Shine A Light.” “I love the way that came out,” Staton says. “We put a big choir on it and put our own twist on it.”
From there, Staton revives another Thomas Dorsey classic, “The Lord Will Make a Way Somehow,” with a bluesy vibe. When Al Green started recording gospel in the early 1980s, he re-introduced this song into the culture.
“God’s Gonna Use Me Anyway” is a new mid-tempo blues with subtle Caribbean influences.
The mood takes a turn on “1963.” It’s a poignant, spoken-word reflection on September 15, 1963, when four black girls were killed in the Birmingham Church bombing. “I was in the city that day and I remember the chaos and horror after the bombing,” Staton recalls. “Just thinking of how racism and hatred caused those men to kill those girls was so emotional for me that I could only do it in one take.”
It's a perfect segue into "Reach Down and Touch Heaven," a haunting, plea for divine intervention into the affairs of mankind. "That's straight Baptist," she says. "I used to be a church pianist back in the 1960s. I've never played piano on one of my records before so that's a unique song for me because I’m finally playing on one of my records. The message of that song is about the homeless. It came to me when a homeless person on the street asked me for $5. When God touches your heart to help somebody else that’s heaven to God’s hears. So, when we reach into our purse or wallet to help someone, we’re touching heaven."
Staton offers love as an antidote to hate on the bouncy, Motown-styled, “Love Breakthrough.”
Her publicist brought Aaron Frazer & the Flying Stars of Brooklyn NY’s 2017 cut “My God Has a Telephone” to Staton’s attention. She shifts the track from a retro 1960s groove to more of a 1980s Malaco Records arrangement, a subtle but distinct variation. Staton brought in her longtime friend and STAX Records legend, William Bell (“I Forgot to Be Your Lover” and “Trying to Love Two”), to add raspy seasoning to the track.
The album closes with the wistful, “In God’s Hands We Rest Untroubled,” that was originally written and recorded by the late country star, Lari White, who died in 2017 at the age of 52. “Lari sent me that song to consider at least ten years ago and I always loved it,” Staton says. “The record label didn’t want it on the album or something, so I just held it.”
Staton says, “I grew up hearing a lot of these old songs when they were new songs. I toured with the Jewel Gospel Trio in the 1950s and we got to know people like Mahalia Jackson, Sam Cooke and others who sang these types of songs. So, I’m sort of paying tribute to them and the influence they had on me by refreshing these songs and making new songs in the old style.”’
'Where the Smoke Goes captures the conscious and unconscious of Johnny Coley in duet between 2020-2024 AD. Alabama-born, Marseille-based artist Turner Williams Jr. wraps a selection of his dear friend Johnny’s penultimate compositions in arresting tone poems.
'The music buzzes and hums with distant trains, trembling strings, and lapping water, haloing our protagonist in a humid glow as he considers whether horses can live to 70 years old, cigarettes potent enough to knock you on your ass, and orchids facing the wrath of winter storms.
'This work began in the first Covid spring, as Johnny's advancing multiple sclerosis gave way to a permanent domestic confinement and a final period of prolific creativity. Johnny braved the toxic gales of social media to share his thriving poetry and visual art practice and to keep in touch with friends like Turner, who had recently moved abroad. For the first time, Johnny recorded himself, sending Turner fresh poems, day and night.
'Taking cues from late era Coil and the operas of Robert Ashley, Turner approached these recordings both as language and pure sound, arranging accompanying mosaics that emerge as much from Johnny’s unseen text as his mercurial drawl. Tracks draw from Turner’s solo practice as well as sessions including Henry Birdsey of Old Saw, members of the French underground (Manoir Molle, Loto Retina, Mona Assayag) and close Birmingham collaborators (Jasper Lee, Jimmy Griffin, Ladonna Smith). The voice is parsed and played as an instrument and each poem becomes a score.
'There is Johnny’s poetry and Johnny’s voice. These are two independent yet interwoven instruments. For Turner, Johnny's vocabulary, cadence, and timbre carry all of the contradictions that he writes about. His work is a dialogue of rich contradictions. "He plays with Southern American vernacular speech in his poetry while embodying it with his speech, creating a zone of emotional frisson. He loved combining opposites. Rough yet soft was one of his favourite descriptors", Turner recalls, "That was Johnny. ” Upon hearing the completed record, Johnny likened it to "a beautiful wood box, that when you open it there are fabrics shot through with silk threads and sharp fall woods smells - supporting and decorating the poems that fall out of them. ”
'This record captures something unconscious, atmospheric, and gives it unexpected materiality. Smoke that you can feel like grass under your feet. Stars that you can touch like a lover. Meeting for the final time in the summer or 2025, the time for words had passed so they just held hands and listened to the album opener Stargazer in silence as Johnny drifted off to sleep.'
Gulp Joachim Nordwall’s queasiest, most curdled synth tones on this supremely detuned co-op with Athens’ Stellage crew = 45 minutes of pure nasal-drip tang and gungy pulses tipped FFO Connor Camburn, Wolf Eyes, Conrad Schnitzler, Ilpo Väisänen’s Liima alltimers.
Joachim Nordwall’s 1st solo jaunt since capping the ‘Healing Music’ series in ’23 finds the DIY linchpin and serial collaborator coaxing potently psychoactive tones from an undisclosed set up. It appears to be one of his most intently focussed jags in recent memory, concentrated on juicing a paucity of ingredients for optimal flavour. Nothing that new then? Well, aye, but when he really gets into it, with an effect that really probes parts of the psyche untouched by anything we’ve heard from him before, he produces synaesthetic sounds that frankly makes our ears salivate.
A starting exercise in plucky pulse-work recalling Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe initiates a real descent into the nether regions of Nordwall’s imagination, pulling into sepulchral drone on ‘Trance Recording’ and Droog wet dream material on ‘Abandoned Test Site’, while allowing for some levity in the lacquer-crackling pulse poem ‘Expand Your Mind’. However, he soon pitches back into resonant, metallic sonorities with durational conviction on a ‘Some Skies Overlap’ bringing to mind Connor Camburn works, but with an icier edge, and his title track spews molten drums in a rumbling, spark-spitting torrent.
A new solo album from Seu Jorge reveals his 'other side' on this new solo album featuring Beck and Maria Rita. Produced by Mario Caldato Jr. (Beastie Boys), the album moves between jazz and bossa nova and is the result of a 16-year musical journey.
Seu Jorge is ready to present to the world the most ambitious project of his international career. After 16 years in the making, “The Other Side” finally arrives on streaming platforms in May. A departure from the soul and samba that defined his solo career, the new album is a sophisticated orchestral celebration of Brazilian music, moving between jazz and bossa nova.
The seed for this meeting between the Brazilian soul and orchestral sophistication was planted by a longtime friend and admirer: the legendary producer Mario Caldato Jr., known for his work with the Beastie Boys and Jack Johnson. The partnership, however, goes back further. “It’s not often that you find a voice and talent as vibrant and powerful as Seu Jorge’s. That’s what I felt in 1999, when I met him in Los Angeles,” recalls Caldato. “Since then, our friendship and admiration have only grown, allowing us to create music together with total freedom.”
The spark for “The Other Side” came from a moment of pure sensitivity. “This album was born when I recorded Jorge playing a simple version of ‘Girl You Move Me,’ by the band Cane and Able, on a nylon-string guitar. The performance was very sensitive and dynamic, which moved me deeply,” says the producer.
It was then that Caldato had the idea to invite multi-instrumentalist and arranger Miguel Atwood-Ferguson to orchestrate that demo. The partnership, which began in 2009, blossomed organically. “I shared some ideas with Miguel, and he understood perfectly, creating a beautiful arrangement that elevated the song to a much more luxurious and sophisticated dimension. That experience planted the seed for this orchestral adventure. "
With his characteristically deep, velvety voice, Seu Jorge guides the listener through a repertoire that revives gems of MPB. The artist cites as references the catalog of the German label ECM Records and the arrangements of Claus Ogerman, a conductor who worked with Tom Jobim and João Gilberto.
Recorded in stages between 2009 and 2018, the album is a true work of musical
craftsmanship, created with calm and friendship. The live rhythmic foundations were
provided by Seu Jorge’s band. “Jorge has a lot of confidence in and pride for his musicians, allowing them to express themselves freely. Each one brings a special flavor to every song; this was their album too, ” notes Caldato Jr.
“It was a week of pure joy for me and for all of us, recording and capturing that magical spirit and vibe,” adds the producer, who saw the work come together with arrangements by Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. “When it came time for mixing, everything felt very natural. The album revealed itself and came together magnificently. For me, it’s a timeless album.”
The album features covers of songs such as “Crença” by Milton Nascimento (from his 1969 debut album); “Caboclo” by Arthur Verocai, in a version with psychedelic guitars; and, of course, “Girl You Move Me” by the Canadian band Cane & Able, which inspired the project. Among the tracks featuring guest artists, “Vento de Maio” by Márcio Borges (a hit with Lô Borges and Elis Regina) features an intense duet with Maria Rita. Another major collaboration is with American singer Beck, a self-proclaimed fan of Brazilian music and Grammy winner. Together, they perform “River Man” by the revered British singer Nick Drake.
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In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.
Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.
The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.
At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.
Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."
Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.
out of Stock
Last delivered 3 months ago available to reorder, subject to availability
In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.
Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.
The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.
At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.
Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."
Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.
out of Stock
Last delivered 3 months ago available to reorder, subject to availability
In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.
Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.
The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.
At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.
Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."
Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.
out of Stock
Last delivered 3 months ago available to reorder, subject to availability
Maria is the debut album from renowned Brazilian electric bassist and composer Moyses Dos Santos. A homecoming for the London-based artist, Moyses’ debut reconnects him with his North-Eastern roots while assembling an international cast of collaborators including legendary Brazilian arranger Arthur Verocai, US trumpet sensation Theo Croker and London-based vocal star Lynda Dawn.
After relocating from Brazil to London in the early 2000s, Moyses dos Santos quickly became one of the capitals’ most in-demand players, sharing stages, studios, and writing credits with best-selling artists including Nile Rodgers, Janelle Monáe, Emile Sandé, Gregory Porter and Omar.
In 2022, Moyses toured with Brazilian jazz-funk legends Azymuth, completing the rhythm section alongside Brazilian drumming master Ivan "Mamão" Conti. "It felt like he was my wise Brazilian grandfather figure." Moyses recalls. "When you spend so many years working internationally, you unconsciously start to leave certain parts of yourself behind. Mamão encouraged me to reconnect with Brazilian music, and that's where this record really began."
Brazil’s North-east, where African, indigenous and European traditions collided and fused most intensely, produced a musical heritage unlike anything else on earth, Moyses dos Santos is a product of this syncretism. On Maria, named after his mother, Moyses brings the musical vocabularies of his youth to the fore. From the soul of the church band where he began to learn his trade as a musician, to the rolling batucadas – maractus, baiaos, sambas and frevos – which he played throughout his teenage years.
Drawing on the lineage of North American electric bass giants like George Duke, Jaco Pastorius, and Stanley Clarke, Moyses runs Brazilian musical traditions through jazz, funk, soul and disco: his sound charged with the cosmopolitan energy of London's contemporary jazz scene.
Lead single and album opener “Boa Viagem’ is joyous, carnivalesque dancefloor jazz: a timeless groove for the nightclub and street party alike. Calling directly to a higher power “Brazilian Spirit” is an astral-jazz phenomenon, featuring the transcendent trumpet playing of Grammy nominated Theo Croker. On “Saudade” Moyses calls upon iconic Brazilian maestro Arthur Verocai, whose signature string arrangements cascade around the divine vocals of ascendant London artist Lynda Dawn.
With impeccable style, charisma, warmth and virtuosity, Moyses steps forward with his stunning debut Maria: out on vinyl, LP, CD and digitally on the 12th June 2026.
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LUCKY is the self-titled debut album by the San Francisco band, born of a collaboration between songwriters Andrew St James (French Cassettes, Juan Wayne) and Peter Kegler (Half Stack). Now a full band featuring, the group combines anthemic indie-rock with y’allternative twang, the perfect soundtrack for long drives and late night revelries.
The story begins when St James booked Kegler’s band Half Stack for a show with Juan Wayne at the Rickshaw Stop in San Francisco. The two immediately recognized each other as kindred spirits and before long they were spending late nights at The Lucky Horseshoe in Bernal Heights, where they pledged to make an album together. Much like Lennon-McCartney or Jagger-Richards, St James and Kegler showed up with their own songs and helped each other dial them in, the songs becoming something totally unique in the process. Pretty soon they recruited Elsasser and headed into the studio with producer Joe Santarpia (Mac DeMarco), where they blazed through more than half a dozen songs in a few days, capturing first takes of raw energy.
Album opener “Falling Through”, written by Kegler on a long drive over HWY 17 to Santa Cruz, pairs talkin’ country vocals on the verse with a hard hitting chorus, eventually ramping up to a phased out guitar solo and a truly epic bridge with gang vocals and an ad lib from St James. Meanwhile, lead single “Traveler” was the first song written for the album, originally a folky shuffle, St James thought it was a goner but Kegler helped recast it as a mid-tempo rocker with a twangy alt-country edge. “Friends” is a true-to-life account of St James’ lifestyle as he shuttled between San Francisco and Los Angeles, paying homage to the City’s legendary House of Prime Rib with a propulsive beat that recalls Girls, Kings of Leon, and the grandiose energy of the E Street Band.
Highly anticipated debutalbum from LUCKY. Press coverage includes reviews and features in Various Small Flames, Glide Magazine, Broken Dreams Club, and more.
“...equal parts laidback swagger and earnest emotion…” - Various Small Flames
“LUCKY is becoming one of the most exciting figures to emerge in alt-country in some time.” - Glide Magazine.
In those early conversations, when I laid out the future I sought to create, and recall sharing the concept of a stripped, atmospheric interpretation, supported by the haunting resonance of strings-- cello or violin. At the time, the notion was met with skepticism, perhaps even dismissal. Yet it was an idea I knew would one day take form. It had to. UADA has always drawn from a wide spectrum of influences--many of which extend far beyond the traditional boundaries of black metal. With Interwoven, we sought to peel back the layers and reveal the vastness of these realms; to immerse the listener in both the foreign and the familiar, in textures that challenge and comfort in equal measure.
ROCK JUSTICE is a new hard rock/metal act featuring singer Maggy Luyten (Ayreon, Beautiful Sin, The Prize, ex-Nightmare) and guitarist Bas Maas (Doro, After Forever).
The upcoming debut album, You’ve Been Served, is the result of Bas Maas’s long-held dream. He teamed up with Maggy Luyten to shape the powerful, driving sound of ROCK JUSTICE. The album blends varied song styles, tied together by a nostalgic vibe and well-crafted production.
“The idea came to life when I was still playing in After Forever, where I didn’t get a serious chance to contribute to the songwriting. I had written a couple of songs that didn’t make the cut and realized that if I wanted to get my own music out there, I’d have to do it myself, or at least with other people,” says Bas. When he decided to form a band, he had two rules: he wouldn’t sing himself, and it wouldn’t be a female singer. Finding the right guy proved impossible and after several try-outs, one name kept coming up: Maggy Luyten. “Mag’s voice completely blew me away. I thought, ‘This chick sings like a dude and she delivers.’ Not long after that, we met at an Ayreon album presentation in Utrecht. She wanted to hear my songs to see if they inspired her. They did.” The rest is history. Maggy recalls with a smile: “When Bas came over to hear what I’d worked on, we both knew we had something. I still picture him driving back home: window down, our demo blasting, arm out, metal horns up, huge smile!”
At the dawn of European techno, before the genre had fully taken shape, a small number of records hinted at what was to come—stripped-down, machine-driven and forward-looking. One of those records was “Die Zukunft” by Scope, a project formed by André Fischer (Recall IV) and Holger Wick (Konzept).
Originally released in 1989 on the now cult Suck Me Plasma label—founded by Talla 2XLC—"Die Zukunft” holds a special place in history as the label’s first release, marking a key moment in the transition from EBM and New Beat into early techno.
Scope’s sound captures this transitional phase with remarkable clarity. Built on minimal drum machine patterns, cold synthetic basslines and sparse melodic fragments, their music sits somewhere between late-80s electronic body music and the emerging techno aesthetic. Driven more by repetition and tension than by traditional song structures, the tracks create a hypnotic, forward-moving energy that reflects the experimental spirit of the time.
This reissue of “Die Zukunft”, limited to 500 copies on black vinyl and 200 copies on purple vinyl, brings together all original tracks from the first pressing alongside the iconic Cybotron Mix, offering a complete snapshot of Scope’s output at a pivotal moment in electronic music history.
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DJ Pone returns to his roots with Bass Culture (out March 6, 2026), a new 19-minute mixtape. A renowned turntablist, DJ Pone delivers an immersive and mesmerizing mix. Following his success with Birdy Nam Nam, he has released several genre-blurring projects, including the cinematic Radiant and the deeply introspective 1978. These albums showcase a producer with a meticulous ear for detail, atmosphere, texture, and storytelling—at times overshadowing the full extent of his talent and charisma behind the decks. With this new release, he reconnects with his first love: sound collage, razor-sharp cuts, and the magic of real-time manipulation. The mix fuses a burst of tracks into a seamless journey, punctuated by precise breaks and UK and tropical inflections. The sound design feels both cathartic and transient—a subtle blend of beats and sonic landscapes that echo and dissolve into one another with remarkable finesse. From an opening manifesto paying tribute to DJ Shadow and DJ Qbert to a rawer section infused with urbex textures, recalling the energy of Company Flow, Pone crafts a narrative that is as thoughtful as it is intensely joyful—yet paradoxically soothing. Mostly instrumental but never lacking soul, Bass Culture is filled with glitched melodies and vocal samples, echoes of his recent travels to Barcelona and beyond. The project stands as a personal, tactile canvas—instinctive and unembellished—pushing back against an era dominated by digital excess. It resonates as a true statement of faith in the art of DJing, reminding us that, even as a producer, DJ Pone’s touch on vinyl remains grounded and almost magnetic, far removed from today’s passing trends.
On her second album, Sawt El Doumouh (The Sound of Tears), Beirut-based Sandy Chamoun summons flickers of light from sadness. Influences from the Arabic tradition of Tarab – one of the first styles Chamoun learnt to sing – and polyphonic Cantu are reinterpreted and reimagined through her voice and electronics, synths from her SANAM and Ghadr bandmate Anthony Sayhoun, and live percussion from Ali Hout.
Marked by its times, the record isn’t what Chamoun had planned. “I wrote the lyrics between October 2023 and September 2025,” she explains. “The plan was to write about nature, since the album’s concept was inspired by Cantu, a tenor Sardinian ritual that celebrates humanity’s victory over nature. I intended to visit several places and regions in Lebanon and write a track for each, but after the genocide and the war in Lebanon, everything changed.”
“I chose the title because many mornings during this period I woke up crying silently. I remember a dark story from school: a teacher yelled at a small boy while he was crying and told him to cry without making any sound. I feel we are still living in that condition in the region — forced to die or suffer without making any noise.”
Sawt El Doumouh is a gorgeous refusal to be silent. It opens with a booming drum. Over keening autotune Chamoun’s pure voice cuts through, burying the despair to illuminate rays of hope. On “Ward W Shok” a shuffling swing gives way to a righteous organ interlude. The title track sees a choir of Chamoun’s vocals lull and lap. Drums arrive and indignation stirs, what’s mournful begins to stride.
Chamoun’s tracks are as beautiful as they are defiant. Why write songs in the face of horror? Perhaps because music can hold onto something better. By turning to song, Chamoun catches the hopeful glints and sparks that persist and strive outside the terror. In SANAM and Ghadr she often borrows lyrics from Arabic writers through the centuries, listening to what their words say in the present while reminding us the world can and has been different to how it is now. Solo she writes her own words, and the way her songs alternately soar and sigh evokes hopeful pluralities and suggestions of other, kinder realities. Even hearing someone cry is a connection to humanity.
It’s a possibility conveyed in the album’s most jubilant moments. “Shahed” is an incandescent dance of percussion and levitating synths. “I wrote it after I saw a photo of a small boy on a horse on the beach in Gaza,” Chamoun recalls. “I imagined a fantasy where the boy lives in the water and watches the terrifying reality on the shore, trying to bring water to put out the fire. Shahed is the witness who lives far from the shore, enjoying the water and trying to help. You can hear this duality: the percussion is desert-like, while the vocals and synths evoke the feeling of water.”
Although it comes from darkness, in Chamoun’s music we can hear faith in something beyond it.
Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.
Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.
Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.
Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.
By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.
Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.
Originally released in 2014 on cassette and digital only, Till Human Voices Wake Us was the first album by the Iranian artist on Umor Rex. It became a key work in our catalog, and now, 12 years later, it is available on vinyl for the first time. This is the first in a series of four special, limited reissues to be released in 2026 to mark the 20th anniversary of Umor Rex.
Till Human Voices Wake Us comprises ten tracks with a clear and carefully structured script, based on poems by T.S. Eliot, highlighting Siavash Amini’s work as a composer for theater, film, and art exhibitions. His music deliberately leans toward ambient expressions, at times recalling Morricone’s Western film scores. The interplay between synthetic and digital elements, together with multilayered, soul-healing electric guitar passages, creates an opulent sonic texture that moves between dramatic and melancholic moments with a finely constructed, fluid dynamism.
There is an emotional depth in each piece, guided by tonal variations and shifting textures that turn the music into a mental journey, with landscapes, a sense of cold resolution, and the quiet inevitability of an ending. Till Human Voices Wake Us was Amini’s first album on a non-Iranian label. Following this release, he has also published work, in addition to Umor Rex, on labels such as Room40, Hallow Ground, and Opal Tapes, among others, and is now considered one of the most prominent figures in Iran’s experimental music scene.
All music by Siavash Amini. Original master by Nicholas Szczepanik. Remastered for vinyl by Rafael Anton Irisarri. Artwork by Daniel Castrejón.
"Already established within Iran’s music scene, Siavash Amini has crafted a powerful signature sound that blends meticulously assembled ambient synthesis with languid electric guitar melodies, recalling Lanois and Eno’s classic Apollo." — THE QUIETUS (Tristan Bath)
Kicking off the collection, we have POISON IDEA performing their first ever gig as a high-velocity punk band on New Years Eve 1980 – truly an incredible find. “We put our gear in shopping carts and pushed it to the venue” Jerry recalls as well as the reaction from Portland’s first wave of hardcore kids, “They only had 30 seconds in a song to throw each other around and pogo, so they’d go for it. It came naturally, like the music possessed them”. The embryonic versions presented here of future POISON IDEA classics like “Give It Up” and “Castration” are played in a more quirky and herky-jerky manner than how they would appear three years later on their debut seven-inch EP, Pick Your King. This recording also holds the most unfiltered display of Germs vocalist Darby Crash’s influence on Jerry. “His voice gave me the license to go” states Jerry. “You didn’t have to be a trained singer. Just open up your soul and scream”.
The remainder of this release is culled from a recording done in June of 1981 at a birthday party for Kim Kincaid, vocalist for local punk group, Neo Boys. The event was held at the short-lived but groundbreaking punk venue for Portland, Clockwork Joe’s. “Clockwork Joe’s was like Peter Pan’s island of lost boys” Lang recollects, “There was a lot of booze, a lot of drugs and a lot of young kids”. Hearing this ferocious, tightly-wound set, one can only imagine the sweaty debauchery that occurred that night, especially during the pounding rendition of “Underage” presented here, yet another future Pick Your King track.
Some grooves don’t rush to the dancefloor — they crawl there, slow and heavy, like smoke wrapping around a bassline. With Fragments of Reality, The Balek Band sculpt an electronic funk that lives between shadow and light — an end-of-the-world fever dream, a Barjavel-style Ravage where chaos turns nihilistic.
No sequencer grid here — just four musicians sharing the same room, shaping air and tension together: drums locked tight with a slap bass, a guitar dripping with echo and heat, and a one-man orchestra behind his machines, weaving acid lines and synth arpeggios while mixing the band live — drenching it in delay, reverb, and saturation, like a dub producer in a Kingston studio, Lee Scratch Perry or King Tubby conjuring ghosts through smoke.
This isn’t fusion — it’s friction. A living ritual where the TB-303 hums, and machines don’t dominate but converse with the human pulse. Each track feels like a night that refuses to end — that humid in-between where trance slips into languor, and the body starts to think for itself.
The record recalls the cosmic jazz of Alain Mion or Eddy Louiss meeting the fiery energy of West African afrobeat musicians freshly arrived in a smoky Belleville basement in the mid-’80s. When The Balek Band summon ghosts, it’s only to reshape them — bending the past into something futuristic, alive, and strangely refreshing. Both disciplined and delirious, Fragments of Reality feels like a promise at dawn: dark funk for the late hours, slow acid for warm blood.
This EP isn’t nostalgic, though it remembers. It’s a transmission from a parallel past — a moment when jazz players met drum machines and decided never to stop playing. Each note sweats, each rhythm breathes. You can almost see the light cutting through the haze, faces half-awake, half-possessed.
The Balek Band aren’t recreating a moment — they’re keeping it alive.
Flesh and cables. Impulse and patience.
A band, not a loop.
A trip, not a format.
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“Tako” means “octopus”, “kite”, and even “bunion” in Japanese. Bald men or men with shaven heads, as well as red-faced, staggering drunks, are also referred to as “tako”. It’s a word that appears in a lot of slang and sayings. Taco is also the name of an 80s music and performance collective whose performances were like nothing before or since. The Japanese band Taco, formed at the beginning of the 80s, is a loose group/collective of varying members that belongs to the post-punk alternative music movement. The network of members were all friends and acquaintances of Harumi Yamazaki, ex-member of Gaseneta and Taco’s central member.
Taco can be described as a band of guerrillas who, over the years, continued to connect, collect, interrupt, and scatter while sending out into the world music and sounds that can best be described as transient. Taco also performed without Harumi, and so it is as though the band is an anonymous group of mercenaries. Taco’s first album was released in 1983 and had a huge impact on Japan’s underground music scene as an anomalous and collaborative album involving various participating artists (the stars of Japan’s underground music scene!) and Harumi, who provided the lyrics. Although each track represents a reverberating conglomeration of sounds created by this transient local network, common to all the tracks are Harumi’s expressive lyrics. This has the effect of transforming all the tracks into a single powerful force which, in turn, spawns an “incident” which spreads like a giant ripple. However, because of another incident in which the records were recalled due to the scandal caused by some of the lyrics, only a limited number of people actually own a copy of the album. Taco’s second album (a 12” EP), released in 1984, features a live recording of a performance that was held at the end of 1982. Taco is a band of indeterminate members which only ever played one-off performances, but this is an album that reveals a unit whose performance was unusually musically coherent. This is an album which effectively conveys the power of Taco’s astounding and legendary live performances, as well as Harumi’s inflammatory, sensational, and masochistic presence on stage. Her mutterings and screams, which practically ignore the detached beat, confront the audience like an overwhelming groundswell.
The following is a description of Taco by one of its members following one of its live performances: “Taco’s like a project where the indeterminate participants fan each other’s heightened emotions of wanting to wreak personal revenge and retribution. It’s an ecosystem of tangible and intangible mouldy slime which accumulates in order for emotions to be acted out, both indoors in the studio, or outdoors on stage. That’s why the avenger can often end up being the victim.”
Faitiche welcomes a new artist: Christina Kubisch belongs to the first generation of sound artists. Her practice ranges from performances, concerts, to works with video and visual art, but she is best known for her sound installations and electro-acoustic compositions.
TUNING brings together three pieces by Christina Kubisch from different periods of her oeuvre. What they have in common is the way they transform sound phenomena originally considered “non-music” into compositions.
Jan Jelinek: Gaming in Silence (2024) is the most recent work on this compilation. It’s a collage of electromagnetic waves, voice, and abstract sound textures. How did this combination come about?
Christina Kubisch: Gaming was commissioned as a fixed-media composition for the Sound Dome at ZKM Karlsruhe. Since Resonances: The Electromagnetic Bodies Project (2005), I’ve been making recordings in the old and new server rooms at the ZKM and in their permanent collection of historical computer games. Computer games like Asteroids (Atari, 1979) and Poly-Play (VEB Polytechnik, 1986) have specially generated analogue electromagnetic waves that interest me in particular on account of their density, rhythms and textures. I originally studied painting and to me the work of composition often feels like painting an abstract picture. I alter my source material as little as possible, layering and overlapping until a distinctive sound space emerges. In recent pieces, I sometimes combine magnetic waves with field recordings or live instruments. In Gaming it’s my recording of a Chinese song about silence.
JJ: Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004) is a recording from your Electrical Walks series. Here we should give a brief explanation of one of your best known works: participants in an Electrical Walk move through public spaces wearing prepared headphones that allow them to receive electromagnetic waves from their surroundings – for example from security gates, ATMs or neon signs. They discover a situation that normally is inaudible to the human ear and they can actively shape it by choreographing their movements. I really admire this piece, not least because there’s no clear dividing line between participants and artist. What exactly do we hear in Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004)?
CK: With this early work, I wanted to understand what is heard by people participating in an Electrical Walk in the same place but moving in different ways. The Spanish composer Miguel Alvarez-Fernàndez and I set off from opposite ends of a major shopping street in Madrid, met briefly in the middle, and then continued to the end. We both recorded our walks and I then layered them over one another. You might call it a work of electromagnetic conceptualism.
JJ: Diapason (2009 version) is an installation that plays a composition based on sounds from fifteen tuning forks. This setting is audible in the recording: there’s no dramatic arc, no beginning or end – instead, it recalls a piece of aleatoric music focussing on the decay phase. How did you come to make this work and could you tell us something about your compositional method?
CK: Diapason is part of a series of three pieces that deal with “non-instruments” or instruments that no longer exist: electrical mine bells used to send signals to the workers underground; a historical glass harmonica originally used for medicinal purposes; and tuning forks that were used by doctors to test people’s hearing. All of these methods are no longer in use. The sound of the tuning forks, audible only if held close to the ear, was recorded at the electronic studio at Berlin’s Technical University in such a way that even their decay remained audible. The frequencies range between 64 and 2048 Hertz and they can be adjusted at micro-intervals using small movable weights. The sequence and the duration of the pauses are dictated by chance and were not defined in advance. The 2009 version was created for an installation in the historic Holy Cross Church (Korskirken) in Bergen. Visitors could enter and leave the space at any time, deciding for themselves where and for how long they wished to listen to the sounds played back over an array of small loudspeakers placed on the floor of the apse.
Credits:
Gaming in Silence: commission of the ZKM/Hertzlab, Karlsruhe 2023
elektronic sound processing: Tom Thiel
sound engineering and mixing: Eckehard Güther
Diapason: produced at Elektronisches Studio of TU Berlin
rearrangement: Eckehard Güther
Christina Kubisch, published by Edition Christina Kubisch / Random Musick Publishing
image front: Transitionen 2021 by C. Kubisch, sonagrams of electronic waves (courtesy: Galerie Mazzoli Berlin)
image back: Diapason Tuning Fork, property of Folkmar Hein, Photo: Archiv Christina Kubisch
design by Tim Tetzner
mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi
Thanks to Miguel Álvarez-Fernández, Folkmar Hein, Dominik Kautz and Mario Mazzoli
First time reissue of JP free jazz rarity, pre-Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai group.
The single album self-released by the quartet Shūdan Sokai in 1977 is one of the most vital documents of mid-seventies Japanese free jazz, documenting Tokyo’s free scene at the precise moment when it began to shift to a handful of tiny venues on the western fringes of the city. In Free Jazz in Japan, Teruto Soejima identifies the extant venue Aketa no Mise in Nishi-Ogikubo as the pioneer of this decamping from the centre: a cramped basement beneath a rice shop, seating just 20 people. Musician-run, operated on a shoestring, these spaces offered a vital site for community, creativity, and a small measure of financial independence — “even though it was in a basement, in spirit it was a loft.”
Among the most active of the new venues was Alone in Hachiōji, nearly an hour from Shinjuku, in a district shaped by universities, lower rents, and a thriving counterculture. Originally opened in 1973 as a jazu kissa, Alone was unusually spacious and equipped with a stage, grand piano, and drum kit. Around 1974, Junji Mori and Yasuhiro Sakakibara began working there, booking free jazz players on weekends and establishing the venue as a crucial hub. Mori recalls early appearances by figures including Kazutoki Umezu, Toshinori Kondo, and others who would define the scene.
In early 1976, Umezu and pianist Yoriyuki Harada — recently returned from New York’s loft jazz environment, where they had played with musicians such as David Murray and William Parker — formed Shūdan Sokai with Mori and drummer Takashi Kikuchi. The name, meaning “mass evacuation,” pointed to their self-chosen exile in Hachiōji. With Alone as their home base, the quartet developed a music characterized by an infectious sense of enjoyment and a willingness to integrate free jazz with elements of song structure. Harada switched between piano and bass; the group experimented with rap-like vocal pieces, jabbering nursery rhymes over bass rhythms.
They returned to Alone on December 24 to record Sono zen’ya (Eve), releasing it on their own Des Chonboo Records, partially funded by advertisements from local businesses printed on the rear cover. The closing “Ballad for Seshiru,” dedicated to Harada’s newborn son, unfolds over a delicate piano melody that moves into emphatic chords as intertwining alto lines rise and spiral.
Alone closed in September 1977, and Shūdan Sokai soon dissolved, later morphing into the expanded Seikatsu Kōjyō Iinkai Orchestra. What remains is a recording rooted in a specific place and moment: a fiercely independent scene sustained by small rooms, close listening, and collective commitment.
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Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.
Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.
It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.
The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.
The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.
In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”
It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”
The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.
Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.
So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.
They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.
Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.
But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.
So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!
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As with the band’s 2023 release of the same name, Refreshing Part 2 is a decisive and fierce collection of percussive techno that nonetheless travels its path with a heightened level of funkiness.
The Italian duo describe the concept behind this collection as being “not about resetting, but about balancing. Refreshing means reconnecting with the present and with the future…focusing on one’s own way in order to prevent the flow from becoming automatic, uncontrolled, and
without orientation. It is more a direction than a path.”
The four tracks on the 12” are hypnotic dives into a full spectrum of club music: the rhythms and sound design guiding the subconscious into visions of past, present and future intermingled, a reminder that all moments co-exist simultaneously.
Side A passes from the stripped-down intensity of The Way through to Elisir (Elixir), which manages to pull off a trick of feeling light and floaty while maintaining the power of its predecessor. The flip side opens with the forceful drive of Activate before making way to the
percussive elasticity of Family Tree, a track which closes out the EP by recalling, in both name and sound, how that which came before deeply affects the now, though often in ways only subliminally perceived.
Digital-only track Fixed in Flux continues this concept, and the overall themes of Refreshing Part 2, with further evocations of intent and movement; remaining present in change, without resisting it, yet without dissolving into it.
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Anton Toorell’s second solo album, Solos II, deepens and intensifies the six-string language introduced on his 2022 debut, Solos. Rather than widening his scope, the Swedish guitarist, composer and producer sharpens his focus, homing in on the physical and sonic relationship between player, instrument and tuning. The result is three extended pieces of cascading tonality that feel disciplined yet light, their conceptual frameworks always secondary to the luminous sounds Toorell draws from two guitars.
Throughout Solos II, Toorell explores both the guitar’s potential for silvery, sometimes clashing textures and his own physical engagement with the instrument. Across ‘Volta’, ‘Cripta’ and ‘Scala’, he plays two guitars simultaneously: one fretted with the left hand using hammer-ons and pull-offs, while the right hand activates mostly open strings on a guitar resting in his lap. Despite the inherent complexity of this approach, the music never feels busy or demonstrative. Technique remains a quiet servant to Toorell’s compositional instincts and improvisational sensitivity.
The album leaves space for unplanned resonances and happy accidents, yet its structures are clear, resilient and finely balanced. The seventeen-minute ‘Volta’ unfolds as a shimmering continuum, its repeated figures gently reshaped through minute inflections, creating a sensation of constant motion. ‘Cripta’ spirals inward, cycling hypnotically in a way that recalls both Terry Riley’s iterative minimalism and the hallucinatory guitar loops of early Seefeel.
With the closing ‘Scala’, the recording environment comes fully into view. Captured in a 16th-century wine cellar at Palazzo Stabile in Piemonte, Italy, the room functions as a guiding presence and an implicit third instrument. Toorell tuned the guitars in response to the cellar’s reverberant character, seeking configurations that would open up the space itself.
New “Inversions” of drone rock pioneers Earth’s debut release. A collaboration between Dylan Carlson and Black Noi$e (Armand Hammer, Danny Brown, Earl Sweatshirt) formed in mutual respect and appreciation for one another. Both artists were intrigued by the creation of vast musical landscapes and the connection of music, with its ability to transport the listener. The music of Earth was recognised and celebrated for moving at a glacial pace and yet this new collaboration surprisingly saw Black Noi$e slowing things down even further.
The debut, which originally came out in 1991, notably featured Kelly Canary and Kurt Cobain on vocals on the tracks “A Bureaucratic Desire for Revenge Part 2” and “Divine and Bright”. Black Noi$e reimagines the original recordings with his experimental sensibility and innovative multi-instrumental, cross genre exploration. Applying contemporary electronics to the heavy droning bass and guitars and languid rhythms, this inversion oscillates and reverberates with a different kind of energy whilst simultaneously highlighting the much loved low slow and distorted properties of the original.
‘Extra Capsular Extraction’ was the first music Dylan made with Earth and his first time in a recording studio, which he recalls at the time as being “terribly exciting”. It also marked the first time collaborating with others and seeing it reified into a tangible object or product, a spirit that Dylan has carried through to the present. The original album is a document of a specific period and Dylan’s creative development. These inversions of Extra Capsular Extraction are, to quote Dylan, “an exciting way to reintegrate them into the present time and with my more expanded conceptions of musical endeavours”.
"Doom-metal innovators" Pitchfork.
"With guitars ramped up to the nth degree, but tuned to gut-wrenchingly low frequencies, Earth carved out a veritable canyon of pure molten drone, one which would have a profound influence on modern metal music." The Quietus
"Since their formation in the latter half of 2023, Berlin’s Industry have quickly emerged into the foreground as one of the more exciting groups of the European DIY punk scene. Having released their 2024 debut LP, touring and playing festivals all over the continent, they are now back with a follow up record that’s every bit as bruising and bleak as the first.
Much has been made of how ‘on point’ Industry sound - a mid-paced cocktail of heavy toms and churning riffs recalling ‘No Sanctuary’ era Amebix or classic Killing Joke. But Industry use these sounds as a springboard rather than a template, utilising the form for genuine expression where others are tempted by retro cosplay. Their sound is pared back, pulsing, relentless but danceable. But it’s the words that result in a listen that’s engaging from start to finish, an album that’s both expressive and polemic. Just as people often describe Discharge’s lyrics as Haiku, Industry uses the band’s repetitive grooves as a wide-open canvas on which their exasperated observations are given space to land with precision. The litany of criticisms are familiar to us all - violence exacted on the poor and vulnerable by those in power, the ongoing industrialised slaughter of humans and animals, the disastrous consequences of colonialism, the list goes on… The world in 2025 is fucked, and even though they say they ‘can’t even look’, this band has got their eyes wide open."
