Cerca:recollect

Compiled onto one vinyl album for the first time, Landlocked (Numbers, 2026) presents Hallucinator’s 1999 debut album originally released under Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald’s label Chain Reaction. Writing much surrounding the culture of what would be later considered ‘Dub Techno’ and its’ primary distribution center, Hard Wax, leads one down roads of shifting primary sources and decades old overheard smoke break recollections. Maybe brevity primes the listener to the paralinguistic to approach the sound on its terms; focusing on how things are uttered and not what.

This theory will remain unconfirmed. Hallucinator original press release left us with three or so gestures to consider over the years since:

“A new act on CHAIN REACTION”s distinct productional thesis. HALLUCINATOR are 3 people from he UK/London and this their first release ever- that’s all what the artists want to let us know…. This record is dedidacted to the memory of Stephen Lawrence!”

The first gesture is one of personnel. Since ’99, we’ve gotten to learn a bit more about the artists behind the Hallucinator project. All London-based, all writers, composers, and sound-designers— Anna Piva, Edward George, Trevor Mathison. These three seem to flow between parameters as aesthetic tactic and tacit structure to the work itself. For example, other collaborative shapes have come from this lineup including Flow Motion (Piva, George and Mathison) as well as the now defunct Black Audio Film Collective of which George and Mathison are founding members.

The second gesture is in the second line of the previous press release, “distinct productional thesis.” Much of Landlocked’s affect and sequencing seems to suggest an emotional study of entropy at the level of sediment. Rhythms play with space and capacity through polyvalence. The production chose subtractive vertigo, often switching and bringing back in elements that vanished from the track 6 minutes ago. Dubbing out so much of a track, one begins to associate sound akin to memories held in the experience of running your hand across a concrete block as a child. Felt (re)memberance in lieu of narrative tale. Using textures that flicker between colour and percussion, Hallucinator’s 12-tracker of loudspeaker perception music might be a mediation on the psychic wake of the Cold War. Intermittent strata of ambience and groove convects an active margin rifting event underneath a scorched geology of power in Western Europe. Again, this is all grapevine hearsay.

But it’s silence that voices the third gesture. The album’s sparse application of the written word touches on the ennui paradox of being landlocked on an island. Stuck. Trapped in the psychosis of occidental hypercentricism. A looping silence of Black British tragedy: “to the memory of Stephen Lawrence”. 18 year-old Lawrence was stabbed to death at a bus stop in southeast London by six white men in 1993. The rift of grief and implicit reiteration of modern subordination left by this hate act went legally silent for almost two decades until Lawrence’s killers were ultimately sentenced to virtually life in jail in 2012. Only six years removed at the time of Hallucinator’s initial invocation of rememory, the mind-numbing accretion of what Black Studies Professor Denise Ferreira da Silva might call “unpayable debt”, finds demonic ground across Landlocked, forming an aural sense of what continues to be refused.

The album ventures through spaces of overactive non-happenings: ‘Red Angel’’s factory floor dub flashes between smokestack and jungle visions, or the halfway mark’s stilted breath of ‘Dusk’ lending its mood to the sort of sedated dreams built from daily life under colony rule for instance. That linked rhythm links us back to our linked fates across Black and Brown folk is real, thus the syncopated signals through this work behave on the level of transnational radiotelegraphy, sounding out its windswept tension of a body negotiating a meat-grinder schema of linear production and wage for others to know that unspeakable thing can be broadcast in every drum tongue.

As the silence continues to reverb, we return to the sort of meaning-making that cannot be told but felt. Soothing to some, disturbing to others. Landlocked, a Rorschach test for a crumbled empire.

Composed over a period of twenty years, these four electroacoustic pieces by Ivo Malec reflect the richness of his sonic universe and reveal the unique power of his musical writing. His strength lies in an ability to harness emerging sounds and techniques (ranging from complex editing to early computer music and electronic synthesis) and develop them through an exploratory approach, giving rise to musical ideas of rare clarity. This sense of determination, not only in terms of the future of sounds but also of musical forms, is what makes Ivo Malec an essential composer on the contemporary music scene and a key figure in the GRM’s repertoire.
François Bonnet, Paris, 2025

Nashville’s Jess Kerber focuses on the profound resonances of simple moments, pairing delicate acoustic guitar lines with her rich and captivating tenor. The World Is Dark, but I Want It to Be Funny, her second LP for Felte, is a deeply affecting collection of homespun poetry and natural artistry that finds the artists reflecting on personal history, the emotional intricacies of relationships, and the value of cosmic perspective. She explains,“These songs come from a space of feeling a little left behind, so a lot of the album is about realizing and accepting impermanence, and learning how to be good to yourself and to others.”
Opening with “Familiar Strangers”, Kerber gets to the heart of her greatest talents: fluid fingerpicking, emotive vocal cadences, feather-light touches of piano, and subtle harmonies. “Louisiana Song” positions a lyrical chain of childhood recollections up against the literal rising waters that will one day submerge a cherished place: “I think about being southern / and the sand on the gulf coast / When I think about returning / I am wading in a graveyard”.
Throughout The World Is Dark, Kerber navigates an emotional tightrope, fully aware of the ills of the world while trying to find connections and peaceful corners. Even with all their nuances and challenges, she suggests, our relationships are essential to staying grounded, even when we lose them. “Much of my writing is about facing the struggles head-on, balancing what you need to do to survive while remaining true to yourself,” she says. There are echoes of influences like Joni Mitchell, Gillian Welch, and Lomelda, though Kerber injects her own unique wit, wonder, and humility into every passage, allowing the listener into her head for a spell while quietly taking up residence in theirs.

For over three decades, Berlin-based DJ, producer, and curator Marcel Dettmann has remained a central force in electronic music, continuously pushing the boundaries of the craft. Deeply rooted in early influences ranging from post-punk and industrial to synth-pop, his dynamic DJ sets and expansive discography, including seminal releases on Ostgut Ton and Dekmantel, effortlessly weave together raw techno, Chicago house, electro, and avant-garde soundscapes.

Far beyond club booths and releases on his own imprints, MDR and Bad Manners, Dettmann’s multidisciplinary ethos has led him into artistic territories spanning gallery soundscapes, ballet compositions, and cinematic film scores. This relentless creative curiosity defines a career built at the intersection of dancefloor functionality, collaborative experimentation, and perpetual sonic evolution.

Dettmann introduced My Own Shadow last year, a project where music, visual art, and photography converged in two EPs, Approaching (2025) and Faultline (2026) prior to the release of the full album this coming Autumn. More than just a name, this project lets sound, image, and vision blend organically, reflecting his intuitive process of deconstruction, resonance, and emotional discovery.

Speaking about the project Marcel says “My Own Shadow wasn’t born from a big concept. I simply liked the idea of working under another name and started following it. Different things I was doing - music, photography, visual work - slowly began to connect.

It happened quite naturally. My Own Shadow is me - just seen from another perspective.” Neither an alter ego nor a departure, My Own Shadow: Album is an intimate reflection of the artist; a transient, ever-shifting form that dances with the light and subtly reshapes its contours to reveal new depths.

My Own Shadow: Album is built with textural minimalism through rhythm, tension and release, embarking on a path through the recollections and experience of the dancefloor. This space remains the ultimate proving ground where history, instinct, and transcendence collide, guiding Dettmann through his musical interests.

My Own Shadow - Album is driven by rhythm, texture, space and tension. Across tracks such as ‘Gravitational Scar’ and ‘Resolution Vector’, these elements are constantly reshaped, connecting Dettmann’s past with a sound that remains firmly in motion.

“Environments 3” is one of ‘the great lost albums’ by The Future Sound Of London and these sessions have taken on almost mythical status with the group’s fan base. It was initially due for release after the 1993 release of the UK Top 10 album hit “Lifeforms”, but that didn’t happen. Instead, much later in 2010, it came on CD and download. Only now is it being released on vinyl for the first time..



This release also comes after the success of the first two installments which have sold steadily across the different volumes over the years and still climbing. This third volume is a sparse, highly minimal, and vivid departure from their dense 1990s period, and cited as one of the standout ambient releases of its time with FSOL in fine creative form. Reviewers at the time noted he complete absence of the heavy, spacey atmospheres of Lifeforms or the dark chaos of Dead Cities with delicate textures and moody variety throughout. While mostly calm and meditative, certain cuts evoke a desolate, lonely, or gently industrial feel.

The saxophone, thunderous as a peal of lightning, burns the listener’s body and shakes the soul. Out Of Chaos captures a new frontier reached by Kosuke Mine beyond the depths of chaos.

Having attracted widespread attention through his work with the Masafumi Kikuchi Group and the consecutive release of three albums under his own name in 1970, Kosuke Mine was one of the most talked-about figures in Japanese jazz. Following the breakup of the Kikuchi Group, he released the masterpiece Daguri in 1973, followed by the recording of Out Of Chaos.

From the hard-driving Recollection to the beautiful ballad Little Abi, Mine’s playing—said to have been influenced by John Coltrane during this period—displays both sharp inspiration and a grand sense of scale, blowing with a power that seems to break through every barrier.

Backing him is the trio that helped propel Mine to the center of the jazz scene. Their performance, completely united and burning with intensity, is nothing short of breath-taking.

Hiriketiya is a small, enclosed bay on Sri Lanka's southern coast, where jungle leans toward the water and the days unfold without urgency.
Passing through in early 2025 on the way to Europe, Alex Albrecht spent a week here at MOND's artist residency, allowing the rhythms of the place to quietly shape the work that followed.
During the residency, Albrecht recorded and exchanged ideas with Sri Lankan musicians Dhyan Basho on sitar, Dinelka Liyanage on electronics, Uvindu Perera on double bass and Pasindu Herath on saxophone.
Their performances appear throughout the album, sampled and re-contextualised, influencing its melodic language, pacing and emotional tone.

Much of the music was shaped directly by its surroundings. Field recordings were gathered across Hiriketiya, and instruments were played wherever it felt necessary. This included rocks beside the ocean where waves set irregular rhythms, tall grasslands where wind and insects blend into the recordings, and open decks overlooking the sea. 'Round Table' captures this approach most clearly. Recorded while sitting together overlooking the ocean, a large steel table in front of the group gradually became part of the composition, used instinctively as an unplanned percussive element.

Not everything could be captured. Some of the most meaningful moments occurred before recording was possible. Those sounds exist only in memory, and the album is shaped in part by an attempt to hold onto their feelings.

Rather than documenting the residency in a linear way, the album gathers fragments, recordings, electronic sketches and field sounds, assembling them into a continuous listening experience shaped by place and recollection. MOND owners Jess and Renato foster an environment that supports artists without directing them, creating space for focus, trust and connection.

The result is a record shaped by Hiriketiya's enclosed bay, dense vegetation, heat and night air. Music formed through listening, restraint, missed recordings and the sensation of being temporarily held by a place.

'We Fell In Turn' is the solo debut from Brooklyn-based trombonist, composer, and quartet leader Kalia Vandever. Vandever, who plays with Harry Styles and Japanese Breakfast, “sculpts her trombone’s golden tones into dazzling compositions” (Pitchfork), writing music that tends to “dip you into a feeling or a pattern or a breathing speed, and keep you there” (The New York Times). In 2022, Vandever released Regrowth, an album that “features the ecstatic, brilliant melodies that have become Vandever’s signature sound” (Bandcamp). This spring, Vandever brings contemplative reflection to We Fell in Turn, a brave and understated work from an ascending voice in American jazz.

Recorded over three days in upstate New York, 'We Fell In Turn' is improvisational — a stark palate of solo trombone, voice, effects, and little more. “My solo process has always been heavily rooted in improvisation,” says Vandever. “I wanted the process to feel similar to the way I perform. Lee Meadvin, who engineered and produced the album, had a heavy hand in the creative process as well. He would dictate prompts before I started improvising and those pieces ended up shaping a lot of the imagery that comes up throughout the record.”

Connecting the dots between Jeff Parker’s 'Forfolks', and early releases from Grouper, 'We Fell In Turn' is a study of space and patience, embracing vulnerability in its sparse adornment. At times, the album is reminiscent of Patrick Shiroishi’s 'Hidemi', both in its familial inspiration and solo instrument study, while sharing the ineffable feel of William Basinski’s 'The Disintegration Loops' — the traces of her trombone folding in on themselves in an organic loop. Emotionally generous throughout, Vandever acts as a torchbearer for jazz’s historical yearning for connection.

On 'We Fell in Turn' Vandever draws inspiration from childhood memories — events that shaped her approach to love, community, and partnership, and her maternal homeland of Hawaii. “We were exploring childhood memories, earliest experiences with disappointment and pain, and my Hawaiian roots,” says Vandever. “We Fell In Turn came after I titled the track "We Wept In Turn". Both come from the intangible feeling of waking up from vivid dreams, particularly the experience of falling right before waking up or waking up in tears.”

Through this exploration into her heritage, Vandever also found guidance. “In Hawaiian mythology, ‘aumākua are known as ancestral spiritual guides that manifest in different forms, whether physical or intangible,” says Vandever. “My ‘aumākua visits me in my dreams, usually with a reassuring hug or a reminder of my past. Memories and early experiences seem to escape me, but find their way back in dreams.” And now they’ve found their way into 'We Fell in Turn', Kalia Vandever’s stunning solo debut.

The experiment aboard orbital station Sequoia-4 began as a routine test of the acoustic array. The team attempted to synchronize an analogue resonator with a quantum audio synthesizer. The two incompatible frequencies were expected to cancel each other out. Instead, the instruments registered a stable wave. It didn’t fade, on the contrary, it did respond to every sound, every movement around it.

At first, they assumed a coding error, but the wave began adapting to the researchers’ voices, shifting its amplitude and rhythm. Within hours, its spectrum started to resemble a heartbeat. The recording was forwarded to the Analysis Division, where it was named Hybrid Dub — a hybrid resonance formed between the machine and the human senses. The phenomenon proved unpredictable: each listener described different effects, from gentle euphoria to vivid recollections of memories that had never occurred.

Even after the system was powered down, a faint signal persisted in the ether — as if the mechanism had learned to breathe on its own. Some claimed that, when replayed, traces of the ocean, rustling leaves, and distant voices could be heard — as though the signal had passed through layers of living matter and remembered them.

The project was shut down, and the archive sealed. Only one line remained in the final report: “The signal wasn’t created — it discovered us.”

CINTH’s new installment, Kinzua‘s 5-track EP Never Fret, Never Fail, presents a focused examination of UK-inflected memory, immersing the listener in dissolving traces of IDM, Breakbeat, Jungle and Trance. While the archival recollection of 90s Britain provides an almost hauntological emotional frame of reference, each track maintains its autonomy, allowing Kinzua’s particular approach to sonic and rhythmic detail to emerge clearly.
The meditative thread that marked their earlier releases runs through the EP once again, counterbalanced by a nearly industrial rhythmic energy, that keeps it suitable for the more attentive and considered dancefloors. Never Fret, Never Fail will be released on February 13th and includes a collaboration with Peryl. The release will be celebrated with an in-store session at Sound Metaphors on the same day.

Natasha Pirard returns with her most personal project yet, dedicated to her mother and late grandmother, whose care shaped her life. Fernande, Cecile is a photobook of songs, weaving voice, field recordings, synthesizer, and violin into an ode to her matrilineal line. Pirard lost her grandmother at seven, yet Fernande’s warmth stayed with her as a touchstone. Her mother, Cecile, has been a constant presence, guiding her through difficult years.

Alzheimer’s—her grandmother’s illness—and the fragility of memory permeate the work. A conversation with her mother sparked the album: over coffee, Cecile placed a hand on her heart and said, “If I ever develop this disease, don’t forget I’m still here (inside).” That moment became central to the compositions, which translate Pirard’s gratitude and love into music as tender as possible.

The music moves in fragments—notes, chords, loops—evoking gardens, sunlight, and childhood afternoons. Rhythms shift like life itself, carrying echoes of loss and the persistence of memory. Ambient textures brush against her voice and instruments, sometimes punctuated by her grandmother’s favorite bird.

The album unfolds in two parts: Fernande, capturing her grandmother’s warmth and fading recollections, and Cecile, honoring her mother’s care and resilience. Track titles trace memories while the music drifts through longing and gratitude, articulating what words cannot.

The album was written and recorded by Natasha Pirard, produced and mixed by David & Stephen Dewaele of Soulwax/2manydjs at DEEWEE.

DELUXE 4LP-SET IN SLIPCASE WITH GLOSS FINISH/4 PRINTED INNERSLEEVES/12 PAGE BOOKLET/40 TRACKS/COLOURED VINYL

After a feature on last year’s VA Family Affair comp, Tokyo-based producer Yuu Udagawa drops her first solo EP on Razor-N-Tape. With releases on Freerange and Compost under her belt, Yuu has been developing a subtle and moody deep house sound that she displays across the 3 original songs of the Urban Physicality EP. Each track vibrates with dark chordal textures, pulsating drums and chopped vocal samples, beautifully layered to develop and slowly build. To round out the record, Tokyo producer Takuya Matsumoto turns in a throbbing late-nite remix of the EP’s title track, with a tougher drum profile, cavernous bass and masterful sound design.

In a fusion of science and sound, Kalocain's debut vinyl release, "Genetic Memory," unfolds an eerie tale. "W.N.G." opens a portal to an ancient world, where forgotten tongues unveil cryptic secrets. "Genetic Memory" weaves ethereal connections between ancestral recollections and the present, warping the fabric of time. "Ivermectin" delves into the surreal realms of molecular melodies, as if sonic DNA deciphers sound's enigmas. Remixes from Normal 4, Patricia Kokett, and Jacques Satre reshape the auditory cosmos with a dash of the bizarre.

To amplify the weirdness, Evaldas Bubinas aka Hermandrowning, concocts mind-bending artwork, beckoning listeners into a realm where sound and art meld in uncanny harmony.

But that's not all! The digital copy unveils an additional original track, "Groove Drift," along with a wild array of remixes by Henry Greenleaf, Frankfurt Bass, and Dogpatrol.

"Genetic Memory" isn't just music; it's a transcendent odyssey blending the past, present, and the surreal future, with a digital twist that will leave you questioning the boundaries of sonic exploration.

The idea of the project is to reconstruct a different perspective of Tribal Italia, an imprint set in 1995 in Riccione.

The label recollected the attitude of the Afro/Cosmic djs of the region like Meo, Fary, Fattori and Brahms that created a distinctive "world-sound trademark" in whole Italy and Europe (as seen lately in the Austrian experiments of Stefan Egger).

There was a side of the label that was clearly influenced by the "heavy-sample" culture of Hip-Hop and, especially, by what was going on in the UK where groups like Transglobal Underground and Loop Guru were creating a new identitarian imagination.

These influences gave birth to a suggestive selection of the best breaks of the Tribal Italia catalogue

In 2018, Glonti started collecting LPs of Soviet-era Georgian composers at Tbilisi’s “Dry Bridge” flea market.The records mostly consisted of classical and chamber music released on Melodiya, the singular, state owned record label of the USSR. It was through this process that the idea of Recollection was born, as Glonti aimed to create an album that would utilize samples from his growing collection.


Recollection III-IV marks the second in a planned series of 7” releases, each built from Glonti’s expanding archive of Soviet-era recordings. The artwork by Dmytro Nikolaienko (Day Night) once again reflects the utilitarian aesthetic of Soviet-era record design.

I know that people love to read the stories related to the background of each release on Future Retro London & how they came together, but I'll be honest, I have no recollection at all about how this release came into existence????

Sorry that I can't give much insight on anything to do with this release, I imagine that DJ Sofa pitched me the idea to get remixes done of our collab from her FR011 release and one thing led to another...

Rather than try and piece together the process of what happened to make this release into a thing, I'll just skip to the big ups. Thanks to Soeneido, Cheetah & Janaway for their remix work, to DJ Sofa for the idea (I think?) for this release and for her work on the original and to my memory for failing me in this moment where I was hoping it would come through for me.

Delve into the deep and murky waters of RH003, brought to you by the dance droid; Phase O'Matic.

Dance floor ready from start to finish.

“Artifact” by Novo Line makes a departure from his Atari ST fueled FM synth journeys, here reimagining the soundtrack of our collective memory. Born from a live performance at a listening festival in Berlin by the Camp Cosmic crew, this LP transforms universally recognized pop anthems, beckoning listeners into a kaleidoscopic realm of sound, where familiar melodies fracture and our brains attempt to reconstitute them.

Using era-consistent equipment – turntable, 12″ maxi singles, classic samplers, and iconic drum machines – Novo Line deconstructs and reassembles songs etched into our cultural DNA. From the soaring emotions of “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” to the disco beat of “Heart of Glass,” these are melodies that have scored countless lives, now reborn in startling new forms.

Recorded live to tape, ‘Artifact’ doesn’t just play; it unfolds like an auditory hallucination. It taps into the deep emotional reservoirs these songs have built over decades, twisting familiar refrains into new shapes. One festival goer recollected that it uncovered “the dark inner universe of Kenny G, suddenly splayed out into a whole new cosmos.”

As the needle traces its path, ‘Artifact’ peels back layers of shared musical experience. It’s an aural alchemy that transmutes the known into the profoundly strange, yet achingly familiar. Listeners may find themselves adrift in a sea of frequencies, where every warped note triggers a cascade of personal and collective memories.

Rooted in the “copyriot” tradition of 1980s punk and industrial scenes, “Artifact” challenges notions of authorship while celebrating the universal language of pop. It doesn’t merely suggest a trip – it becomes a journey through the very fabric of our shared musical consciousness.

Mastered by Rude66, cut by Helmet Erler, and pressed at Objects Manufacturing.

A full tank of gas, the gentle glow from the radio dial, & stretches of open highway await, Forever Gamblin’ On You meanders through miles of soulful AOR, funky folk, & dusty soft rock obscurities. A follow up to Sky Dust Drifter, this compilation was gleaned from American private press oddities & rarities of the 70s & 80s, all of which are seeing their first official reissues on this album. A celebration of love, rebirth, and exploration radiating like the warmth of a loved one from the passenger seat.

Featuring “Feeling The Fire”, a jazzy, AOR grooving declaration of love and desire taken from the sole release from The Mad Brother. The compilations’ title track “Forever Gamblin On You” by Petroc And Pals, features an echo-laden folk rock recollection of hard feelings delivered with swelling guitar in a mournful soft psychedelia. Angie Pepper’s “Miss You Too Much” dwells on a past love, rolling along with an effortlessly cool rhythm section, while Roy McComas croons of his manifested “angel of love” on the swirling psych folk rocker “Girl Of My Dreams”.

Forever Gamblin’ On You unfolds as a hopeful yet equally melancholic collection of nomadic anthems, primed for a memorable journey along the back roads of familiar American landscapes.

Repress!

This is the first 12“ of the new Move D - “Recurrent Recollections“ series. “Something ’Bout The D“ is featuring three previously released tracks, that only ever appeared on Various Artists compilations on different record labels - from Fred P’s Earth Tones Vol. 1, via Russ Gabriel’s Ferox label to Lowtec’s Out to Lunch imprint. Now for the first time on Source Records, this 12“ kicks off with Aspiration 2010, a subtle and slow building Deep Acid House track evolving across the entire side A. On the B-side the title track “Something ’Bout The D“ takes the vibe back to 90s oldschool Detroit inspired house music - spiced with some 909 euphoria, some uplifting chords and a technoid, abstract but soothing melody. Closing out the 12“ on B2 is the much beloved and hard to find Move D contribution to Out To Lunch’s “Airbag Craftworks Vol. 2“ compilation “Marshmellow Boots“. A hypnotic and bouncing hookline is transformed over surrounding synth stabs and dubs. A subdued fluffy little groover in a typical Move D trademark fashion.

Ruby Red - Transparent - Galaxy effect vinyl in dub style jacket (jacket sleeve with center hole cut out so label of LP shows through) a black paper inner sleeve and poly bag.

PART ONE’ METAL HAMMER - 8/10 review. FOR FANS OF : Lustmord, Om, Sunn O))) . “An exercise in freeform ambience, ritualistic repetition and the rapturous, womb-like power of bass…strange and affecting. We remain lucky to share in the great man’s vision.”


At its heart, music has always been a questioning of inheritance – a dialogue with predecessors and forebears, the forging of one’s own perspective in relation to what has come before, and for some, a plunge into the boundless realms between. For Steve Von Till, that process has always taken on an added dimension to become the most sacred of tasks. Whether through the apocalyptic uprising of Neurosis, the sonic deconstructions of their sister project, Tribes of Neurot, the invocatory intimacy of his eponymous solo albums or his instrumental psychedelic reveries in the guise of Harvestman, that dialogue has never just been with musical influences, but with what underpins them: the primordial, elemental forces now banished to the peripheries of our contemporary consciousness, yet still broadcasting a signal for all who will listen.
Drawn to the megaliths, ruins and ancient sites mapped out along the British and European mainland’s geographical and psychic landscapes, the folklore and apocrypha forever resurfacing as portals from a rational world, “Triptych” is a meditation forged from traces and residues, and an hallucinatory recollection of artists who have tapped into that enduring otherworldliness embedded within us all. It’s a dream diary narrating a passage through Summer Isle where Flying Saucer Attack are wafting out of a window, a distant Fairport Convention are being remixed by dub master Adrian Sherwood, celestial scanners Tangerine Dream are trying to drown out Bert Jansch and Hawkwind are playing Steeleye Span covers, all prised out of time yet bound to its singularity.
Woven together from home studio recordings that span two decades, this latest outing as Harvestman finds parallels with nature’s cycles not just in its release dates but in the repeated structure that binds each album, like an imprint refracted through three separate strata. As with April’s “Part One” and the forthcoming “Part Three”, “Part Two”, starts on a collaboration with Om bassist and long-term friend of Steve’s, Al Cisneros, with a dub take opening the B-Side. Here, the opening track, “The Hag Of Beara Vs The Poet”’s languid, tribal groove expands into a chromatic wash, like an endless drip of oil spreading out under a midsummer haze.
A filtering of the alpha-state travelogues of its predecessor, “Part Two” reaches even deeper into primal yet pristine states. It journeys from the undulating drone and slow-thawing wonder of “The Falconer”, as if the Myst soundtrack were being broadcast from outer space, through “Damascus”’s perpetual-motion, dreamtime bazaar and “Vapour Phase”s seismograph frequencies measuring supernatural tremors to “The Unjust Incarceration”s distorted bagpipes, sounding a noise-frayed lament
If “Triptych” is a multi- and extra-sensory experience, it extends to the remarkable glyph-style artwork of Henry Hablak, a map of correspondences from a long-forgotten ancient and advanced civilization. As with “Triptych” itself, it’s an echo from another time, an act of binding, a guide to be endlessly reinterpreted, and a signpost to the sacred that might not indicate where to look, but how.

There was a time when a person would pick up an instrument to compose yet another song for a loved one. A sad figure humming into a microphone, pronouncing the most basic words and forms to convey quantity, quality, fact, statistics and similar sounds describing pain, loss and sorrow. The human brain would perceive the melody sad and perhaps within herself feel a sense of melancholia.

In another parallel world a new composition would then appear. But not one composed on a wooden built instrument, no, sounds made into structures and tables that would assists the listener into providing an additional context and meaning through digital synthesis and quantised harmonies. But who could really tell if these sounds were real? Or where they just sounds impersonating an idea of something?

Rhyme nor reason is as abstract in its shapes and ideas as it is concrete and elegant in its narratives. A carefully crafted wooden cabinet with an over-whelming amount of different drawers and hidden compartments. Each box storing blissful arrangement; a fluorescent stone, a paper note saying something about lunch, some collectible objects, a forgotten token or perhaps an autograph, all so very vibrant and joyful for its possessor.

Deleted files stored on rapidly rotating platters coated with magnetic material. Small, easy to loose SSD memory cards of recorded corrupt files and digital artefacts. Software engineered compositions trying to grasp the shared belief of an upcoming future, vivid and uncertain; birds, waters and long lost recollections. A release unconcerned with the literal depiction of things from the visible world. At least not for now.

In The Land of Silence is the first full length album by experimental artist Ireen Amnes. The founder of the London based collective Under My Feet. debuts on Sonic Groove with an immaterial journey contemplating suffering, liberation, the importance of affection and unity. This ambient album reveals a hidden connection between these human emotions. From anger and rejection, to love and unity, the sounds explored by the artist represent a recent journey within. Recollections of distant memories are expressed with nostalgic sounds; by contrast, darker tracks are symbolic of those moments when it is more dif ficult to accept reality for what it is. Ireen expresses in this album that there wouldn’t be any joy without suffering.

Sounds created out of emotions that cannot be spoken. Beats that pulse out of gestures that can no longer be performed. Tones that screech out of bodies that can no longer be human. Echoes of all unspoken words reverb into the wounds of time; that constant ebb and flow of existence; that relentless stomping of exchanges. The slur of life is now noise – she collects its torn pieces with her bare hands and holds them close to her pounding flesh. She now sways in and out of consciousness, transported by nothing but his will to life, his ecstatic memory, his murmured love that now forms this soundtrack to her life.

To kick off our 5th year party celebrations the label begins its new set of releases starting with the joined forces of Regal86 and IMOGEN. The artists contribute two tracks each to the four track vinyl alongside remixes of each other's work, meeting at sonic crossroads.

The EP journeys through rave nostalgia filled with warmth and hope for the future, recollecting some favourite memories of the dance floor.

The A side is fast, driving with a sense of longing for the Halcyon Days and the offline times of partying when things felt easier. The release opens with ‘One Night In 1992’, IMOGEN’s nostalgic ode to an earlier rave era, built around a vocal recollection of her mother’s experiences on the dancefloor in the 90’s. Raw, hazy and deeply personal, it sets the tone for a record rooted in memory while remaining firmly in the present. Regal86 follows with ‘Rush’, bringing a different energy to the record. Driven by rolling rhythms, playful movement and a strong sense of groove.

The B side takes a more optimistic turn looking into the future with dubby aquatic pads and euphoric breakdowns, carrying a feeling of forward motion. There is a lightness to the tracks, a sense of joy running beneath NC Station and keeping the momentum locked whilst turning inwards on the final track, IMOGEN’s ‘Midnight At Bret’ rounds out a release that moves naturally between nostalgia, propulsion and the shared language of the dance floor.

As the next release launches, IMOGEN takes wigs on tour for a five year special run of shows starting on release at Tresor for a two club take over following with further cities: London, Milan, Dublin and more.

“Ruins are the style of our future cities, future cities are themselves ruins.” - Izosaki Arata

A note from Lawrence English: Nostalgia is not an ideology, though in this moment, we could be mistaken for thinking it might be just that. Over the past years, the idea of nostalgia has been filtered through various political and technological lenses and has become a tool used for forgetting, rather than remembering. Instead of embracing histories’ complexities and inconsistencies, this version of nostalgia seeks only singular recollection. This contemporary phenomenon of nostalgia has become a methodology at best, and a weapon at worst, used to erode the past and project forward a collapsed and unimaginably sanitised version of things, places, and ways of being from former times. It’s this projection that sees it playing a mounting role in a social pathology associated with reducing the imagined possibilities of future.

The Rest Is My Ghost is a record that interrogates the manifestations of this reductive futuring and celebrates those that have tried (and failed), and those who continue to push back against decayed and revisionist positions. It’s a record that considers the weaponisation of nostalgia for the purposes of cloaking possible futures.

In recent times, I’ve proposed a term for this weaponised use of nostalgia, something I have called Acid Nostalgia. I offer it as a shorthand to describe the de-contouring of the future through a corrosive fixation on a flatten rendering of the preceding times. It is, in part, a certain type of lazy cultural scripting where tropes of the past are presented in the absolute, as empty pictorials; photocopies without any original from which to draw actual meaning, or useful detail.

Acid Nostalgia describes an increasingly common political projection of nostalgia that exists without any subjective connection to the memory surrounding and contained within it. Like acid poured onto a surface, this use of nostalgia seeks to erodes and smooth out the complexity and texture of lived connection and longing, which has until recently guided contemplations of nostalgia. Acid Nostalgia instead erases the texture of histories and de-contours the past, and in doing so dematerialises the horizon of possibility, which by its very nature marks the beginning point for any (and all) imaginable futures. Acid Nostalgia is a dreamless screen, where uncertainty, restlessness and aspiration are subjected to corrosion, breaking down and neutralising the wellspring of futures which are birthed from within the ambiguously charged, complex and at times chaotic atmospheres of the present.

The Rest Is My Ghost is not however some universal reading of these things and happenings. Rather it draws its breath from a very personal pathway carved through my own fraught experiences of nostalgia and framed through a disparate collage of chance encounters, situations, places and provocations. It takes oblique notes from civic and architectural references such as Japan’s Metabolist movement, Hong Kong’s ‘one line sky’ and Los Angeles’s vanished Sodium Vapour lights. It interpolates texts – factual and fictional – by authors such as Franco Berardi, Kate Crawford, JG Ballard, Katsuhiro Otomo, Mark Fisher and Alexei Yurchak who have each so wonderfully sought to rupture the familiarity of now, and push us towards other ways of imaging ourselves, our surroundings and our very ways of being in this world.

I also owe a debt of thanks to Adam Curtis in helping launch what has become this edition. It was his provocation, in a conversation we shared about an overwhelming and profound sense of uncertainty around being able to predict the immediate future and how to respond to that, which sparked the earliest inklings of this edition.

The Rest Is My Ghost is ultimately a record about the promise of constructions and connections to come, material, social and political. It's a record that accepts the fragility of failure as a source of ultimate potential, and a position from which the deepest freedom of imagination might be sought and summoned forth to conjure even the most unimaginable, (but) possible futures.

For years, singer-songwriter Riley Downing has collected stories about life’s overlooked moments and underappreciated people. He’s unearthed these tales of castaway truths and once-faded recollections for Landfill Poetry, a sophomore solo album and Oh Boy Records debut.??A native of small-town Missouri who once worked as a backroad trashman before becoming one of music’s weathered journeymen, the husky-voiced Downing may be best known as a member of noisemaking Americana outfit The Deslondes, a New Orleans-born band that he co-founded after a clandestine meeting with likeminded musicians at a folk festival in Oklahoma.??On Landfill Poetry, his six-string worldbuilding takes listeners to the back of the trash truck (“Landfill Poetry”), inside the lonely hours of the graveyard paycheck (“Night Shift”) and to the quiet moments after a hard day of work (“Porch Song”). He sings for the restless ones who stay up way too late (“Hay Hay Hay”) and the grandchildren who admire a hard-working compassion once shared between late loved ones (“Helen & Gene”). With each song, Downing uncovers sketches of life that once might’ve been lost to the landfill but instead?are shared anew.

offerings is a new project from Bruno Silva (Ondness, Serpente) and Gonçalo F. Cardoso (Lagoss, Prophetas, Hannibal Chew III).

Born from a shared obsession with the peripheral—rain puddles, empty city spaces and the flickering crawl of late-night credits—the album occupies a stalled threshold; a space that refuses to resolve into a clear image. It does not strive for the "new" nor the "old"; it exists in a state of suspension, like end credits that refuse to roll, fixed in a permanent noumenal state.

Composed through a frantic exchange of files during the stormy winter of 2026, End Credits Noumena functions as a document of inner domestic spaces. It captures a floating, jam-like camaraderie between two artists with shared fixations and divergent sound palettes. The result is gritty and acetic — a series of random, eerie transmissions that remain strangely inviting. These are offerings, left over for whoever chooses to claim them.

Bruno Silva returns under his Ondness moniker for his most personal album yet.

Recorded as an homage, a reference map, and a temporal slippage back to a transformative period of Bruno Silva's life, I Can Only Put So Much Into a Song conjures the threshold between his shoegaze-leaning teen years and a young adulthood defined by profound sonic landmarks: Iran’s The Moon Boys (whose cover serves as a key influence), The Microphones’ It Was Hot, We Stayed In The Water, Fennesz’s Endless Summer, and the communal, tape- hiss maelstrom of the New Weird America underground—all underscored by a persistent Black Metal tension.

Taking its title from a lyric in Farrah Abraham’s masterpiece My Teenage Dream Ended, this new humble offering from Ondness drifts into the memory of song as half-remembered recollections, as if beamed from a recurring "now" of unfulfilled possibilities.

Sir Richard Bishop returns for a new sponítaneous six-string meshing of people"s music, recollections and psychic intentions. Are y"all ready for some Hillbilly Erotica? Migration from last album"s Ragas to this new Erotica is another chapter in Bishop"s progress, drifting via songs into the further frontiers of his pappy"s hometown sounds, trancing over and out in their hand-me-down clothes. As with the ragas, the "rotica"s hung round the neck of John Fahey"s infamous dubbing of certain tradiítional American folk sounds as "American Primitive." A perfectly good thought, but Sir Richard picks his own axe and chose a separate path. Rushing through gutters & picking pickled brains in the saucy head waters of the down-low & literal American primitive, his hillbilly music is a mash of brined cultural inheritance, mini-ragas and moonshine-drunk savagery breaking out on the frets. As a conception for Sir Rick"s acoustic guitar music, it"s a dynamite means and frame, centering his improvisations in a place overflown with pagan desire and unbound in deliverance. Here he flies up and down the neck, his manner less pristine, yet more exquisite, a flailing, flowing-on-the-river medley through stubborn whitewater turbulence, post-grass and folk"s classical gas. Anybody who takes a snort of this here Hillbilly Erotica will find a frankly spellbinding richness of intent and execution in their ear-mouths. And may thereafter find brain and blightness. It"s fine!

Sir Richard Bishop returns for a new sponítaneous six-string meshing of people"s music, recollections and psychic intentions. Are y"all ready for some Hillbilly Erotica? Migration from last album"s Ragas to this new Erotica is another chapter in Bishop"s progress, drifting via songs into the further frontiers of his pappy"s hometown sounds, trancing over and out in their hand-me-down clothes. As with the ragas, the "rotica"s hung round the neck of John Fahey"s infamous dubbing of certain tradiítional American folk sounds as "American Primitive." A perfectly good thought, but Sir Richard picks his own axe and chose a separate path. Rushing through gutters & picking pickled brains in the saucy head waters of the down-low & literal American primitive, his hillbilly music is a mash of brined cultural inheritance, mini-ragas and moonshine-drunk savagery breaking out on the frets. As a conception for Sir Rick"s acoustic guitar music, it"s a dynamite means and frame, centering his improvisations in a place overflown with pagan desire and unbound in deliverance. Here he flies up and down the neck, his manner less pristine, yet more exquisite, a flailing, flowing-on-the-river medley through stubborn whitewater turbulence, post-grass and folk"s classical gas. Anybody who takes a snort of this here Hillbilly Erotica will find a frankly spellbinding richness of intent and execution in their ear-mouths. And may thereafter find brain and blightness. It"s fine!

Blue Hour is the most recent release from Friday Night Plans, recently signed by Modern Obscure Music. The project marks FNP's shift from their 'pop' roots towards a more experimental and ambient sound. Friday Night Plans is pioneered by singer/songwriter Masumi who has collaborated on this project with acclaimed Japanese producer Ena. Together, they have created a collection of songs that represents the quiet introspection and emotions of the AM hours, using improvisation during the production process to create a cyclical record that is described as 'dreamlike'. Masumi attributes the project to a journey consisting of fragments of memory through each song; a reflection of how nostalgia and recollection connects us to emotions.

2026 Repress

In March 2023, Tresor Records will release "Crash Recoil", a new album by Surgeon. It marks Anthony Child's first techno LP in five years, following a period in which he felt uncertainty in his role as a techno producer and found it tough to locate inspiration. This new album encounters him drawing on spontaneous techniques to arrive at unchartered topographies.
"Crash Recoil" originates from Surgeon's recent live sets, where he experimented with constraints in performing and embracing the twists, turns and paradoxes that arrive from this. Each fresh iteration on consistent MIDI sequences and hardware reconfigured tracks into dierent constellations, creating an inspiring vortex of unpredicted events where ideas could flourish. This new approach allowed him to capture the spontaneous energy of his live shows in a way he had never done before. "This is not a live album, since it has not been recorded in one go during a live performance. In the same way that bands tour songs before going into the studio to record an album, I was able to explore these songs and hone their eectiveness during my live performances before creating a studio version."
The result is eight tracks that emphasise a new techno sound for Surgeon, drawing in references from across the musical spectrum. "I can hear Coil, King Tubby, Detroit Techno and The Cure all wrapped up with 30 years of DJing," Surgeon says of the album. Melancholic hum-like ambiences smudge around unadorned, near-droning basslines, crunching rhythm and percolating arpeggiations. The tracks carry unique and potent locomotion, with a low-slung grind through toughened terrains, breathing with a free spirit, untethered by a studio-based perspective. We hear manifestations of the same raw material across the album, like a textural motif, carving new variants and creating a cohesive work full of recollection.

Recollections VII-VIII marks the fourth in a planned series of 7” releases, each built from Glonti’s expanding archive of Soviet-era recordings. The artwork by Dmytro Nikolaienko (Day Night) once again reflects the utilitarian aesthetic of Soviet-era record design.

In 2018, Glonti started collecting LPs of Soviet-era Georgian composers at Tbilisi’s “Dry Bridge” flea market.The records mostly consisted of classical and chamber music released on Melodiya, the singular, state owned record label of the USSR. It was through this process that the idea of Recollection was born, as Glonti aimed to create an album that would utilize samples from his growing collection.

First time reissue of JP / US free jazz rarity.

The 1970s were Marion Brown’s most searching decade, a period during which he sought to move beyond the free jazz of the previous era and find more personal approaches to structuring improvisation and composition. After leaving New York for Europe in 1967, Brown began reshaping his music into what he described as “a more deliberate kind of music that had more structure to it,” pacing it so that moods and modes could develop over time. Albums such as In Sommerhausen, Afternoon of a Georgia Faun, Geechee Recollections, and Sweet Earth Flying trace this evolution: rhythmic structures moved to the foreground, harmony receded, and composition became a matter of orchestrating interlocking rhythmic parts as one would polyphonic lines.

Released in 1976, Awofofora is an overlooked but crucial entry in that sequence. At the time, its use of funk and reggae beats, electric guitars, and grooves drawn from contemporary Black popular music led some to misread it as a jazz-rock detour. In retrospect, it is entirely consistent with Brown’s methodology. As he admired in the Art Ensemble of Chicago, the stimulus comes from within the community. Here Brown filters Afro-Caribbean rhythms and funk through his own sensibility, abstracting their structural qualities rather than adopting surface style.

“La Placita,” making its first recorded appearance, layers distinct rhythmic phrases in a manner reminiscent of African drum ensembles, over which Brown and trumpeter Ambrose Jackson spin extended improvisations. The standard “Flamingo” is reshaped through diasporic rhythm and lyrical soloing, while “Pepi’s Tempo” and “Mangoes” harness crisp funk and reggae grooves to generate what Brown called a “manifestation of community” through collective improvisation. Even the overdubbed solo feature “And Then They Danced” reflects his structural thinking, ingeniously re-voicing a duet composition for two alto saxophones performed by one player.

This was the only recording by a short-lived band that briefly polarized audiences during festival appearances in 1976. Yet Brown consistently sought unity across change: different sounds, same principles — rhythm as structure, melody as architecture, collective improvisation, and above all, the primacy of tone. Awofofora stands not as a departure, but as a vivid synthesis of the elements he had been refining since the late 1960s, its grooves and golden alto lines conveying a sound drawn, in his words, “from life and from the world of experience.”

35th ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF THE GENRE-DEFINING OPUS OF ATMOSPHERIC DEATH/DOOM
FROM THE UK METAL LEGENDS. ON LIMITED CORONA VINYL WITH
ADDITIONAL 4 PAGE BOOKLET & REMASTERED AUDIO

Paradise Lost formed in 1988 in West Yorkshire, UK, when vocalist Nick Holmes & guitarist Gregor Mackintosh came together with the idea of taking metal beyond the conventional styles of the time. They were influenced by acts such as Candlemass, Celtic Frost & Morbid Angel, & concocted a unique atmosphere of their own as a result. This was already apparent when their debut album ‘Lost Paradise’ appeared on Peaceville Records in 1990, & blended death metal with doom & some melodic elements, but it wasn’t until their follow-up album, ‘Gothic’, that the band truly made its mark.

Recorded in late 1990/early 1991 at the renowned Academy Studios in Yorkshire (responsible for classic albums from bands such as My Dying Bride, Anathema, Cradle of Filth, among many others), ‘Gothic’ was the album responsible for a whole sub-genre: Gothic Doom Metal, upon its release in 1991. Creating a more sombre & atmospheric form of dark extremity, with the introduction of Gregor Mackintosh’s highly distinctive & unmistakable lead guitar melodies, Paradise Lost established themselves as among the pioneering UK bands of the early nineties, becoming highly influential to a generation of subsequent greats.

This new edition of ‘Gothic’, marking the album’s 35th anniversary, is presented on limited corona vinyl, with remastered audio courtesy of Jaime Gomez Arellano at Orgone Studios. The release also includes a four page booklet containing recollections from the band on the period & the shaping of the album, as originally featured in 2021’s ‘The Lost & The Painless’.