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The song showcases Prince's signature blend of funk, rock, and pop, featuring catchy melodies and his iconic guitar work.

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It's been a tough fight worth fighting as we all drive along betting on another day.
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Casino isn’t just a track to me. It comes straight from my love for the classic Italian American gangster films I grew up on. Being Italian, I was obsessed with movies like Casino and Goodfellas. I’ve watched them more times than I can count. The style, the tension, the way the characters talk and carry themselves always hit me differently.

The idea for this track actually came from one of those iconic moments: a scene between De Niro and Pesci as their relationship starts to unravel. I’d seen it countless times, but this time I stopped and thought: what if I used this in a track? Would it elevate the music or would I ruin one of the greatest films ever made? That thought lit the spark.

I wanted to capture that same energy. The power. The danger. The drama. And bring it into sound. Casino is the result. Raw, cinematic, and authentic. I hope it hits you the same way those films have always hit me.

–EDEF

Feeling Is Structure explores the relationship between physical form and human emotion.

Across 10 spatial audio-visual works, Cooper examines how structure in sound, architecture, biology and art, shapes the way we feel.

The album is built on the idea that our inner emotional lives are profoundly connected from our lived environment. Developed from a commission to create a live show for London’s Royal Albert Hall, expanding on this idea, Max explains:

“I’m fascinated by architects who can imbue brutalist buildings with humanity, or artists who can paint a block of colour representing their soul.” says Cooper. “We have this remarkable capacity to spill ourselves into the world through form. When I began working on a show for the Royal Albert Hall, that connection between large-scale physical structures and feeling took over, and this album emerged from that process.”

Musically, Feeling Is Structure leans into Cooper’s more intricate and deliberate compositional side. Rather than improvisation, the record focuses on carefully designed systems and processes that build evolving sonic architectures. Precise at the micro level, but deeply emotive in impact.

With Mr. Coconut, Cosmo Dance delivers a four-track EP that strengthens a distinctive sonic identity, blending retro aesthetics, club culture and cinematic sensibility into a cohesive body of work.

The title track unfolds through refined dynamic control. Warm multilayered percussion, textured guitars and a deep yet restrained bassline create an organic groove that evolves gradually rather than relying on obvious drops. The production favors subtle progression and hypnotic growth, resulting in elegant, mature dance music.

Goodbye expands the project’s narrative dimension. Inspired by the atmosphere of Italian ’70s library music, the track represents the protagonist’s theatrical exit from the club — not a melancholic farewell, but a charismatic closing scene. A playful detail emerges when Dandolo (Cosmo Dance’s alter ego) delivers an ironic “cough solo” precisely as an off-voice introduces Mr. Coconut, adding a self-aware cinematic twist.

Dub nuts explores deeper dub-informed territory. Built through layering and subtraction, the track showcases careful spatial control and restrained low-end management.

The EP closes with the Coccappella Version, a stripped-down reinterpretation of the title track focused solely on percussion and voice, revealing the rhythmic backbone of the project.

Mr. Coconut is a refined balance between club functionality and cinematic storytelling — controlled, elegant and unmistakably personal. It’s not about peak-time fireworks — it’s about atmosphere, detail and identity.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.