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Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone.

Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes. The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all."

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.

Oro Azul‘s debut offering, ‘Water Seeds,’ takes us through 4 shades of an aquatic garden. Dembow floats underneath the waves while woodblock melodies bubble up through the weeds. Sub bass shifts the tide. Some sounds are moss-like, a protective balm. Other tones come through as minerals and metals, shining in the refracted light from above.

A collaboration between Ultima Esuna and Michael Red, the music of Oro Azul took shape over the course of a year of purposeful and transformative studio sessions. This release follows the pair’s solo releases on DJ Python’s Worldwide Unlimited, Nervous Horizon, and Isla.

Debut album from Alex Ho out of Los Angeles.

In his foundational essay on Los Angeles, L.A. Glows, the essayist Lawrence Weschler speaks on the city's uncanny, immediately recognizable light; "The late-afternoon light of Los Angeles—golden pink off the bay through the smog and onto the palm fronds." Weschler traces the city's mysterious refracted light from the iconic paintings of David Hockney through the city's frequent portrayal on film and TV, noting its ability to put residents into a state of "egoless bliss."

Similarly, Alex Ho's new album for Music From Memory, 'Move Through It', radiates with the unmistakable LA glow. While the Pasadena native's studio work is just now coming to light, Ho has long been a fixture in the Los Angeles dance music scene, throwing what are perhaps the city's most musically expansive warehouse events and carving out a singular voice as a DJ, as heard on his brilliant Moony Habits show for NTS. The eight-track record, however, lands in a more contemplative zone, better suited for a golden hour drive than a night out.

Though it's his first record, 'Move Through It' is the accomplished work of a fully-formed artist, produced patiently between 2017 and 2020 with help from friends including Baba Stiltz, Phil Cho, Damon Palermo and John Jones. "Mark," the Koanic track conclusion side A, is an arpeggiated slow burn reminiscent of Pino Donaggio's brilliant score for Brian De Palma's 1984 film Body Double. Ho's stunning, pure falsetto soars above gentle melodies. "Miss Suzuki," the piece that originally caught the ear of MFM's Jamie Tiller and Tako, opens the record with a blue, cinematic sway. Ho's facility for poignant melodies—easily conveyed through saxophone, vibes, various keyboards and his own voice—shines on "College Crest Drive," as well as the title track. The lyrical "Move Through It" and the restrained and beautiful closing cut, "TYFC," are abetted by glimmering Kraut guitar figures courtesy of John Jones.

While Ho's rhythms and melodies paint a crystal-clear musical vision, the music's emotional centre is more elusive, indicative of a yearning feeling synonymous with the City Of Angels. Hitting these hazy and subtle notes, Move Through It falls within a canon of sun-addled records spanning from Herb Alpert's "Rotation" to Dam-Funk's Private Life trilogy as Garrett. An immersive and concise statement, Alex Ho's 'Move Through It' is as warm and uncanny as the city that inspired it, a definitive LA album.

It’s 2020, the year Pop Ambient turns twenty-one years old, a spritely young adult waltzing out of its teenage joys and tears. Pop Ambient has always stood for a certain classicism and elegance, a kind of beatless music that’s diaphanous and hazy, gossamer and glittering. It’s a music that’s no less inviting for its slow pace and becalmed nature, with a different kind of tension bubbling under the surface. For twenty-one years, KOMPAKT co-founder Wolfgang Voigt has curated a series of peerless compilations that repeatedly find refreshing answers to a simple question – What happens when the dancefloor is empty, and everyone’s home to drift away?

As with many other Pop Ambient compilations, Pop Ambient 2021 offers a welcome platform to contributions from both old friends and new faces. It opens with the gorgeous, slo-mo drift of “Of A Vessel”, from new Kompakt signings Blank Gloss. Sending their music out into the world from their home in Sacramento, this duo makes music that’s featherlight and luscious, the muted chime of a guitar over here, the steady hum of a halatial drone over there; everything in its right place, and nothing overdone. The poise is all. Neozaïre (Tobias Sawitzki aka Noorden) and Seventh World (Juho Hietala aka Blamstrain) are our other two new voices, the latter closing (the CD version of) Pop Ambient 2021 with a long, lambent dreamsong, Neozaïre offering us two gaseous, morphing driftworks, “Vor den Toren Europas” and “In Verschwenderischer Fülle” (CD only), etched across with bell-like arpeggios.

Pop Ambient has always felt like a field for play for the KOMPAKT cognoscenti, and 2021 is no different, with Joachim Spieth collaborating with Pepo Galán on the sidereal visions of “Libration”, while Leandro Fresco teams up with Thore Pfeiffer on the lovely “Abejorro”. Pfeiffer also contributes two lovely solo miniatures of abstract longing. Yui Onodera calls in again, long distance, for their fourth Pop Ambient running, with the refracted, glinting lightscapes of “Cromo 5” and “Monochrome”, while there are also star turns from Max Würden, both solo and in Reich & Würden (with Luis Reichard), and Morgen Wurde, who drops by with the ‘ethereal drama’ of “Mittsommer”.

Pop Ambient gets the balance right: visions and soundscapes, long-distance communications and intimate asides, sweetness and light, drama and dreaming, all wrapped up in floral abstractions – a most beautiful distraction.

Wir schreiben das Jahr 2020, das Jahr, in dem Pop Ambient einundzwanzig Jahre alt wird – das entspricht etwa einem lebenshungrigen jungen Erwachsenen, der gerade aus den letzten Teenager-Freuden und Leiden herausgewachsen ist. Pop Ambient steht seit jeher für eine gewisse Klassik und Eleganz, beatfreie Musik, die, transparent und leicht verschwommen, zart und glitzernd leuchtet. Musik, die trotz ihrer Langsamkeit und ihrer sanften Natur unter Spannung steht, weil hier immer etwas unter der scheinbar ruhigen Oberfläche brodelt.

Einundzwanzig Jahre lang hat KOMPAKT-Mitbegründer Wolfgang Voigt diese einzigartige Compilation-Reihe kuratiert, die immer wieder neue Antworten auf eine einfache Frage findet: Wie füllt man die Leere nach dem Club?

Wie viele andere Pop Ambient-Compilations bietet auch Pop Ambient 2021 eine Plattform für die musikalischen Beiträge von alten Freunden und einigen neuen Gesichtern. Es beginnt mit dem wunderbaren Slo-Mo-Drift von "Of A Vessel" von Blank Gloss, einem neuen Kompakt Signing. Das Duo stammt aus Sacramento in Kalifornien und sendet von dort seine überaus leichte und sinnliche Musik in die Welt hinaus – ein zartes Zupfen an einer Gitarresaite hier, das gleichmäßige Dröhnen eines prunkvollen Soundscapes hier; alles ist hier am richtigen Platz und passiert ohne übertriebene Betonung. Gelassenheit ist alles. Neozaïre und Seventh World sind zwei weitere Neuzugänge. Hinter Seventh World steckt der finnische Produzent Juho Hietala aka Blamstrain, der (die CD Version von) Pop Ambient 2021 mit einem epischen, flackernden Traum names “Light The Waves Before Dawn“ beschließt, während Neozaïre, ein Seitenprojekt von Tobias Sawitzki aka Noorden, zwei gasförmige, sich immer wieder morphende und abdriftende Tracks abliefert: "In Verschwenderischer Fülle" (CD only) mit seinen glockenartigen Arpeggios und “Vor Den Toren Europas“.

Pop Ambient fühlte sich immer schon an wie ein Experimentierfeld für eingefleischte KOMPAKT-Künstler, und auch 2021 ist das nicht anders: zum Beispiel Joachim Spieth’s Kooperation mit Pepo Galán ("Libration") oder Leandro Fresco, der mit Thore Pfeiffer das liebevolle "Abejorro" produzierte. Pfeiffer steuert mit “Grape“ und “Center“ zwei weitere Solo-Miniaturen voller abstrakter Sehnsucht bei. Der japanische Klangkünstler Yui Onodera meldet sich mit den gebrochen-glitzernden Lichtlandschaften von "Cromo 5" und "Monochrome" bereits zum vierten Mal auf Pop Ambient zu Wort, während Max Würden sowohl solo, als auch als Teil von Reich & Würden (mit Luis Reichard) ebenso wie Morgen Wurde schon zu den Stars dieser Compilation gehört.

Primordial Mind forms the mysteries and intensity of inner life into eight mandalic instrumentals where Mas Aya and Khôra, artists who share 15 years of music making, orchestrate an inspired, prismatic palette of percussive and melodic sources. Each composition presented stages a vigorous meshwork of colours and textures, contrasting riveting polyrhythms with towering arrangements for flutes, synths, and processed acoustic instruments. Tendencies which the artists trace in their solo practices are amplified, blended, and refracted sublimely in unison, serving as energetic portals to the collective awareness.

Combining trans-ethnic scaling alongside a heady brew of rhythmic influences and advanced electronic processing, the recordings on this album operate with a tactility that vaults between free jazz, dub, raga, ambient, and ritual music. Assimilated powers of primal drum patterning and psychoactive, ceremonial melodies, invoke fourth world adjacencies with the work of Don Cherry, Jon Hassell, Popol Vuh et al. There is an alchemical, Buddhist/Taoist/Hindu inflection that guides the record’s narrative, formed through dialogue between the artists over lifelong shared interest in spiritual modalities generally and the tantric approaches of the global east in particular. The album title is derived from an unexcelled esoteric work known as the Kalachakra (Wheel of Time)Tantra and its associated commentary the Ornament of Stainless Light which detail forms of inner and outer transubstantiation within its complex cosmology and metaphysiology.

Mas Aya is the moniker of Brandon Miguel Valdivia, acclaimed Nicaraguan-Canadian composer, producer, and musician whose electronic and jazz inspired works creatively interlace Colombian, Cuban, and a wide array of traditional music. Khôra is the name of the occult entity that uses multi-instrumentalist, producer, and writer Matthew Ramolo to pronounce itself. Returning to Marionette following 2024's monumental Gestures of Perception, Primordial Mind reinforces the rigorous and magical approach to creation which defines Khôra’s two decades of sonic output. Brandon and Matthew met back in 2011 and the pair toured around eastern Europe with Toronto band Picastro in 2013, also performing as a duo with Brandon contributing drums to Khôra's opening sets. After a short spate composing and playing in the ensemble Bespoken together, they continued to discover shared inspiration in psych/art rock, jazz, experimental and electronic music, providing a fertile soil for friendship and collaboration resulting in their collaged, lo-fi album Tangled Roots in 2017. Mythic and talismanic, the duo's Marionette debut weaves a luminous tapestry of organic pulses, offering itself as a support for resonant meditation and a motor for lucid action and intuition.

Brandon Miguel Valdivia: Percussion, Flutes, Log Drum, Korg Lambda, Angklung, Tambor Alegre, Udu
Matthew Ramolo: Modular Synth, Archival Samples, Angklung, Guitar, Duduk, Bass, Percussion, Arrangements and Mix

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.

The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.

Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.

The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.


‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

French modular tribalist Sindh launches the Komudo Origins Series on his own label with a fierce first chapter built for deep physical immersion. Still rooted in rythmic ritualism, these four tracks push further into shadowy, shape-shifting techno. 'Sauros' is the beatless opener, all hovering, menacing atmospheres and sonically refracted voices. 'Arbhar' glides along with a sleek, understated techno framework that feels like it's made of pure air. 'Mystic Sun' begins to edge towards the pumping, firing echoes and low level spoken words across a progressive-style builder, before 'Denali' closes things off via thumping, late-night techno charge. Subtle darkness, alien textures and body-focused grooves define this potent new series.

Group Rhoda returns to Dark Entries with Phase 5, a new LP of synthesizer-driven art-pop. An integral member of the West Coast electronic music scene, Mara Barenbaum has been writing, performing, and plunging into oneiric depths as Group Rhoda since 2009. Barenbaum’s songcraft is at once stylistically diffuse and laser-focused, a synesthetic approach that allows her to effortlessly glide between genres and soundworlds while centering her singular poetics. On Phase 5, her fifth LP as Group Rhoda, we find Barenbaum waxing nondualistic. Lines between fairytale and fact, between nature and art, between subject and object all dissolve under contemplation.

The songs on Phase 5 are perpetually in-between states, deftly shifting form at the blink of an eye. With sleight of hand, “Field Tone” transmutes from brooding John Carpenter-esque electro into vocoder-driven space disco. “Dragon Pine” darts from cosmic dub to cybernetic dancehall and back again. The uptempo darkwave-leaning number “Aeolian Crossing” dissolves into the void, like sand falling through one’s fingers, like a retreating wave. The cover artwork for Phase 5 is by Shawn Reed, and features purple lilies and light refracted through water. All songs on this album were mastered by Ruud Lekx. The digital version of Phase 5 will be released via Katabatik, a label and sound system that Barenbaum has had close ties to for the past decade.

Rochelle Jordan is proudly stepping into her diva era. To those in the know, the Los Angeles-based British-Canadian singer and songwriter has long been an underground force coaxing together the mutually flirtatious scenes of daring alt-R&B and heart-pumping electronic music. With her longtime creative director/producer KLSH, she’s cultivated a singular marriage of sound — mixing soulful sensuality, house bump, DnB wildness, hip-hop swagger, and pure experimentalism — that’s spread not only through certain circles, but also to the mainstream. At the same time that her gauzy 2014 single “Lowkey” was going viral in 2023 — racking up 21 million streams on Spotify alone — she was in the studio cooking with tastemaking beatsmiths like KAYTRANADA and Sango, quietly preparing to melt dance floors and headphones alike.

Now, as the timelines merge, Jordan is approaching success with the sparkle of a brand new star and the stance of someone who’s earned everything she has. Her new musical chapter aims to carry forward the magic that fans feel in her coquettish vocals and bold soundscapes even as she reaches deeper into her pop bag. The fact that her first single of 2025, the darkly dazzling “Crave,” was produced by Chicago house legend Terry Hunter (Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, Beyoncé) speaks volumes to this exact moment in Jordan’s ascendent trajectory.

“My goal when I first started making music was to bring back something that I felt had started to fade away for me,” says Jordan. “That certain essence or sound that would give me butterflies in my stomach when I’d listen to music — it would unleash some kind of chemical that would make me feel happy and excitable and curious, something that would make my soul shine. My number one goal is always: How do I give people that feeling when they listen to my music?”

Jordan grew up in Toronto raised by British-Jamaican parents. She remembers hearing one of her older brothers cycling through a variety of music at maximum volume in the room next to hers. “Reggae to soul to drum and bass to garage music to gospel,” Jordan recalls. “It was all intertwining for me at such a young age.” She developed her own sound quietly, and soon met KLSH through MySpace. They traded multiple songs back and forth daily until he flew her out to L.A. to record what would become her debut project, 2011’s R O J O. That collaboration hasn’t faltered since, resulting in sonically surprising, subtly infectious sets like Jordan’s breakthrough 2014 album 1021 (with “Lowkey”) and 2021’s dance-steeped revelation, Play with the Changes.

“If you’re talking about Rochelle Jordan, you’re talking about KLSH,” she says. “It’s one and the same. We come from the same inspiration source.” With him at her side to this day, Jordan is crafting new listening experiences as radiant as refracted light glimmering through a prism — an incredible space from within which to explore love in all its iterations — from romantic infatuation to self-affirmation, and strength in womanhood to pride for what she’s accomplished thus far.

More than a decade into her career, Jordan has arrived at a new stage of life and creativity — she’s a seasoned professional, a fully realized woman, and she’s excited to continue growing. “I know my story isn’t necessarily a new one,” she says. “I look at 2 Chainz, who became 2 Chainz way later on in his life. I look at Tina Turner, who became Tina Turner at 40. I want to be another story of resilience for people.” As she prepares to unveil more of her vision, and fans clamber for a long-awaited fourth album, Rochelle Jordan is casting aside self-doubt, and appreciating and underlining her status as a verifiably influential reigning diva in her one-of-one sonic space.

2026 Repress

The clergy is pleased to introduce you to a new initiate: Birds ov Paradise. This highly anticipated Hypnus debut comes split into three separate EP's which will be released one each full moon starting October.

Some of you may be acquainted with the music of Birds ov Paradise already as he's put out two stellar records on Jens and Aniara Recordings in 2016-2017, as well as making a contribution to our podcast series The Memoir where his sound was put on a grand display. Those of you who are new to the fantastic dream world of this very talented artist will quickly get lost in the flowing rhythms that drives his magical deep techno sound.

Early support from Etapp Kyle, Ness, Slam, Iori, Refracted, Svreca, Cio D'Or and Dorisburg to name a few.

We hope that you enjoy the trip into the Bayou.

2026 Repress

The clergy is pleased to introduce you to a new initiate: Birds ov Paradise. This highly anticipated Hypnus debut comes split into three separate EP's which will be released one each full moon starting October.

Some of you may be acquainted with the music of Birds ov Paradise already as he's put out two stellar records on Jens and Aniara Recordings in 2016-2017, as well as making a contribution to our podcast series The Memoir where his sound was put on a grand display. Those of you who are new to the fantastic dream world of this very talented artist will quickly get lost in the flowing rhythms that drives his magical deep techno sound.

Early support from Etapp Kyle, Ness, Slam, Iori, Refracted, Svreca, Cio D'Or and Dorisburg to name a few.

South London's restless pulse runs through British-Bengali musician Tara Lily's latest collaboration with the enigmatic King Krule. On 'Quiet Nights (Early Takes)', the pair craft shadowy soundscapes where hazy jazz chords and warped synths blur into something raw and hypnotic. The standout track, "Tropical Storm," described as a "lucid dream playing in our minds again and again" captures flashes of early Archy Marshall chaos, refracted through Tara's sleek and sleepy vocals, over a bed of guitar pedals, synths and DIY beats. Talking about the project Tara says: "'Quiet Nights' are some of the early sketches from a deadly quiet and beautiful period of time. For myself it was a time of stripping back, dropping down into the ground and channelling something raw and real."

Shadows fold into colour. Memory dissolves into noise. You brush up against the walls of the mind. Touch is soft as breath. On ‘B side’, Areliz Ramos follows her work’s current into its more “fantastic and elusive… and even romantic” side; a place where fantasy loosens the bolts of reality and memory, and emotion is alluringly refracted into musical collages and loose-strung compositions. Across the album, voices drift in and out of an intimate space, while pensive guitar lines stumble and bloom like scribbled unresolved notes in a diary. Beneath its icy, often chaotic surface, ‘B side’ radiates a deep sense of joy and fragility. Ramos sketches out an entire world by free association, collaging notions and echoing quiet thoughts into deeply honest snapshots of daydreams.

Areliz Ramos is a Peruvian producer living in London, recognized for an evocative palette weaving lo-fi and downtempo threads into dreamlike, abstract emo narratives. While her debut ‘Frío’ (Where to Now?), orbited around homesickness and estrangement, ‘B side’ embraces imperfection, incorporating her guitar (named "Frank"), pedals, synthesizers, and her own vocal textures for the first time, privileging emotional immediacy over technical precision. The creative process behind this album reflects a conscious decision to let go, loosen control, let intuition lead, and engage her own ‘B’ side.

Rather than constructing a safe haven from hardship, Ramos offers a cracked mirror, staring right at it, embracing that vulnerability. The gentle and beautiful ‘B side’ explores fleeting satisfaction, or the elusive comfort sitting just out of sight.

Mister Water Wet returns to Soda Gong with "Things Gone and Things Here Still," an album that radically expands the project’s purview while preserving the homespun warmth and oblique tactility that have long defined Iggy Romeu’s work. Where earlier records tilted toward the dusty swing of sample-based beatcraft or spectral minimalist jazz, here Romeu opens the frame to a more ensemble-minded approach, inviting a stellar cast of supporting musicians, including SG alumni Memotone and K. Freund, into the fold.

The result is an album that feels both broader and more intimate, with live instrumentation such as piano, strings, and reeds woven into MWW’s signature lattice of hand percussion, production sleights, and slippery time signatures. Acoustic and electronic textures bend toward each other like plants angling for the same light: bowed strings blur into vaporous pads, brushed drums scatter under riffing guitars, a horn phrase lingers in the same space as a cracked cassette loop.

A tension between decay and presence - the “things gone” and the “things here still” - runs throughout the record. At times, the music evokes a chamber session refracted through waterlogged tape; at others, it recalls the afterimage of a hip-hop instrumental slowed into an oneiric haze. In the world of MWW, memory functions less as nostalgia and more as a living fabric - mutable and resonant. "Things Gone and Things Here Still" finds Iggy Romeu at his most expansive, offering up a generous record of open spaces and porous boundaries.

A hill repeating its own name.

Ben Beinn — mountain mountain — an imagined summit, recursive and unstable.

Poole’s new album Ben Beinn follows 2024’s In a River Shadow, and deepens his exploration of environment, voice, and abstraction. If the previous record moved with flowing water and submerged hymns, Ben Beinn climbs into elemental instability: passing storms, coded skies, and sodden ground.

Across ten tracks, Poole entangles the Celtic New Age sound world — traditional instrumentation (flute, low whistle, bagpipe, piano, strings) — with synthesis, environmental recordings, and abstracted voice. The sound palette is tactile — marked by microtonal harmony, swelling dissonance, and a breathy naïvety. Voices in Gaelic, Norwegian, and English surface and dissolve, stretched beyond recognition — more weather than word.

The album’s title refers to a tautological hill — Ben Beinn, or “mountain mountain” — a recursive site where motifs surface, fracture, and re-emerge. On 365 Days of Rain, rainfall data becomes a rhythmic lattice that slips from metrical order. 1000 opens the record in cinematic emergence: mountain icicles and frozen streams swell into strings and breathy melodic weight. Pulling from the connective folktales of hill and mountain trolls — “Dance for a thousand years,” Poole writes, “for jeg har sovet tidlig så lenge.”

Recorded in Scotland between 2024–2025, Ben Beinn draws from environmental recordings of frozen hill passes, storm drains, and peat bogs using contact mics and hydrophones. Rather than simply reflecting place, these recordings press against it — layering the sonic materiality of landscape with synthesis and song. An inflection point between fabrication — folk music as performed identity, a carrier of story — and its obfuscation through digital networks, where tradition is refracted into plural forms.

Musical reference points include the emotionally saturated textures of Inoyama Land, the folk-electronic hybrids of Eli Storbekken, the hyperrealist collage practices of Noah Creshevsky, and the disquieting sonic simulations of James Ferraro. While Ferraro captures the uncanny surfaces of networked life, Ben Beinn turns inward — toward a located listening, shaped by weather, memory, and terrain.

The second in a triptych that began with In a River Shadow, Ben Beinn continues Poole’s excavation of environmental and folk material through contemporary methods. If the first record submerged itself in flowing water and submerged hymns, this one is shaped by the slow pressures of land and sky — a music of erosion, recurrence, and elemental presence.

With »Roto«, Derek Piotr revisits the aqueous terrain first explored in his 2016 album »Drono«, where the paradox of water’s stillness and perpetual motion was refracted into looping voices and glitching textures. Conceived as a »spiritual successor« and recorded in 2019, the album has lain dormant for six years before surfacing on Discreet Archive. That stretch of silence seems to have deepened its charge – the sound feels unearthed rather than made, like a whirlpool biding its time in obscurity until now.

Unlike »Drono«’s mosaic of shorter pieces, »Roto« unfurls as two expansive half-hour tracks, allowing Piotr to probe repetition with greater intensity. Vowels accumulate until they shimmer with alien sentience, drones grow dense and psychoacoustic, and the smallest digital artifacts flicker like neural sparks. The result is a work that denies familiarity; recurrence here only breeds strangeness, unspooling into a procession of hidden pulses and altered voices that resist prediction, drawing the listener deeper into a submerged, otherworldly space.

Derek Piotr is a folklorist, researcher and performer whose work focuses primarily on the human voice. His work covers practices including fieldwork, vocal performance, preservation and autoethnography; and is primarily concerned with tenderness, fragility, beauty and brutality. He has collaborated with artists including Scott Solter, Nathan Salsburg and Thomas Brinkmann across various disciplines.

He is lead archivist and creative director of the Fieldwork Archive.