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Three years after the release of his critically acclaimed album "Salone",
Bai Kamara Jr returns with "Traveling Medicine Man", a 13-track
collection of blues songs portrayed in Bai's unique style
In a descriptive, provocative and sometimes suggestive way, the tales of love, life,
relationships, politics and innuendo are meticulously explored by the
raconteur.''Traveling Medicine Man is the continuation of my introspective journey
through my roots and my perpetual quest to make my two homes, Africa and
Europe, coexist within me. The title was inspired by my maternal grandfather
Tinka Tanner Kargbo, born in 1901 in the Northern Province of Sierra Leone. He
was educated by the Wesleyan Missionaries and later traveled with them across
the country to help provide medical care to villagers and townspeople. I was
fortunate enough to have spent some time with my grandfather when I was still a
child, and one of the things that fascinated me the most about him was his ability
to reconcile his Christian beliefs with his traditional African beliefs and
customs.'' (Bai Kamara Jr)For the making of this album Bai brought his touring
band, The Voodoo Sniffers, into the studio; these exceptional musicians
contributed to Bai's unique and evolving sound. With a percussive nature at the
heart of the arrangements this rootsy blues is spiced up with an afro vibe, making
you want to get up and dance more often than not. May your listening experience
be soothing and pleasurable with a healing effect

Brigid O'Neill's new album The Truth & Other Stories, recorded at Skinny Elephant Studios in Nashville with Neilson Hubbard in the producer's chair, cannot help but be influenced by the times which informed it, 'very few people escaped being affected by the pandemic, writers included.

Somehow the experiences of it seeped through onto our work and I feel The Truth and Other Stories is no exception in that regard.'
That said, this is not specifically an album about Covid or the pandemic, 'I was fascinated by the concept of 'truth' and intrigued by the concept of everyone having a different version of their truth....a personal viewpoint, their own narrative, their own story. The title plays a bit with shades of meaning - a 'counter positioning' if you like. The 'other stories' may challenge the truth, but 'the truth'
retains that sense of the absolute. In the songs I hope to present the realities of different characters through short stories. As I moved through the pandemic however, different stories came to light and sometimes the focus would shift.

Ultimately though, I have been living with these stories and these characters for some time now.'
Neilson Hubbard as producer was an obvious choice for O'Neill. A growing relationship with Nashville had seen her writing, playing and developing relationships with the many truly great musicians available across Music City.

"Being in Nashville with a producer like Neilson who has such an intuitive feel for that music, and with access to musicians who simply live and breathe it, seemed like a good idea. I'd met Neilson a few times through our mutual friend and musician Ben Glover, and it was quickly clear we would get along and had a similar attitude to the music production process. When choosing a music
producer, listening to their catalogue of works is crucial, but so too I think is that 'gut feeling' and knowledge that you can connect. When I sent Neilson my music, I knew he 'got it' and I knew I was in safe hands." Recent years have seen Brigid O'Neill gaining a deserved reputation as one of Ireland's finest songwriters. Reviews of her critically acclaimed latest releases
have reaffirmed that the gifted artist is one of the most versatile, unique and fearless storytellers on the island. Her genre-spanning music appeals to multiple generations, effortlessly weaving elements of folk, country and jazz into relatable tales of happiness, heartbreak and the human condition.

"I wrote half of these songs when my energy was either headed in the wrong direction or already there. I wrote the other half while my energy was moving in a direction I'm more excited about, that I find to be more enriching. They're all still my songs though. My mother, and lots of my relatives, used to call me "Angelito."

Little Angel. The taijitu is the symbol for yin and yang. Opposites that make a whole. Given the dualistic/ duelistic nature of the songs on the record, put it all together and what do you get, Anjelitu.

Lovesick – everyone knows it, everyone hates it. Everyone feels alone. Everyone questions the previous relationship and what has been said during it. Everyone tries to numb the pain of this all-encompassing suffering with alcohol and drugs. Everyone calls at four in the morning and leaves embarrassing love confessions on the answering machine that will be never heard. Everyone feels alone and tries to find solace in casual acquaintances in bars, only to be turned away for being pushy. Everyone lays up for weeks stalking the likely reason this relationship ended, oh! It didn’t have to end, it was all so nice and this new one can’t be good and he/she won’t be good if the plans I’ve been making here for nights come true…oh how nice would this be! Oh it can’t be, maybe I just can’t be loved… maybe I just should…

Everybody knows it.

But from now on you never have to go through all that heartbreak alone again because we Herzschmerz Versicherungen have the solution! We are a band from Stuttgart, somehow only classified as dilletantic strange in the genre. We are at your side and take care of you when your heart hurts!

Book one of our numerous insurance packages today, or just listen to our songs – that helps too!

“Denn wenn du dir nicht sicher bist und deine Liebe bald zerbricht: Komm, schöner Mensch und kauf doch eine Versicherung bei mir, Bei Herzschmerz bin ich dann immer da, bei dir!”

Iassen Markov & Jannik Haller

When the pandemic hit, Hannah van Loon adopted a dog named Gizmo, who became a much-needed companion while the Bay Area musician wrote her second album as Tanukichan. Aptly Named after her new four-legged friend, GIZMO is an exercise in release, whether from situational hindrances—a forced lockdown, for one—or from self-imposed hedonistic coping mechanisms.“ A theme I always had floating around was escape,” van Loon explains of her follow-up to 2018’s Sundays. “Escaping from myself, my problems, sadness and cycles.”

To channel the more uplifting spirit she wanted for GIZMO, van Loon turned to the radio pop-rock of her childhood: “I was struck by the in-your-face positivity of the lyrics,” she adds,referencing artists like 311, The Cranberries, and Tom Petty. “I wanted to bring that positivity while writing about the sad and helpless emotions I’d been grappling with.” But GIZMO’s lightheartedness doesn’t make it shallow: “I think that I could let it go, as beautiful as snow,” she murmurs on “Don’t Give Up,” a nu metal-meets-Cocteau Twins groove about the sudden awareness that all the relationships you depend on could vanish instantaneously. Van Loon’s main collaborator on GIZMO was Toro y Moi’s Chaz Bear, and the jangly pop earworm “Take Care” showcases the heavily distorted, in-your-face guitar work reminiscent of Bear’s own psych joints What For? And Mahal. On the hypnotic, wall-of-sound-rocker “Thin Air” featuring Enumclaw, van Loon channels the triumphant grit of The Smashing Pumpkins as she ponders the impermanence of even the most impactful relationships: “I’ll always have the memories/Of how you used to make me see/Until they fell in the ocean/They’re not swimming/They’re not floating.”

Existentialism aside, GIZMO also sees van Loon break out of her sonic comfort zone. “One ofthe main changes of how I’m approaching music now is that I want to have more fun in the process,” she says, and she walks the line between melodrama and whimsy gracefully: “I can learn something because I’ve been here before,” she sings on the soaring, bittersweet “Been Here Before.” Deftones-inspired thrash drums and screeching electric guitars are gracefully contrasted with van Loon’s hypnotic, almost deadpan vocal style and a crystal clear acoustic guitar she describes as “cute.” Gizmo the dog suddenly passed away right as van Loon finished the album, but he’s immortalised with his photo on the cover—a fitting emblem of this new era of Tanukichan.

Kate NV's WOW offers listeners a prismatic shift in perspective and scale, a parallel dimension in which the mundane becomes funny, unfamiliar, and altogether sensational. Turning the contents of her 2020 album Room for the Moon upside down and spilling them across a floor checkered with intrigue and surprise, Kate places sound, object, and ritual under the microscope to magnify the delight hidden in plain sight of everyday life. WOW is Kate Shilonosova's fourth full-length release as Kate NV in six years, and third for RVNG Intl. Her prolific musical output aligns with a highly attuned aesthetic and a deep commitment to visual world building. WOW is one of many of these worlds in which music is fully saturated with color, deeply tactile and textural. Shiny, sproingy, plastic. Where Room for the Moon embraced structure (abstractly speaking) and veered pop, WOW happily abandons conventional song shapes, parsing the experience of musical time into ecstatic fragments. It's difficult to imagine a more fitting album title: pure exclamation, an organic pitch of delight leaving the mouth, with no clear etymological links. On Room for the Moon, Shilonosova's voice was layered and lyrical, with sweeping and urgent melodies. WOW finds her as a peripheral purveyor of high jinks, peeking out from the corners, commenting on her surroundings in non-verbal, and arguably non-human, utterances. Instead of employing lyricism, Shilonosova steps outside of language, and rewards us with a gum ball machine of textures: soda fizz and wind-up teeth and scraps of bubble wrap become comically huge, as if heard from an insect's perspective. Words are tasty plosives, onomatopoeias, percussive chirps and one-liners, and singing serves as another form of what Shilonosova refers to as "funny tiny sounds." WOW skews and skitters, trips over its own feet and laughs about it, plays out of tune on purpose, tilts and leans like a top-heavy flower. Shilonosova is a longtime user of Found Sound Nation's Broken Orchestra sample pack, a sound catalog of over one thousand dilapidated instruments sourced from Philadelphia public schools. These perfectly imperfect instruments are tightly spliced into WOW's patchwork of synthesizer and reworked snippets of Shilonosova's friends playing clarinet, flute, and marimba. It's central to the record's internal logic: a disregard for what is, and isn't, broken, what is, and isn't, a sentence or a song. A commingling of subject and object, with a firmly new wave sensibility. Shilonosova has long had an unusual relationship with inanimate objects (citing her bicycle as her best friend), as if the joys they evoke for her are personality traits of the objects themselves. On WOW, she evinces a kind of inverted anthropomorphism: she shrinks her voice and becomes an object among multitudes, toylike in size and perspective, cohabitating with sedentary, indifferent roommates. This pursuit of childlike perspectives is a thread that runs through much of her catalog, and places her work on a plane with that of her personal hero Nobukazu Takemura, who for decades has treated his music as a portal to childlike curiosity, both in subject matter and tone. With an invitation to pursue this curiosity, WOW further confirms Kate NV's deeply inventive, fluid and technically dizzying artistry. By refusing constraints and rules, Shilonosova embodies a profound freedom, allowing objects, sounds, and processes to unfold organically; or, as she puts it, a commitment to "accepting randomness." She succeeds terrifically at a breed of auditory defamiliarization that is all her own, and the rewards for listeners are many: through her lens, the small becomes monstrous, the abstract becomes sensorial, and the old becomes new. Kate NV's WOW will be released on February 10, 2023 on vinyl and digital formats. On behalf of Kate NV and RVNG, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit War Child, an organization that supports children and their families impacted by conflict, and working to build sustainable peace for generations to come.

Yellow Vinyl

Kate NV's WOW offers listeners a prismatic shift in perspective and scale, a parallel dimension in which the mundane becomes funny, unfamiliar, and altogether sensational. Turning the contents of her 2020 album Room for the Moon upside down and spilling them across a floor checkered with intrigue and surprise, Kate places sound, object, and ritual under the microscope to magnify the delight hidden in plain sight of everyday life. WOW is Kate Shilonosova's fourth full-length release as Kate NV in six years, and third for RVNG Intl. Her prolific musical output aligns with a highly attuned aesthetic and a deep commitment to visual world building. WOW is one of many of these worlds in which music is fully saturated with color, deeply tactile and textural. Shiny, sproingy, plastic. Where Room for the Moon embraced structure (abstractly speaking) and veered pop, WOW happily abandons conventional song shapes, parsing the experience of musical time into ecstatic fragments. It's difficult to imagine a more fitting album title: pure exclamation, an organic pitch of delight leaving the mouth, with no clear etymological links. On Room for the Moon, Shilonosova's voice was layered and lyrical, with sweeping and urgent melodies. WOW finds her as a peripheral purveyor of high jinks, peeking out from the corners, commenting on her surroundings in non-verbal, and arguably non-human, utterances. Instead of employing lyricism, Shilonosova steps outside of language, and rewards us with a gum ball machine of textures: soda fizz and wind-up teeth and scraps of bubble wrap become comically huge, as if heard from an insect's perspective. Words are tasty plosives, onomatopoeias, percussive chirps and one-liners, and singing serves as another form of what Shilonosova refers to as "funny tiny sounds." WOW skews and skitters, trips over its own feet and laughs about it, plays out of tune on purpose, tilts and leans like a top-heavy flower. Shilonosova is a longtime user of Found Sound Nation's Broken Orchestra sample pack, a sound catalog of over one thousand dilapidated instruments sourced from Philadelphia public schools. These perfectly imperfect instruments are tightly spliced into WOW's patchwork of synthesizer and reworked snippets of Shilonosova's friends playing clarinet, flute, and marimba. It's central to the record's internal logic: a disregard for what is, and isn't, broken, what is, and isn't, a sentence or a song. A commingling of subject and object, with a firmly new wave sensibility. Shilonosova has long had an unusual relationship with inanimate objects (citing her bicycle as her best friend), as if the joys they evoke for her are personality traits of the objects themselves. On WOW, she evinces a kind of inverted anthropomorphism: she shrinks her voice and becomes an object among multitudes, toylike in size and perspective, cohabitating with sedentary, indifferent roommates. This pursuit of childlike perspectives is a thread that runs through much of her catalog, and places her work on a plane with that of her personal hero Nobukazu Takemura, who for decades has treated his music as a portal to childlike curiosity, both in subject matter and tone. With an invitation to pursue this curiosity, WOW further confirms Kate NV's deeply inventive, fluid and technically dizzying artistry. By refusing constraints and rules, Shilonosova embodies a profound freedom, allowing objects, sounds, and processes to unfold organically; or, as she puts it, a commitment to "accepting randomness." She succeeds terrifically at a breed of auditory defamiliarization that is all her own, and the rewards for listeners are many: through her lens, the small becomes monstrous, the abstract becomes sensorial, and the old becomes new. Kate NV's WOW will be released on February 10, 2023 on vinyl and digital formats. On behalf of Kate NV and RVNG, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit War Child, an organization that supports children and their families impacted by conflict, and working to build sustainable peace for generations to come.

With her hypnotizing voice and vivid lyricism, Jackie Mendoza makes fantastical, intimate electro-pop propelled by ukulele-based dance grooves. Having grown up between her birthplace of Chula Vista, California and Tijuana, Mexico, the 29-year-old singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist bridges these two worlds with dynamic soundscapes that pull from Latin pop, electronic music, and indie pop. She creates a musical universe that exists beyond strict borders of genre and geography, giving her the space to traverse the vast expanse of her interiority. Mendoza first started performing in 2014 as the vocalist for Brooklyn dream pop bands Gingerlys and Lunarette. She then broke out as a solo artist with her 2016 pop hits "Islands" and "La Luz," which showcased her imagery-packed, yet deeply introspective lyrics. On LuvHz, her 2019 adventurous debut EP that was initially inspired by a painful breakup, she turned her personal experiences into songs that observe greater truths about the world around her. As a result, the project became a broader reflection on varying forms of love, in relationships with your partner, your culture, and the natural environment. Mendoza expands this approach on her debut album, Galaxia de Emociones (Galaxy of Emotions), which sees her exploring a great range of feelings, from depression, celebration, outrage, numbness, hopelessness, and thrilling love. She uses each emotion as a portal to convey the intricacies of her experience as a queer, first-generation Mexican American woman, who actively defies and criticizes machismo and the Christian culture she was surrounded by. Brought up in the suburban border town of Chula Vista, she recalls being told by her parents to not mix English with Spanish, but speaking "spanglish" quickly became inevitable. It wasn't until high school, that learning to play ukulele and singing in school musicals allowed her to authentically express herself. "This album is about finding the courage to not only face my emotions, but also sharing them by singing them out loud." Mendoza says. The project was co-written and co-produced by Mendoza and Rusty Santos (Animal Collective, Panda Bear), with a contribution from Grammy winning producer and accordionist Ulises Lozano. As Galaxia de Emociones cruises from shimmering indie pop to accordion-laced electronic norteño, Mendoza proves there is both power and tenderness in embracing the fullness of your being and not doubting your instincts that might have been discouraged by society. She says it all in the opening song, "Natural," which blooms with spacey synths and twinkling ukulele plucks. "There is no use in controlling what comes natural to you," she sings in Spanish in a spellbinding loop. With her new album, she hopes that listeners can connect with her words and look within to explore their own galaxy of emotions.

Electronic music legend and head of Editions Mego, Peter Rehberg, teams up with zeitkratzer mastermind Reinhold Friedl. 3 side-long pieces melting electronic / contemporary avantgarde. Uncompromising.

When Peter "Pita" Rehberg and Reinhold Friedl first met each other, they did not like each other "at all," as Friedl emphasises with a hearty laugh. The two would however eventually bond over the years thanks to a mutual respect for each other's music. In the summer of 2021, they entered the studio together for the first time. Their joint album for Berlin's Karlrecords is a faithful document—no editing, no overdubs—of their improvisations during two recording sessions shortly before Rehberg's sudden and untimely passing on July 22nd of that year. The three pieces see Rehberg working with electronics and Friedl with his inside piano, proving that they had indeed managed to find a common ground—up to a point where it at times becomes hard to tell who plays what on this record.

Friedl ran into Rehberg in Zbigniew Karkowski's tiny Tokyo apartment in 1999 while organising the first edition of the Off-ICMC that was set to take place in the following year. "I came uninvited and slept a night at Zbigeniew's before Peter arrived and I had to move out," remembers Friedl, who ended up inviting the Mego founder to perform at the Off-ICMC even though he found it hard to relate to his music. "We had very different backgrounds: he came from industrial and I had roots in classical music and improv, a high-brow prick!" After having met several times at different concerts without ever really speaking to each other in the following years, a concert in Vienna in the late 2010s marked a turning point in their relationship (or lack thereof). Playing their sets back to back and loving every second of what the other was doing, the two finally clicked on musical level. "We met for dinner on each of the three following nights!," remembers Friedl.

The two would go on to become good friends, meeting regularly to discuss music and everything else while both were living in Vienna just a few minutes away from each other. Rehberg put out Friedl's collaboration with Eryck Abecassis, "Animal Électrique" on his Editions Mego label in 2020 and eventually they entered the studio twice for sessions that were completely improvised with no prior preparation. "Caciara," "Chiasso," and "Clamore"—named retrospectively after three Italian words for "noise"—capture the spontaneity of two artists who had always been outliers in their respective fields finding a common ground in sprawling dynamics and sonic intensity as well as enabling each other to expand their individual sound palettes. "Peter gave me cover," explains Friedl. "I had the feeling that I was able to do things I otherwise wouldn't play."

“Mt. Hadamard National Park” is the Hallow Ground debut by composer, programmer, and instrument designer Matthias Puech. Informed by mathematical and artistic approaches that aim to both contemplate on and control complexity, the eponymous five-part composition explores natural and mystical forces through what he calls “audio-naturalist noise”. The composition is complemented by two further pieces that follow similar concepts: “Suspension” emulates the chemical phenomenon of the same name, while “Imperceptible Life” hinges on the musical possibilities of stridulation. Over the course of the entire album, Puech’s singular take on electro-acoustic and electronic music creates unique sonic spaces as much as it pays its dues to the unpredictability of the world that we inhabit. Jacques Hadamard was a pioneer among physicists and mathematicians who, in the early 20th century, were puzzled by processes that are deterministic but hard to predict. The sounds, arranged in sweeping and tense dynamics, serve as multiple agents within a complex system. The synthetic flora and fauna created through the use of the composer-performer’s instruments feels uncannily familiar or even disturbingly hostile at times... This process is mirrored in aquatic yet tangible sounds as well as dynamics that slowly converge towards density before the composition ends on a quiet note. The 14-minute-long “Imperceptible Life” is based on a 2019 live performance first conceived as a full-scale test drive of some new electronic equipment Puech was designing at that time. It explores the musical potential of stridulation, the act of creating sounds by rubbing together certain body parts—in the insect world, a common means of communication. Again, Puech’s approach is neither purely naturalistic nor only mimetic. Rather, “Imperceptible Life” offers yet another artistic reflection on the theme of chaos and order, and how human perception and emotion relate to it.As a whole, “Mt. Hadamard National Park” thus not merely mirrors natural phenomena but transforms them in ways that are emotionally evocative: the complexity and apparent arbitrariness of Puech’s compositions reveal an underlying beauty that is equal parts haunting and comforting.

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Dark Green Vinyl

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Faitiche presents the album Exq I by Berlin underground techno legends Muellie Messiah & Punk not Punk, mainly known under their 100Records moniker. Weighing in at 36 minutes, the track was recorded in 2010, effortlessly intermingling dub, drone and collage, a blend achieved thanks to the duo’s jazz-inspired approach to improvisation.

_

100records is one of the last undiscovered treasures of the Berlin underground of the 1990s and 2000s. Like Elektro Music Department, 100records is unthinkable without techno and the club scene, but with a few exceptions the duo’s tracks are not aimed at the dancefloor. With a claim to universality and a broader frame of reference, 100records developed a more extensive understanding of sound that rests on three pillars: the understated analogue drums of the Roland TR-808, a blurred, dubby sound, and improvisation.

On first hearing, Exq I has little in common with the groovy, detailed, variation-rich sound usually associated with 100records. Recorded at the end of a highly productive decade, it is an echo speaking of exhaustion in which dub, drone and collage converge to form something whose jazz sensibility makes it readily identifiable as the work of 100records.

100records was founded in 1994 by Muellie Messiah (Dirk Budde) and Ekki 808 (Ekkehard Rau), who were joined in 1999 by Punk not Punk (Martin Osti). Around 2002, Ekki departed, leaving Budde and Osti to continue as a duo. Since then, their relationship has shaped 100records: Budde is the driven lone genius doggedly pursuing sounds, Osti the pragmatist who turns ideas into music.

As well as making music, Budde is also a musicologist. In 1997 he published his PhD thesis entitled Take Three Chords... Punk Rock and the Development to American Hardcore. As well as being his specialization, punk is also part of his identity: in the 1980s he sang and played keyboards in various punk bands in Kassel, the best known being Haunted Henschel.

After the fall of the Wall, attracted by the freedom of the newly reunited Berlin, Budde packed his bags and drove to the formerly divided city, having already become acquainted with techno at Kassel’s influential Stammheim club.

Raucous, fuzzy new cut, ‘Falling Apart’, “takes you
on a journey through a hopeless chaos of love,”
explain the band. “It goes beyond a relationship’s
horizon, the point of no return - where everyone
nvolved is getting sucked in and spat out.”

The final taster from the band’s ‘After Taste’ EP,
ecorded with Dave McCracken (Sports Team, Pip
Blom, The Snuts) and Caesar Edmund (St Vincent,
Queens Of The Stone Age, Interpol).

Earlier singles, such as ‘Spit Me Out’ and
Landslide’, solidified the trio as one of the UK’s
most exciting new indie bands on the circuit, with
op support coming from the likes of NME, Dork,
The Line of Best Fit, 6 Music’s Steve Lamacq and
Radio 1’s Jack Saunders.

As soon as the pilots of the Space Oddities endeavour decided to tackle Yan Tregger's oeuvre, a major problem surfaced: where to begin? And where to end? Upon which side should one launch into the ascension of this body of work? It will have taken Alexis Le-Tan and Jess years to put up this selection, capturing the profusion and eclecticism of Tregger who, at 81 years old, has yet to lay down the arms and still defines himself as a "jack of all trades". Symphonies, library music, movie soundtracks, TV credits, advertisement, French variété, pop, disco, electronic, experimental or relaxation music, Yan Tregger (born Edouard Scotto di Suoccio) took up all genres, styles and formats through a career spanning from the end of the 50s to this day. How the Stakhanovist successfully went down so many different routes can be explained by his innate talent for composing melodies; they are the very basis on which his iconoclastic production was built. Ten years ago already, Yan Tregger had welcomed us in the studio of his Parisian suburb pavilion. There, sat in front of his machines and albums framed on the wall, he had delved into the midst of a life writing itself like would a rather unusual musical score.

Recorded at the height of the global pandemic, and at a time when remote communication was becoming increasingly prevalent, "Choreological Exchanges" is part of Hastings Of Malawi's continuing investigations into the medium of communication itself. Prior to telephony becoming digital, all phone calls were routed through mechanical telephone exchanges, and the majority of the sounds on side one are the sounds of these exchanges and some of the voices of the engineers who worked with them.

Hastings Of Malawi make strange records and this one is no exception although it has a more linear narrative structure in opposition to what critics have described as their Dadaist approach. Their records certainly resist genre classification and do not really fall into the category of music. Hastings Of Malawi have themselves described previous records as films without light, radio plays and as poems. This one is a dance - a dance that takes place within the chain, or pipe, that is brain - mouth - telephone - telephone exchange - telephone - ear - brain.

"It is a dance record but not in the way that these are usually understood. An invitation to dance appears twelve minutes in on the first side. It is a dance within the wires, movement around noise used as a sculptural material rather than unwanted signals and a joyful exploration of sonic materiality. The second side begins with the voice of a telephone engineer, who states that in the top floor switch room of the exchange is the only vestige of human control. Is this top floor switch room the human brain? The sounds on this side, float between the mechanical telephone exchange and the body where the messages are created and interpreted - it is an exploration of the relationship between thought and the material devices in which telephone sound is propagated and transformed. Side two ends with a long list of randomly generated words created by digital voice synthesis." - HOM

Repress!

“This album has been built, robbed, destroyed, rebuilt, held up, postponed, cancelled, shelved, bootlegged, analyzed, exploited, slept on, supported, patiently awaited, and appreciated, long before you got your hands on this slim neat little package.

This collection of thoughts, songs and relationships has literally been on the verge of completion since 1997. It was intended to finally be released in 1999. Most of the songs were written between 1995 and 1998. However, from the first to last verse, it reaches as far back as 1988 and stretches forward up to 2001. Throughout this tedious, relatively arduous process, the people involved in this project have successfully delivered the intended message that was conceived, forged, and galvanized through its delivery. The understanding is the best part. Enjoy!”

Originally intended for release in 1999, The Best Part was shelved multiple times due to label politics, until it was finally released in 2001, as J-Live points out in his prologue above. Now it’s getting the much deserved re-issue treatment.

With an All-Star production team featuring Pete Rock, Prince Paul, DJ Premier, DJ Spinna, 88 Keys & Grap Luva, along with J’s crafted and precise lyricism, this is one not to miss!

On her third album, Berlin-based Dutch-Italian composer and sound designer Aimée Portioli, aka Grand River, asks what guiding forces might be driving, enticing, and affecting us. “All Above” is rooted in her deeply personal philosophy as an artist, blurring the boundaries between electronic music and acoustic music and sculpting familiar ambient forms into personal themes painted with rich emotional colours. Written painstakingly over the last two years, the album is the most ambitious and divergent set of music Portioli has assembled so far, with a wide variety of instrumentation (including voices, strings, organs, guitars, and synthesisers) focused around the piano. She‘s keen to assure listeners that while that instrument isn‘t always heard, it‘s constantly at the forefront of the album, shepherding its emotions and anchoring its mood. It makes sense then that on the opening track ‘Quasicristallo’, the acoustic piano is the first element we hear, recorded closely, so its characteristic rattle and creak can speak as loudly as the familiar tones themselves. When the music blooms into abstraction and processed electronics, it‘s almost imperceptible: reverb mutates into ghostly vapour trails, and distortion forms the keys into another instrument entirely.

“All Above“ follows 2020‘s acclaimed “Blink A Few Times To Clear Your Eyes“ and 2018‘s “Pineapple” released on Donato Dozzy and Neel‘s Spazio Disponibile imprint. Having garnered praise from outlets like Resident Advisor, XLR8R, The Quietus, Inverted Audio, and The Verge, Portioli operates in a unique space within the electronic music scene, straddling the art world and the wider electronic music scene. She‘s developed sound art installations for Rome‘s La Galleria Nazionale and the Terraforma Festival-related Il Pianeta, and has appeared at Barbican, MUTEK, Le Guess Who?, Kraftwerk, and other internationally renowned venues and festivals, often collaborating with Marco Ciceri on A/V presentations. Ciceri also maintains the visual identity of Portioli‘s label One Instrument, a concept imprint that asks artists to create music only using a single device. All this experience is poured into “All Above”, a richly visual album that‘s far more than just an imaginary film score. While on ‘Human’, her piano punctuates a rhythmic synthesised bassline and smudged choirs that can‘t help but trace out the silver screen. The composer is keen to clarify that she doesn‘t think of her music (or sound in general) in visual terms.

Portioli studied as a linguist and used her art to develop an emotional language that‘s not bound by expected cultural constraints. When she adds a different instrument or process, it‘s not to reference a visual cue but to mark a journey through different states of being. Each element embodies a different emotion or mood: the electric guitar represents strength or violence, synthesisers shuttle us into the dream world, and the acoustic instruments highlight intimacy and warmth – even heart. Read like this, the tracks are like meditative poems rather than cinematic vignettes: ‘The World At Number XX’ is seemingly centred around a chugging synthesised arpeggio, but the cosmic, Klaus Schulze-esque pads, strangled guitar and evocative organ tones hint at the open-hearted, literate psychedelia of the 1970s; ‘In The Present As The Future’ meanwhile is breathy and windswept, juxtaposing urgent rhythmic phrases with light, flute-like gusts of harmony.

Dedicated to Editions Mego founder Peter Rehberg, who died suddenly last year, “All Above” demands engagement and refuses to evaporate into the background. The album asks listeners not just to absorb the album as a whole but notice the cracks in the structure and discern the tension they cause. That‘s never more evident than on the closing track ‘Cost What It May’, a piece of music almost jarring when Portioli chops into noisy waves of electric guitar. In the wrong hands, this might sound like a power move – some rock posturing to act as a finale. But Portioli‘s expression is different. She‘s forcing a level of engagement that perceives the negative space as just as necessary as the saturated positive, and what could be more haunting and emotionally resonant than that?

Composed, produced and mixed by Aimée Portioli.
Mastered by Stephan Mathieu.
Cut by Andreas Kauffelt at Schnittstelle, Berlin.
Photography by Federico Boccardi.
Design and layout by Riccardo Piovesan.

Jessica Winter is the queen of sad-bangers, a purveyor of dark glittery synth-pop and a truly unique artist, as well as an acclaimed producer and writer (The Big Moon, Jazmin Bean, Phoebe Green, Walt Disco & more). Growing up on a diet of Nine Inch Nails and Siouxsie and the Banshees, her music is just as likely to channel Madonna, trap, pop, and indie disco. Much of her childhood was spent gazing out of the window from her hospital bed due to hip dysplasia, which led to a very vivid imagination to grow.

Across Jessica Winter’s debut EP ‘Limerence’ for new label Lucky Number, Winter shows her versatility as an artist, from the cinematic-pop aesthetics present in ‘Choreograph’, to a more raucous, dance-heavy approach with ‘Funk This Up’. Grounded within her unique, unmistakable style, Winter delves into everything from synth-pop, punk, and 80’s glam and cements her glimmering pop vision.

“Limerence was written during a time when I was trying to understand my relationship to love and my behaviours around it.” says Jessica; “Love confuses me so much and I think this EP demonstrates that.”

This album features Pharoah Sanders playing some no-nonsense tenor in a quartet with pianist John Hicks, bassist Walter Booker, and drummer Idris Muhammad. Sanders performs "It's Easy to Remember" (in a style very reminiscent of early-'60s John Coltrane), an original blues, and two of his compositions, including the passionate "You've Got to Have Freedom."

The musicianship is at a high level and, although Sanders does not shriek as much as one might hope (the Trane-ish influence was particularly strong during this relatively mellow period), he is in fine form. Review by Scott Yanow/AMG

Beware! This is hot stuff! Wear asbestos clothing while listening. Four world-class musicians at the very pinnacle of their art relating closely to one another in the vortex of a cyclone of jazz music. They're all burning, but listen particularly to John Hicks (R.I.P Mr. Hicks) on "DOKTOR PITT." Is he not the best thing to happen to the keyboard since McCoy Tyner? And when I state John Hicks was burning, if you've ever had the opportunity to view the video of this performance (maybe still on YouTube) recorded at the Great American Music Hall in 1981, you'll see
Mr. Hicks melting with perspiration. That's cookin' brother...
review by James S. Grogan