Buscar:render

A musical plea for peace, love and tolerance in these troubling times. A meditative vocal from Lyrical Benjie supported by Rapha Pico on this roots gem by Dawehdread. Dubmix by the mighty Jah Works and Earth Works.

Three Supple Creations Mark The Start Of The Znr Series By Long-established Lisbon Producer And Dj, Zenner. The Walking Bass And Whimsical Accents On "solstice" And "nightingale Symphony" Recall Golden Age Losoul Or Ben Nevile, While "god Disturbs" Provides Daring Finale: A Hyped-up Broken Beat Formed Of A Whole Cupboards Worth Of Percussion, Around Which Jazzy Bass And Sharp Pads Do A Nimble Dance. Expect The Unexpected As The Znr Series Continues To Unfold.

OVER THE LAST 20-PLUS YEARS, ED UPTON HAS RELEASED AN INCREDIBLE AMOUNT OF MUSIC ON A RANGE OF LABELS, INCLUDING THE AFX'S REPHLEX. UNDER HIS BEST-KNOW ALIAS, DMX KREW, THE BRITISH PRODUCER ADDS ISTHEWAY TO THE LIST. NO OTHER INTRODUCTION NEEDED!

orrespondant welcome Berlin duo Hinode Having established themselves with a string of well received cuts on their own Science Fiction imprint, they were spotted by chance by label boss Jennifer Cardini on a recent record-shopping jaunt. With a raw, no-rules sense of machine funk running through everything they create, they're the perfect match for Correspondant and make their label debut with four numerical delights... 'I' lights the analog fire with raw sleaze and off-beat mischief. Unkempt and wily, it sets the tone for the entire EP: 'II' writhes snake-like with its slinky kicks and purring textures, 'III' slurs with bass groans and shakes with paranoid, alien melodies while 'IV' closes with much more of a tunnelling, sense-blurring experience. Total machine harmony, unbounded synthetic creativity, made to mix and wholly outer-planetary... Hinode and Correspondant are a match made in the stars.

Tiki for the Atomic Age feels like a mid-century transmission intercepted from a parallel timeline—one where hi-fi futurism, Polynesian fantasy, and postwar optimism never lost their sense of wonder. Kava Kon isn’t recreating exotica so much as reviving its original promise: escape, elegance, and possibility, rendered in warm, widescreen stereo.

Built on shimmering vibraphones, reverb-drenched guitars, analog organs, and ritual-leaning percussion, these tracks move at an unhurried pace. This is oceanic music—designed for dim lights, glowing glassware, and time stretched just enough to breathe. The lineage is clear: lounge exotica, bachelor-pad modernism, space-age pop. But this isn’t pastiche or museum work. It’s retro-futurism with intention, imagined from the future looking back.

The “Atomic Age” isn’t just aesthetic shorthand. It speaks to contrast—leisure in the shadow of anxiety, beauty alongside uncertainty, fantasy as a necessary technology. Kava Kon understands that tiki was never about geography; it was about psychology. A constructed elsewhere. A permission slip to slow down.

Pressed on vinyl, Tiki for the Atomic Age comes fully alive: tactile, immersive, and meant to be lived with. For listeners drawn to mid-century dreamscapes and modern exotica that honors the past without freezing it, this is an invitation—step sideways out of the present and into something more elegant.

2026 Repress

What an unbelievable record. From the wild cover to the iconic breakbeats, Roots from Ian Carr’s Nucleus is one of the dopest albums we know. This is seriously thick, funky-prog jazz-rock heaven. Originally released on Vertigo in 1973, other than a couple of versions at the time for other territories, Roots was never re-pressed since so it’s gone on to become another one of those impossible to find records.

Maybe it was a little too out there for the time, but it’s aged very, very well indeed and this Be With re-issue, re-mastered from the original analogue tapes, shows off just why this deserves to be back in press.

Genius trumpeter and visionary composer Ian Carr was one of the most respected British musicians of his era. He was a true pioneer and saw the potential in fusing the worlds of jazz with rock, just as Miles Davis and The Tony Williams Lifetime did in the US. In late 1969, following the demise of the Rendell-Carr quintet, and tiring of British jazz, Carr assembled the legendary Nucleus. Regarding music as a continuous process, Nucleus refused to “recognise rigid boundaries” and worked on delivering what they saw as a “total musical experience”. We can get behind that.

Under bandleader Carr, Nucleus existed as a fluid line-up of inventive, skilled musicians. This constant evolution and revolution was all part of the continuous musical exploration and discovery that took jazz to new levels.

Working together with producer Fritz Fryer and engineer Roger Wake, the seven compositions by Carr, Brian Smith and Dave MacRae that make up Roots flirt with perfection, and Nucleus at that time made up of the cream of 1970s UK jazz with Brian Smith on tenor saxophones and flutes, Dave MacRae on piano and electric piano, Jocelyn Pitchen on guitar, Roger Sutton on bass, both Clive Thacker and Aureo De Souza on drums and percussion, Joy Yates delivering the vocals and of course Carr on trumpet.

The spellbinding title track immediately renders the album indispensable. Riding the illest of loping breakbeats, “Roots” is low-slung, doped-out heist-funk. An absolute monster. If it sounds familiar then that’s likely down to it being sampled by Madlib for Lootpack and Quasimoto’s “Loop Digga”, as well as by a whole host of beat manipulators. “Roots” conjures prime instrumental hip-hop / beat music, only 20 years ahead of its time. Truly, these are the roots. Through sinuous bass, twinkling keys and a hypnotic guitar riff, a smoky brass motif weaves its way into a gloriously deep haze around Carr’s solos. “Roots” is over 9 minutes long, but there’s not a single wasted second, not surprising given that this is a condensed version of an originally 40 minute long commissioned composition.

The soothing vocal fusion delight of “Images” follows. Meticulously constructed, with gorgeous flute work from Brian Smith, with Joy Yates’ silky vocals and Dave MacRae’s Rhodes never sounding better. The cool, driving “Caliban” closes out the first side. Originally the third movement in a four part commission to celebrate Shakespeare’s birthday it stands up on its own, all robust rhythms and blended brass. Keyboard colour and Carr’s trumpet are splashed across the funk drums and basslines (and there’s even some bamboo flute). This really is fusion: the elements of jazz and rock coming together in beautifully synthesis.

Side two opens in riotous fashion with the short, thrilling samba of “Wapatiti”. Next up, “Capricorn” forms a smoothed-out, jazzy constellation. Mellow and dreamy, its twinkling percussion and languid horns slowly build the vibe before head-nod drums and a killer bassline enter the fray. With a distinct heaviness that Black Sabbath would’ve envied, “Odokamona” is a venomous slice of riff-soaked jazz metal (yes, you read that right), elevated by Carr’s wah-wah horns.

The album closes with MacRae’s exceptionally cosmic “Southern Roots and Celebration”. Very much in conversation with Weather Report, it opens as a languorous, spiritual jazz of chiming keys and serene guitar that turns slowly, gorgeously into a mid-paced, brass-laced banger. It’s another sure-fire party starter and the sound of the band having a righteous blast, building an ecstatic chaos that ends with Yates screaming.

And of course we need to talk about Keith Davis’ cover for Roots. Perhaps the coolest record cover of all time? Certainly one of the most bonkers. Just your run-of-the-mill high-gloss, acid-tinged airbrush dystopian/utopian living-room party scene. Consider this your chemical flashback trigger warning.

Front-and-centre the hip-to-death green robot holds court with their giant ball of yellow barbwire wool, hooked up to… something(?) being teased out from under the stairs (probably best not to ask). A thoroughly zoned-out, long-legged Pop Art party-goer lounges half-plugged in to the painting behind her as a pair of legs flail into shot from the the top of the stairs opposite. We won’t even begin to guess what the chap’s up to in the middle, but the view out of the windows is rather nice, and someone’s already got the hoover out ready to tidy up. All of the Nucleus sleeves are something special, but this particular one? Crikey.

This Be With edition of Roots has been re-mastered from the original Vertigo master tapes, Simon Francis’ mastering working together with Pete Norman’s cut to weave their usual magic with these wonderful recordings. The crazy cover has been restored at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

The fifth album from Saint Abdullah & Eomac began as a poem and became a record that refuses to stay in one place. The title arrived in a cab in Paris. Mohammad Mehrabani read it aloud from a list of options. Ian McDonnell said: that's interesting, what does that mean? The answer, it turned out, was the album. Their fifth album When The Sandbox Has No Edge is rooted in hip hop, but its cast tells you how far it travels. Abbas Zahedi, Richie Culver, and Armand Hammer contribute vocals and poetry. Lester St. Louis brings cello. Che Chen of 75 Dollar Bill brings guitar. The producer and sound designer Seraphim contributed textures and sound designs throughout. Samples run deep, from records pulled from charity shops to market stalls on road trips across the UK. Raw fragments were shaped into fully formed compositions, structuring the chaos without flattening it. The sandbox, rendered without an edge.

Plush shag carpeting, jazz flutes, analogue synths, funk grooves, exotica, and sultry, Italian-style vocalising: Erotica 70 is the new album from Larry Manteca, known for their inventive, tongue-in-cheek reimaginings of classic Italian soundtrack aesthetics.

This time around, the Milanese collective sets its sights on the distinct sonic landscape of 1970s commedia sexy—a film genre that, for better or worse, defined an era and fed richly into the cinematic education of Larry Manteca’s members.

Through this lens, Erotica 70 also becomes a way of celebrating Piero Umiliani in his centenary year—a composer whose name is closely linked to the erotic comedies of the time.

The nod to Umiliani is baked right into the details, starting with the choice of vintage gear like the Eminent synth and the Wurlitzer electric piano. These instruments deliver that particular blend of jazz, groove, electronics, and sensual charm that made the golden age of Italian film music so unique.

Standout track “Lando” is a joyful, playful homage to actor Lando Buzzanca, who starred in numerous films scored by Umiliani, including the iconic 1973 comedy La schiava io ce l’ho e tu no (My Darling Slave).

Larry Manteca is spearheaded by multi-instrumentalists Alessandro Paiola and Riccardo Danieli, flanked by the cinematic flute of Carlo Pelsa, the swinging drums of Andrea Quattrini, and the magnetic vocals of Valentina Castelli and Alessandra Maria Manzoni.

Recorded across various studios in Northern Italy, Erotica 70 is the imaginary soundtrack to an Italy that no longer exists, recreating its atmosphere while rendering it in full, vivid colour. It’s a record whose music seems to come straight out of a provincial cinema, a smoky late-night club, or a long-lost 70s film. But while it looks back to a bygone era, it does so only to bring it straight into the present, making the past sound surprisingly fresh and contemporary.

Esteemed soul crooner Sam Cooke achieved much in a short space of time, notching 29 top-40 singles in his seven-year solo career. On Night Beat, released in 1963, Rene Hall’s tasteful arrangements allow Cooke’s voice to shine, most notably on ‘Lost And Lookin’; jump blues standards ‘Shake Rattle And Roll’ and ‘Little Red Rooster’ are playfully rendered, with Billy Preston’s organ on the latter. Originals ‘Mean Old World’ and ‘Laughin’ And Clownin’ remind of his strong song-writing ability and his spirited take of ‘Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen’ recalled his days with the Soul Stirrers. A prime album for all Cooke fans!

Blume presents two pieces composed in 1970 by the American pianist and composer David Tudor (1926-1996), one of electronic music's most important pioneers, for the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, a unique artist-designed and programmed space for Expo '70 in Osaka, Japan, created by Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.). Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi deploy electronic technology as a means to experience sound in ways that are anything but matter of fact, rendering liberated environments within and through which one might democratically express and commune. Viewed through the lens of what was, is, and might have been, they offer the tools for time travel: an unmediated encounter with radical, optimistic ideas that gave way to the complex cultural landscape of our time.

Initially trained on organ and then piano, Tudor emerged as a leading figure within New York's musical vanguard after his groundbreaking 1950 performance of Stefan Wolpe's Battle Piece and the American premiere of Pierre Boulez's Second Sonata. Within less than a year he had joined the Merce Cunningham Dance Company as its accompanist, a role he kept until his death, and began one of his most lasting creative relationships with John Cage, who would state that his entire output between 1951 and the end of the 1960s was written with Tudor in mind. Christian Wolff, Earle Brown, Morton Feldman, Sylvano Bussotti, Mauricio Kagel, and Karlheinz Stockhausen all wrote works for him during the 1950s and '60s. Through indeterminacy and chance-based methods, Tudor was noted for radically intervening with the works he played, often making them entirely his own, and it was this same singularity of vision that led him to gradually abandon the piano in favor of electronic process, through which he began working as a composer in his own right.

His engagement with electronics dates to the early 1950s and Cage's Project for Music for Magnetic Tape. By the following decade the pair had moved to live electronics, with Tudor rendering works like Cartridge Music and Variations II through contact microphones and complex systems of feedback and amplification. Before modular synthesizers existed, he designed and built his own electronics, often with engineers from Bell Laboratories, producing dozens of unique instruments and processing tools that helped lay the groundwork for the technological needs embraced by most electronic musicians ever since. A clear marker of his emergence as a composer came in 1966 with 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering, where he premiered Bandoneon! (a combine), turning the cavernous performance space into a feedback instrument and a total environment. The event led directly to the founding of E.A.T. the following year by the engineers Billy Klüver and Fred Waldhauer, alongside Robert Rauschenberg and Robert Whitman.

Among the most ambitious of E.A.T.'s projects was the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, for which Tudor composed four pieces between March and April 1970: Pepsibird, Anima Pepsi, Pepscillator, and Microphone. Together with Forrest "Frosty" Myers, Robert Whitman, the sculptor and filmmaker Robert Breer, and the architect John Pearce, he was tasked with the design and function of the building: a 120-foot diameter steel and polyvinyl dome, shrouded in mist and fog and lit in the evenings by a square of intense blue-white xenon light. Tudor worked with Gordon Mumma and Fred Waldhauer on a unique sound system capable of processing and variable distribution through 37 speakers, controlled both by automated means and by the performer, and with Lowell Cross on a sound-activated laser deflection system inside the pavilion's mirrored performance hall.

Both pieces are an advanced form of musique concrète: libraries of tape recordings, live mixed and processed through the pavilion's sound console and distributed through 8 channels of stationary and rotating patterns designated by Tudor's instructions (small circle, great circle, large rhomboid, spiral, small triangles, small ovals). Pepsibird is focused upon a physical interiority, its source tapes being recordings of the brain wave activity of humans and animals: cat's eye, nerve firing, bats, EKG, alpha waves, a modified nightjar. Recorded in situ in 1970 and mixed down to stereo, it retains a striking sense of the space and ambience that Tudor achieved in performance. For more than eighteen minutes he merges subtle textures and pulses, at times resembling birdsong, within a blanket of vast, resonant ambience of subaquatic density, foreshadowing the relationship to the natural world of later works like Rainforest IV (1973).

Anima Pepsi is centered on the exterior: field recordings that Tudor made of animal and insect sounds (mosquitoes in a jar, a fly on flypaper, a wasp chewing, a beetle walking) and a mix of human and animal sounds that he called the "funny tape". Where Pepsibird deploys interior sounds in ways that allude to the natural world, Anima Pepsi pushes the sounds of nature and humanity toward the otherworldly through the clear presence of electronic sounds and processing, moulding detailed, pointillistic patterns of abstract sonority into gauzy blankets of ambience and space.

The collaboration did not last: less than a month after the opening, Pepsi withdrew its support, fired E.A.T., and disregarded Tudor's tapes, which according to accounts had to be smuggled out by staff, playing its own soundtrack in the pavilion for the rest of the Expo. Heard today, Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi anticipate many territories of later electroacoustic practice, from field recording to live processing, while the terms on which they were made, radically unpredictable, indeterminate, and experimental to the core, reconfigure what we've come to expect from electronic process, making one wonder if the past was ahead. Issued by Blume in a highly limited vinyl edition of 300 copies on red vinyl, with a 20-page LP-size booklet containing You Nakai's essay and newly commissioned liner notes by Bradford Bailey.

Fishtailing across a trimmed sod lawn, the parking lot of a box-store strip mall, a fast food drive-thru––it’s a hyperreal Americana fantasy that calls Caroline Rose (she/they) home on 'Gentling the Horse at the Walt Whitman Mall'. The release doubles as the debut of SUCK records, the LA based artist’s own imprint—a fitting next form for an enigmatic musician whose work resists settling into one shape.

'Gentling the Horse at the Walt Whitman Mall' stretches the ordinary into the uncanny. The record pairs sharply observed, memoiristic songwriting with expansive guitar textures that render the everyday with violent clarity and mythic scale. Beneath its melodic sweep and signature hooks runs a current of violence and American dream leakage.

It’s Ennio Morricone with an AR15: surf guitars, spaghetti westerns, and suburban dread colliding until they become their own sharp vernacular. Reality is unstable, so we’ll keep telling stories—and for Rose, the sinister slickness of the everyday grows a new head.

Working with producer John Congleton, Rose built the record through humor, layering, and instinct rather than polish. Songs like “Conversations with Shiv,” “Goddamn Train,” and “Everything in its Right Place” were recorded in studio for the first time, with sessions that prized first impulses over perfection. The result is panoramic but never precious—songs that feel meticulously constructed while always threatening to mutate.

Over the last six years, Rose’s music has evolved alongside their work organizing around stronger labor protections and collective bargaining rights for musicians and crews. Creative and political practice have increasingly become the same project as Rose’s career has taken on its hyper-independent form. Those concerns echo throughout 'Gentling the Horse'. Its landscapes are populated by inherited systems that feel absurd yet inescapable, where humor becomes a survival tactic and satire reveals the quiet violence embedded in everyday Am

Fishtailing across a trimmed sod lawn, the parking lot of a box-store strip mall, a fast food drive-thru––it’s a hyperreal Americana fantasy that calls Caroline Rose (she/they) home on 'Gentling the Horse at the Walt Whitman Mall'. The release doubles as the debut of SUCK records, the LA based artist’s own imprint—a fitting next form for an enigmatic musician whose work resists settling into one shape.

'Gentling the Horse at the Walt Whitman Mall' stretches the ordinary into the uncanny. The record pairs sharply observed, memoiristic songwriting with expansive guitar textures that render the everyday with violent clarity and mythic scale. Beneath its melodic sweep and signature hooks runs a current of violence and American dream leakage.

It’s Ennio Morricone with an AR15: surf guitars, spaghetti westerns, and suburban dread colliding until they become their own sharp vernacular. Reality is unstable, so we’ll keep telling stories—and for Rose, the sinister slickness of the everyday grows a new head.

Working with producer John Congleton, Rose built the record through humor, layering, and instinct rather than polish. Songs like “Conversations with Shiv,” “Goddamn Train,” and “Everything in its Right Place” were recorded in studio for the first time, with sessions that prized first impulses over perfection. The result is panoramic but never precious—songs that feel meticulously constructed while always threatening to mutate.

Over the last six years, Rose’s music has evolved alongside their work organizing around stronger labor protections and collective bargaining rights for musicians and crews. Creative and political practice have increasingly become the same project as Rose’s career has taken on its hyper-independent form. Those concerns echo throughout 'Gentling the Horse'. Its landscapes are populated by inherited systems that feel absurd yet inescapable, where humor becomes a survival tactic and satire reveals the quiet violence embedded in everyday

You know the pattern: someone calls their album "Balearic," and you immediately expect chill-out terraces, pan-flute samples, and the umpteenth return of the Café del Mar sunset. Devi G. refuses this reflex almost maliciously. The title is a trick—an invitation to disappointment for those hoping for postcard exoticism. What is actually being negotiated here is erosion, but that of the body itself: the abrasion one inflicts upon oneself in the excess of the night, when partying turns into wear and tear, and a rush becomes a graze that only becomes visible in the morning. No backdrop, then, but a wound one has voluntarily acquired.

Instead of the usual Ibiza xylophones, Devi G. digs into the rift between idyll and wear. The result reads like a séance—less José Padilla, more as if Kevin Martin had re-recorded a Manuel Göttsching record on a dying four-track deck. The target area lies somewhere between the waterlogged ambient sketches of Huerco S. and the faded dub-afterglow of Actress, but Devi G. remains consistently on his own, grainier frequency.

Balearic Abrasions (title track) opens without haste, demanding almost without impatience: no motif, no rhythmic handhold, just a slowly tilting balance between warm texture and rough surface. The grain never feels forced—it is not a lo-fi costume, but an integral part of the statics themselves. Where other ambient producers strive for perfection, Devi G. consciously seeks the breaking point. Rhythm remains a tool, never an ambition. Those expecting quick resolution will be disappointed; those willing to listen will receive a depth effect that is rarely this vivid.

Exit Through Thee Gift Shop tips into harder territory: dub-techno reduction meets industrial edge, carried by a stoic kick drum that knows no mercy. Metallic textures slice through the sub-bass, while repetitive chords hypnotize like a defective loop. Central to this is a rare Terence McKenna recording, which functions less as spoken-word ornamentation and more as a disruptive spirit between memory and media archaeology. The title—Banksy reference included—turns this into a biting punchline: radical electronic abstraction positioned against the hyper-commercialized art world.

Morning Depth pushes the claustrophobia further, somewhere between post-industrial and deep-sea dub. The track refuses any peak-time logic, preferring to disintegrate into itself, subcutaneously, methodically. At the end, a casual, almost banal vocal sample (“i defiantly prefer chocolate”) breaks into the cool machinery—a small, profane fissure that makes the coldness of the rest of the piece all the more apparent.

Desiré Algorithmic is the album's most calculated moment: a stoic, repetitive bassline as a foundation, topped with fragile melody fragments that flash like glitches in faulty code. The title reads like a promise from nightlife—a figure that suggests much and delivers nothing, because behind the façade there is simply nothing, only simulation. The track carries exactly this principle: promise without substance, desire without body, just rendering. Only in the final third does a melancholic saxophone break into the sterile structure—organic, imperfect, and for that very reason more credible than everything before it. It is the moment in which the real briefly flashes through the surface of the dummy before it closes again.

All-inclusive Residue concludes the album as sedimentation rather than dramaturgy: dub-techno remnants, industrial patina, salty ambient surfaces that settle rather than compose. The refusal of consumption as a sonic principle—brittle, stubborn, with a gravity that lingers long after.

Verdict: Balearic Abrasions is not easy listening with a sea view, but an exercise in patience and friction. The restraint with which Devi G. avoids climaxes will frustrate some—for everyone else, that is exactly where the record's strength lies. No sunset. Rather, what remains on the rocks afterward.

Deluxe LP features 140g virgin vinyl; heavy-duty board jacket, artwork by Art Rosenbaum + DL. RIYL: Bob Dylan, John Prine, Townes Van Zandt, Ry Cooder, Michael Chapman, Michael Hurley, The Youngbloods & Bonnie “Prince” Billy. Jake Xerxes Fussell’s 4th album finds the acclaimed folksong interpreter, guitarist, and singer navigating fresh sonic and compositional landscapes on the most conceptually focused, breathtakingly rendered, and enigmatically poignant record of his wondrous catalog. Produced by James Elkington and featuring formidable players both familiar (Casey Toll, Libby Rodenbough) and new (Joe Westerlund, Bonnie “Prince” Billy), it includes Jake’s first original compositions; atmospheric arrangements with pedal steel, horns, and strings. One of the most striking and strangely moving moments on Jake Xerxes Fussell’s gorgeous Good and Green Again an album, his fourth and most recent, replete with such dazzling moments arrives at its very end, with the brief words to the final song “Washington.” “General Washington/Noblest of men/His house, his horse, his cherry tree, and him,” Fussell sings, after a hushed introductory passage in which his trademark percussively fingerpicked Telecaster converses lacily with James Elkington’s parlor piano. That’s the entire lyrical content of the song, which proceeds to float away on orchestral clouds of French horn, trumpet, and strings, until it simply stops, suddenly evaporating, vanishing with no fade or trace, no resolution to its sorrowful minor-key chord progression, just silence and stillness and stark presidential absence. It feels like the end of a film, or the cold departure of a ghost, and is unlike anything else Jake has recorded. In all his work Jake humanizes his material with his own profound curatorial and interpretive gifts, unmooring stories and melodies from their specific eras and origins and setting them adrift in our own waterways. The robust burr of his voice, which periodically melts and catches at a particularly tender turn of phrase, and the swung rhythmic undertow of exquisite, seemingly effortless guitar-playing here he plays more acoustic than ever before pull new valences of meaning from ostensibly antique songs and subjects. On Good and Green Again, Jake not only ventures beyond his established mastery of songcatching and songmaking into songwriting, but likewise navigates fresh sonic and compositional landscapes, going green with lusher, more atmospheric and ambitious arrangements. The result is the most conceptually focused, breathtakingly rendered, and enigmatically poignant record of his wondrous catalog. It’s also his most deliberately premeditated album, representing his fruitful return to a producer partnership after two self-produced projects, What in the Natural World (2017) and Out of Sight (2019) (William Tyler produced his friend’s self-titled 2015 debut.) This time James Elkington produced and played a panoply of instruments, bringing to Jake’s arcane song choices his own peerless sense of harmony and orchestration, balance and dramatic tension. The pair enlisted a group of formidable players including regular bandmembers Casey Toll (Mt. Moriah, Nathan Bowles) on upright bass, Libby Rodenbough (Mipso) on strings, and Nathan Golub on pedal steel. They were joined by welcome newcomers Joe Westerlund (Megafaun, Califone) on drums, Joseph Decosimo on fiddle, Anna Jacobson on brass, and veteran collaborator and avowed Fussell fan Bonnie “Prince” Billy, who contributes additional vocals. Album opener “Love Farewell” (featuring some beautiful singing by Bonnie “Prince” Billy), an elliptical tale of the folly of war, set to the world’s most heartbreaking goodbye march for a lover left behind. “Carriebelle” and “Breast of Glass” each similarly concerns, in its own way, romantic love and leavings. All three songs highlight Jacobson’s diaphanous, understated brass parts, tying them together in a true lover’s knot. “Rolling Mills Are Burning Down,” with its distant keening strings and capacious sense of space, observes and mourns the loss of work and community in the wake of elemental disaster. Nine-minute tour de force “The Golden Willow Tree,” the sole explicitly narrative song herein, is a hypnotic, minimalist rendering of a tragic maritime ballad about scuttling an enemy ship in exchange for wealth and glory and a captain’s inevitable betrayal. “Fussell is creating his own legacy within the long lineage of traditional folk musicians and storytellers that have come before him.” The New York Times // “So elegant … It’s relaxing in the way that pondering a Zen koan is relaxing, and sweet in the way that the wounded, honey-voiced blues of Mississippi John Hurt are sweet.” Pitchfork // “Music that resides at the seams of Appalachia and the cosmos.”

Or Kantor returns with his sophomore album Snake Island, a vivid and cinematic journey through imagined landscapes and lost love, for fans of Eden Ahbez and other seekers of sound and spirit.

Following the critical success of his 2024 debut Sarda Sarda, praised by BBC Radio 6 Music, FIP Radio, RRR Australia, WYEP, KCRW, and Songlines Magazine, Kantor continues to refine his distinctive sonic identity, grounded in instrumental storytelling.

With Snake Island, Kantor ventures deeper into what he calls Subterranean Music, an atmospheric fusion of Mediterranean ballads, desert blues, spiritual jazz, and psychedelic textures. Drawing inspiration from artists such as Gábor Szabó, Omar Khorshid, The Budos Band, Dorothy Ashby, and Tommy Guerrero, he crafts instrumentals that feel both timeless and cinematic.

"Snake Island was written as a soundtrack to a fictional film that disappeared from the world, one that most likely no one has ever seen," says Kantor. "It began as a tragic love story, imagined during my time on a remote island in the Cyclades. Every landscape felt like a scene waiting for music. Eventually, the story gave way to sound."

A respected tattoo artist and founder of the Love Light Studio, Kantor's musical path began after a chance encounter with Johnny Sharoni (Garden City Movement, A&R at Anova Records). During a tattoo session, Sharoni heard Kantor's demos and was immediately struck by their raw beauty.

Kantor now steps confidently into the next chapter of his creative journey. Snake Island is more than an album. It is a mythic, imagined soundtrack to a film that only exists in memory, rendered in tones that shimmer like heat on stone.

Channeling his honed sample craft towards the ominous portent of modern times, Romare returns with his fifth album Oblivion, with the previous 3 out of 4 LP's appearing on Ninja Tune. Across a suite of downtempo, broken beat, bubbling grooves and brooding reveries Archie Fairhurst threads a narrative that wrestles with the big questions of the present moment — the tipping points of the planet and technology, the fight for social justice and the power structures that govern our existence. While his trademark source material continues to cast a long line back through recorded history, this is Romare at his most contextual.

Nothing is placed by accident. 'Machines' hums its throbbing 4/4 pulse along to a German language recital of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's 'Blessed Longing' — an enduring reflection on the human condition that rings true from way back in the 19th Century when it was written. 'Computer Love' slinks into a sumptuous trip-hop lull laced with sci-fi flourishes sculpted from samples of old computer documentaries — a bittersweet romantic backdrop to our complicated situationship with the devices in our lives. 'Take Us' goes one step further on its hard-stepping boom-bap strut as a subtle tale of possession by screens unfolds around Romare's signature strain of technicolour mutant funk.

There is space for optimism in the message on Oblivion as well — the strength of the suffragettes as a benchmark for social justice and activism amidst the speakeasy slink of ‘Deeds, Not Words', and spring-loaded acid house joint 'Change' pointing to the need for positive action in the face of imminent calamity.

The artwork for the album follows Fairhurst's thought process, drawing on Edvard Munch's iconic 'The Scream' along with Philippe Halsman and Salvador Dali’s ‘Voluptuous Death’ to help render the ideas of the album visually.

The wild ride of Oblivion races towards a final beguiling opiate on 'The Last Lullaby' — the perfect sedative after the rush of information and emotion that comes with a full-length trip through Romare's vivid, uniquely creative world of sound.

One of the most influential dub albums ever made. The remixing techniques used – radically new for 1973 – helped transform the role of the producer and the engineer to that of creative artists in their own right.

First released in Jamaica in December 1972, Upsetters 14 Dub Black Board Jungle is widely regarded as one of the first full-length dub albums and a true landmark in reggae history. Produced by the visionary Jamaican innovator Lee “Scratch” Perry, it marks the decisive moment when dub evolved from incidental B-sides into a fully realized long-playing art form. At a time when Jamaican sound system culture was flourishing, producers were beginning to strip down popular reggae tracks into instrumental “versions,” emphasizing the bass and drums for sound system deejays to toast over while adding echo and reverb effects to make things more interesting and dynamic. While King Tubby, who was in charge of mixing the tracks, was pioneering the technical foundations of dub, Perry expanded the approach by adding the hypnotic and psychedelic sound effects that made this record so rich in ideas, rendering the album more conceptually bold.

The album reworked previously released rhythm tracks by the Upsetters, which were recorded between 1970 and 1972, shortly before Perry opened his own studio – the legendary Black Ark Studio in Kingston. Their tight, groove-driven playing provided a solid backbone for these radical studio manipulations. Using the mixing desk as an instrument, tracks were deconstructed in real time – dropping vocals in and out, isolating drumbeats, pushing bass lines to the front of the mix, and sending fragments of sound spiraling into space through the heavy use of a spring reverb and tape delay effect units. Silence became as important as sound, and the interplay of rhythm and echo created a hypnotic, immersive listening experience.

Upsetters 14 Dub Black Board Jungle established dub as a genre defined by creative studio intervention. It demonstrated that the remix itself could be the main attraction, influencing generations of reggae producers and resonating far beyond into the techniques and aesthetics of post-punk, electronic music, hip-hop, and ambient sound design. By transforming the studio into a creative laboratory and elevating the “version” to an art form, this foundational album reshaped not only Jamaican music, but the whole of modern music production culture.

As a longtime member of Hot Chip and LCD Soundsystem, Al Doyle has spent decades working alongside two of the most distinct vocalists in modern pop: Alexis Taylor and James Murphy. If he’s had a song or an idea, there’s always been someone else he’d rather have sing it.
But on November 20, 2026, the British multi-instrumentalist will release Hollywood Saviour, an album that drove him to finally embrace his own voice. “It’s me discovering a way to write and sing stuff that I could live with,” he says of his first-ever solo outing.
Recorded in his East London studio, Relax and Enjoy, Hollywood Saviour has the feeling—the rush and release—of a breakthrough, of an artist letting go. Doyle’s found freedom in simplicity here, leaning into the many pleasures of guitar-bass-drums, indulging wholeheartedly in the weird, spontaneous, raucous, and raw. He sounds free.
That sense of fun and rampant possibility can be felt in every groove, Doyle finding added inspiration in the loose and the louche, from Sexual Harassment’s 1983 electro-funk raunch-o-rama “I Need A Freak” to Throbbing Gristle’s locomotive 1980 paean to jerking off, “Something Came Over Me,” which is lovingly covered here.
At times, this album feels like a delirious response to the darkness of our current moment. On opener “Hard Times in America,” Doyle offers us a psychedelic window into his experiences traveling back and forth to the United States in recent years, feeling fascism’s hold tighten with each visit.
That sense of character comes through in Doyle’s vocal approach, a giddy combination of Iggy Pop, Pete Shelley, and PIL-era John Lydon. On “All I Want for Christmas”—a dark and devastating highlight—he takes on the shape of a drug addict come holiday season, “both dead and alive,” abandoned by his family, stumbling through a garden of drum machine and piano. It’s a pop song, lovely and lovingly rendered. It just wouldn’t be the same without his voice.

2026 Repress!

Tresor Records is delighted to welcome Rod Modell to its catalogue, with the release of his new album Captagon.
Rod Modell needs no introduction, his various projects render him a master of techno. In repetition and barely noticeable change, Modell resculptures perceptions. His sound-design echoes cinematic ethereality, where ferric artefacts slam against percussion, rusty delays filter observation - the resulting web is a complex, radiating ambience that etches a natural ebb and flow.

Transformative sounds alight from the outset, “Triangulation” recalls flickering harmonies and grains, a tectonic swipe. Fast-paced dub techno emerges in “Reiki”, the disorienting clangs suggesting a step away from his recent ambient excursions. “Ito” crunches the pulse further with insistent noise, into soaring epiphanies of darkened transmissions.
Modell singularly uproots standard sonic hierarchies of techno production, crisp static as forceful as his beats, a provocation of rhythm and noise. Unceasing in its fast tempo, “Jade” is trademark Tresor business - the seismic sub-sonics underpin a momentous drive, with reverberated vocal inflections disfiguring warped, dancing materials. “Scrawler” is upfront and direct, a slamming groove and swaying chords di using ethereality. Enter vast chambers of smeared minimalism.
Where Modell’s recent releases had indicated a priority for ambient sounds, this new album extends Modell’s essential vision within techno. Closing track “Air-Port” shows Modell at his most crucial best - an ethereal colossus of sub-bass weight and morphing geometry.

Nobody knows who Transpac is.

The project first appeared as an anonymous transmission: a folder sent through the network, containing music, instructions and a name - Transpac. No photograph. No biography. Just the request to use the name and let the music speak.

There have been several transmissions since. Still no interviews, no confirmed identity, no explanation of who - or what - is behind the name.

Some say Transpac is a person. Others insist it is a machine. A few believe it is simply a data packet that escaped the network and somehow learned how to make music.

The name itself offers a possible clue. TRANSPAC was once the name of a French public data network, launched in 1978 and built around X.25 packet switching - breaking information into packets and moving them across a network long before the Internet became what it is today.

Perhaps Transpac has been travelling ever since.

Packet Switching EP is the latest intercepted transmission: six packets of pure machine music, assembled somewhere between circuitry, communication protocols and whatever exists on the other side of the network.

Whilst the packets have been received, the sender remains unknown.

Synaptic Cliffs is particularly pleased to have brought Transpac into its network - a feat made possible, not least, by its principal operative, pdqb. Through communication channels inaccessible to ordinary Earthlings, pdqb was able to locate Transpac with remarkable ease and secure its transmission for the label.

The artwork, rendered in yellow and black and largely composed of binary code, echoes the visual language of the early machine age - a world of geometric systems, electronic signals and human beings beginning to communicate with machines. Created by the legendary Infamous Image Division.

French ambient composer Franck Zaragoza continues the evolution of his Ocoeur project, moving beyond intricate sound design and beat-driven constructions into expansive, cinematic, beatless terrain.

On his eleventh album, Greener Grass, Clearer Water, Zaragoza deepens the eco-ambient themes introduced on 2024’s Breath, shap-ing a work that feels both intimate and quietly monumental. From its opening moments, a sense of stillness takes hold.

The album unfolds like a series of vignettes, glimpses of an unspoiled world rendered with clarity and restraint. These are not nostalgic visions but speculative ones, reflecting what the natural world might yet become should humanity alter its course.Rather than delivering overt statements, Zaragoza allows the message to resonate through atmosphere and tone.

The result is a subtle but persistent undercurrent, an awareness of fragility and of beauty at risk. In this way, Greener Grass, Clearer Water becomes less a warning than a quiet invocation, drawing attention to what stands to be lost. It is an arresting and finely balanced work, positioning Ocoeur at the intersection of ambient, neoclassical, and cinematic drone with renewed focus and purpose.

2026 Repress

Somniac One's fourth EP for PRSPCT XTRM is a love song to hardcore of yore, featuring two nostalgic original tracks and a hellfire remix of Party In My Head anthem 'Kill Everyone' by the one and only Deathmachine.

Somniac One's intense atmospheres and sledgehammer kicks get a euphoric lick on 'The Grand Awokening', a tribute to the millennium hardcore sound this industrial warrior was raised on. 'Hard Synths '92' meanwhile takes cues from even further back down the timeline, marrying early rave stabs and sentiment with Somniac One's thoroughly modern sound design and identifiable signature.

Technically skilled and hard as nails, Deathmachine then breaks the back of Somniac One's much loved 2018 banger 'Kill Everyone', delivering a crossbreed mutant remix that's gonna slay dance floors all over again.

2026 Repress

Samurai Music heralds a new seam of spacious, rhythmically curious exploration with the launch of the Saibai sub label, opened in mesmerising fashion by Brendon Moeller.

The overarching premise of Saibai is to nurture a more delicate, meditative inversion of Samurai's physical, dense sound, leaning less on the dynamics of the dancefloor while holding true to the intricate drum play and dubby principles that bind the label's sound together.

In this open-eared, inquisitive environment, Moeller is the perfect fit as an artist with decades of diverse offerings across all kinds of dubwise manifestations. On SAIBAI1, the US-based, South Africa-born producer stretches out with a live-sounding drum palette and exquisitely rendered synth work loaded with detail, character and organic flourishes. It's a light-footed approach with plenty of air flowing through the mix, but there's considerable weight in every notch of the production, not least the imposing channels of sub bass coursing beneath the frequency range.

SAIBAI1 is a feast for the senses, wholly immediate and front-loaded with fascination, setting the perfect tone for Saibai as a platform for charming, immersive electronics that take a fresh diversion from the fundamental core of Samurai's sharply defined sonic focus.

High-definition world building collides with incisive physical urgency around 170 BPM as Pianeti Sintetici makes his first appearance on Samurai Music. Davide Perrone's vivid production style found a more downtempo outlet on last year's release for Samurai sub label Saibai, but he pivots naturally towards the weightier presence of the Exoverse with a richly rendered suite of sonic systems teeming with life and pockmarked with mystery. The spacious drums that lead on 'Agilus' have an acoustic, in-the-room quality that instantly grounds the track before the myriad layers of synthesis start spiralling skywards, pitting twinkling pads against rapid, undulating acid wielded with assured control. By way of contrast 'Mimoide' burrows downwards, using needlepoint marks to puncture the brooding beds of sound looming in the middle distance. At the same time, Perrone weaves lithe, rubbery shapes across the foreground of the mix for a three-dimensional expression you can almost reach out and touch. Opening up a B side tipped towards a mellower pace, 'Living Plasma' leans into a 4/4 meditation as a vessel for another distinctive tapestry of modulating sound design from Perrone's seemingly infinite sonic resources. 'Exoverse' edges towards a more melodic standpoint with its teased flutters of arpeggio that sneak in and out of the mix and a harmonic dimension to the atmospheric layers that shape out the size of the track. Across all four pieces, the sheer detail at play in the Pianeti Sintetici universe is mind-boggling. By rights it should be a busy, stress-inducing experience, but Perrone's gift lies in the ability to take a macro view on these incredibly complex creations, zooming out by boiling the parts down into a symbiotic whole that feels patient and considered. The reward for the listener comes from taking the time to zoom in and marvel at every micro detail writhing across the surface.

KNEECAP return to bend genre, language, and rules. The most talked about artists in the world are turning the page. A new chapter, new sounds, new manifestos.
A blistering album that revels in darkness while bursting through the void with illuminated revery. This is FENIAN.

Produced by Dan Carey (Fontaines D.C., Kae Tempest, Wet Leg), FENIAN upends expectations with an expansive sonic palate, traversing acid house, trip-hop, dubstep, and more - Masters of rave and rap theatre, FENIAN represents Kneecap’s most sophisticated exploration of language and sounds.

More darkness. More confrontation. More craic. More energy. More solidarity. More absolute bangers. And more fuel for the unrelenting engine that powers this unstoppable force. For their remarkable second album, Kneecap have come out fighting.

Throughout, the sirens and alarms ring, and the chorus’s blast. Revolutionary and rebellious, confrontational and impossibly catchy, inescapably intelligent and brilliantly rendered, FENIAN doesn’t just represent the next phase in Kneecap’s trajectory but stands as a remarkable record that thrills as much as it surprises. The mayhem of their breakout year is a memory now. But Kneecap are neither dwelling on that nor merely persevering through it. In FENIAN they excel, reaching a new peak that is undeniable in its mastery.

Pressure makes diamonds, and FENIAN glistens with Kneecap’s uncut gems.

2026 Repress

Akusmi is the project moniker of French-born, London based composer, multi-instrumentalist and producer Pascal Bideau, who signs to the new Tonal Union imprint for the release of his album 'Fleeting Future.' With its hallucinatory, genre-defying blend of minimalism, cosmic jazz and Fourth World influences, and in its quest for optimism in the face of unknown and limitless possibility. 'Fleeting Future' stands apart as an inventive and inspirational debut.

The creation of the album's richly colourful and multi-layered sound world was originally inspired by Bideau's journey to Indonesia, where he immersed himself in traditional Gamelan and gong music. Many of the themes, motifs and melodies on 'Fleeting Future' seed from the 'Slendro' scale, one of the essential tuning systems used in Gamelan. However it is not musical scales, but scales as in the size or extent of things that most fascinates Bideau, specifically he explains; "the compelling way things dramatically change when you shift from any given scale to another."

The album connects directly to nature and the wider world in its evocation of perceptive shifts and transitions from microscopic to macro scale, as evidenced by the opening title track 'Fleeting Future', on which a simple dotted saxophone line morphs and billows into synths, brass and strings, indicating the musical voyage that lies ahead. Like the start of a journey or adventure it is full of anticipation, its arborescent growth conveying the optimism of the unknown and of limitless possibility. The album centrepiece 'Neo Tokyo' is a vibrating, ebullient mass of colliding elements which feels like zooming in to the electron level, as it teeters on the edge of chaos. The title is a reference to Katsuhiro Otomo's Akira, a dizzying work of art set in a sprawling futuristic metropolis.

'Yurikamome', meanwhile, is an imaginary soundtrack inspired by Bideau's yearning to visit Japan which he fuels by watching Youtube videos of drives and rides through Japanese landscapes and cities. "It's amazing" he adds, "that we have the ability to access almost anywhere in the world and see what it's like, that people document it and upload it. It's never going to be any replacement for the real thing, but with places that really touch you, it works." The track is named after a Japanese monorail train line which rides from Shinbashi to Toyosu, a last journey that feels like a new beginning.


'Fleeting Future' was composed and recorded by Bideau between 2017 and 2019 in his North London studio and features additional contributions recorded in Berlin by Florian Juncker (trombone), Ruth Velten (saxophone) and regular collaborator Daniel Brandt of Brandt Brauer Frick (drums / electronic percussion). Having been living through uncertain times, one thing that keeps spiralling into the unknown is the future, about which Bideau leaves us with a final thought:

"The future is fascinating: It is constantly readjusting to new events. I feel we left a linear approach to the future to enter an arborescent one where all the data and information we have about what could happen is exponentially ever-growing. Following a branch might allow you to glimpse into what it may become, but the evolution of the whole picture might very well render the prediction totally obsolete, and even meaningless. In that sense, there is not one future but innumerable ones all cancelling each other. That's what makes it fleeting."

Chris Liebing's first full solo techno LP, 'Evolver' is released on 27th March 2026, via his own CLR imprint. The German techno don's LP features a host of collaborators across music, images, and artwork. Luke Slater, Charlotte De Witte, Speedy J, The Advent, Terence Fixmer, Pascal Gabriel, Daniel Miller contribute to the music, while long-time collaborators Studio Bergfors deliver design, and legendary photographer Anton Corbijn shot Liebing for the project.

The Evolver LP is the sum total of Chris Liebing's three decades at the beating heart of techno. It's the record only someone whose first break as a techno DJ was playing five hours at Sven Väth's infamous Omen in Frankfurt - and who has ridden out every twist and turn of life and subcultures since, while remaining rooted in the true school, dark, sweaty techno sweat pits of the world - could have made. It's the result of deep introspection, but it's about utter immediacy. It's the sound of someone previously driven along by compulsion and happenstance at last finding the confidence to be utterly intentional about their practice, allowing them to take the most classic, familiar, proven elements from the past and render them completely new.

Evolver is also Liebing's first completely solo album. There are collaborations, yes: with old friends from the OG techno generation, Luke Slater, Speedy J, and The Advent, all on uncompromising form, and with new generation figurehead Charlotte De Witte, who provides a thrilling narration of total surrender to the moment on acid clarion call "Symphonie des Seins". But unlike all Liebing's albums to date, there's no co-pilot. Every structure, every mixdown, every choice serves his singular vision of how his untold immersion in the surging currents of the world's greatest clubs should sound. The elements are all those forged in the white heat of Omen and Tresor in the mid 90s - brutal repetition, titanium kick drums, industrial atmospherics, but also dark rave euphoria, ever present surging acid lines just on the cusp of trance, and just enough human voices to remind you of bodies on the dance floor - but rendered with all the extraordinary accumulated skill and technological developments since then.

It's Chris's vision entirely, his musings on sound, technology, and life birthing tracks like "Roy Batty." Inspired by thoughts of AI becoming sentient and hungering for more life like Rutger Hauer's titular Blade Runner character, it was one of the first tracks to emerge and a foundation stone for the album. And in pursuit of that vision, it's built like a "proper album". The anticipation and menace of intro "Unfold" tip over into the glowing hot high drama psychedelia of "Symphonie…" then the breathless headlong rush of The Advent collab and on through an unfolding narrative that goes deep, goes dark, opens out into grand vistas, takes strange turns before finally landing on the alien landscape of… well… "Endtrack".

Not everything is pummelling on Evolver - the dazzling title track feels like you've been welcomed into the courtly dance of a higher dimension civilisation, and the audacious Speedy J collab "Shaping Frequencies" is a beatless flow that tests the boundaries between signal and noise. But for all its complexity, conceptualism, and stylistic branching out, every last part unmistakably powered by that dark techno-cavern energy above all else. All of it positively radiates the qualities of Liebing's greatest work and sets to date - but somehow even more so than before. Whether you're listening for aesthetic inspiration, cerebral stimulation or just that raw physical power, this album will sweep you up into its momentum and won't let go of you until it's done.

Somewhere between revelation and delusion, Euphoria Bound maps a familiar trajectory: the irresistible pull towards dissolution, the gradual erasure of memory, the self rendered irretrievable. It moves between states of consciousness where such distinctions of enlightenment or self-deception are erased.

Across ten tracks, the album constructs a spectrum of sound that is both ambitious and Uncompromising. The approach here is more direct than recent releases, with textures that accumulate and disintegrate with renewed urgency.

the debut solo album by henrik raabe, guitarist of the german trio wareika, who rose to prominence in the 2000s with their minimal deep house sound. departing from the cool, jazzy deep house he was known for, raabe delivers a uniquely crafted downtempo album that feels like a seamless blend of jazz, afro, dub, new age, and postmodern influences. it evokes the spirit of an imagined encounter between the durutti column and dennis bovell, with virginia astley joining in—reminiscent of the uk sound of the 1980s—yet rendered more minimal and refined, in a distinctly german way. with each listen, the album draws you deeper in. it is poised to become a defining release for mule musiq in 2026

Leave it to Joe Claussell to tap into our current collective artificial intelligence anxiety and render the racket divine. Alan Parson’s 1977 I Robot—the LP from which these two new edits were culled—was a harbinger for all the technological sheen and humanistic distress that was to come. Drawing from heady science fiction and even headier musicality and studio sophistication, ’The Voice’ evoked Jeremy Bentham-like omniscient surveillance, while the original ‘I Wouldn’t Want To Be Like You’ explores the ambivalent rift in perspective between the two poles of flesh and metal. For Claussell, the dichotomy leaves more unanswered questions and artistic possibilities, for the truth is always tangled and ripe for potential. Our bodies are propelled by the same electrons which accumulate in capacitors; our hearts, as Milford Graves was so enthralled, likewise transmit the same electric impulses which not only sustain our bodies but soundtrack our eternal, internal rhythm. These edits, with their strings, synthesizers and distortion-ravaged guitars, are protracted to dynamic sublimity, and seem aware of this seemingly opposing dynamic. Claussell, himself a lifelong proponent and interrogator of man’s relationship with mechanized rhythm and sound, leaves our earthly toil and unease behind for something greater, something yet unnamed, shared between us all at our finest. It's almost a feeling you can touch in the air…

Polymania is a collaboration between Earl Grey and Aroma Nice, both of whom hail from the North West of the UK and are known for their genre-pushing productions in and around the overlapping modern Drum & Bass, Jungle and Drumfunk spheres. This record is a euphoric ravey jungle affair with strong acidic inflections, extrovert and dancefloor-focussed, where effortlessly slick percussive flair shines and rolling acid lines squirt out through the seams - the result of two long-time friends with heaps of production experience having a lot of fun.

A-side opener 'Farce of Nature' sets the tone with high energy stabs and a big grooving bassline, rooted in 90s jungle techno but rendered in full high definition, while 'Happy Slaps' continues the theme with crisp drums dancing over an undulating resonant acid line. 'Tank Ammo' deftly ramps up the euphoria with a spiralling melody rising towards a lethal switch-up midway, using filtered choppage to burst the tension with extreme precision. Bouncy acid breaks bubbler 'Give U Up' closes the EP slowing the tempo a touch and dialling up the funk - a refreshing palate cleanser laced with rich braindance melodies and an infectious vocal hook.

Delsin invites you to submerge into the prismatic electronica of Xenia Reaper. Across nine tracks of exquisitely rendered sonics, the shadowy producer engages in the time-honoured craft of introspective sound manipulation, folding gaseous pads into dissected breaks and running heavyweight machine pulses through achingly beautiful synthesis. The sound is sharply realised, modernist music that revels in the finegrain detail afforded by technology, but never at the expense of warmth and charm. It's nuanced electronica for deep listening, but it also hits on an instinctive, physical level.

Ode To Native Tongues” attempts to capture the feeling of coming of age between the years of 1989 -1993 (and beyond) while listening and witnessing the legendary Native Tongues crew releasing timeless classic albums and singles. Told through the experience of seeing the early episodes of “Yo! MTV Raps”, a friend sharing De La Soul’s first album, sharing that album with my cousin who in exchange shared Queen Latifah’s music or finding out about “Bonita Applebum” by Tribe at my high school’s homecoming dance. Evoking nostalgia as well as tell a story of how this music served as the soundtrack woven into the fabric of my youth, my coming of age, was the aim.

Everything’s For Sale” was inspired partly by a story of an elderly couple who went brokhaving to pay for their medicine.“Everything’s For Sale” speaks to how the value of money permeates all facets of this modern life, and as such it seemed only natural for it to reach into my creative world. This time however I wanted to make a song that cross examined how this super ficiality has affected music culture, let alone how it has rendered some in our society invisible -- a clear sign of a society void of compassion. The Platurn beat with a moving guitar riff pushed this song further, providing me the cover of a funky beat to dive into a topic that might not normally move an audience. Part cheat code for slipping in a conscious message to the audience without raising the alarm of the listener who may not be expecting anything more than entertainment.

The object appears at close range, triggering neuro-pop circuits that activate deep within a network of dubwise rhythmic traces. their glow begins to pool between the gaps in the wires as we zoom, in four jumps, from a the span of a familiar room to the diameter of a paranoid microscopic twitch. Externalism all the way down. two longtime collaborators re-render: loveshadow’s anya prisk again lends her voice, wrapping a heavy halfstepping throb in her signature panorama of sheer and lace. sean conrad, west coast stargazer and steward of the inner islands label, paints wistful figures with his ewi. moving closer, the arrangements reappear as hollowed-out echoes, shedding their semantic forms as their edges leave view. closer still, the surface becomes a total matrix of vision comprised of countless flickering bits.

»White Noise« is a cooperation project between raster-media and the Max Planck Institute for Empirical Aesthetics. Artistic sound projects generated in the context of the scientific research institute will appear at irregular intervals. The themes and questions of empirical aesthetics research are taken up, questioned or challenged in very different ways. »White Noise« is conceived as an audio archive of the MPIEA artists in residence which records the artistic works on vinyl and documents the respective concepts and working methods in text form.

Victioria Keddie’s »Pshal P’shaw« (white noise #002) is a multimedia exploration delving into phonetic expression’s auditory and rhythmic nuances of phonetic expressions through an amalgamation of text, sound, video, data, and customized learning software. Drawing inspiration from the painter and architectural theorist Hermann Finsterlin who made speculative architectural renderings, the project originated during a residency at the Max Planck Institute of Empirical Aesthetics in Frankfurt in 2023.

The project’s engagement with the sonic landscape of the eight diphthongs in US English, documented through recorded sessions at EEG labs with participants of diverse international backgrounds, is not just a technical analyses. The applied script for the recording session, infused with a contemporary Western US dialect, ventures beyond, exploring the primal essence of phonetic expression and its impact on the oral landscape of mouth, throat, and tongue.

This work focuses on the spoken aspect of language: the art of oration, conversation, and mimicry. It reflects the beauty of our perpetual change, speaking directly to our humanity and the raw, tender moments of existence. It embraces the awkward, beautiful and vulnerable essence of our shared human experience.

Victoria Keddie is a multidisciplinary artist delving into sound, video, installation, and performance. Her work uncovers hidden narratives within ordinary artifacts and spaces, emphasizing their role in shaping our collective story. The examination of acoustic phenomena and language is a recurring theme in her artistic work. Keddie’s current projects navigate the acoustic complexity of language and dialects.

For over a decade, Keddie was co-director of E.S.P. TV, exploring the televisual medium for performance and sound. Keddie has performed and exhibited internationally. Recent fellowships include the NYSCA/NYFA for Music/Sound (2022), the Max Planck Institute for Empirical Aesthetics (2023), and the Bemis Center for Contemporary Art, Sound Art and Experimental Music Fellowship (2024).

»White Noise«, 40 p. magazine English/German, vinyl LP, cardboard box

Ohio'Ohio's James A Donadio returns to Diagonal via his StabUdown Productions moniker, delivering the hyper spiritual "Tinge of Ascension" 9 track LP. This album is about the beauty of building something new by surrendering everything once learned. It's the culmination of 12 months working with a reappraised creative ethos. Throughout the process, Jimmy's interest in Krishna Consciousness & Dharma Yoga was deepening. Both went on to become deeply infused in this music. All tracks are ethereal in nature. Tempos are varied and rendered irrelevant. Jimmy's masterful use of sampling is on display as ever but the samples do not overburden. Tracks vary in energy but a bracing spirituality unites them all. Bráulio Amado (who has recently worked with Frank Ocean and Andre 3000) and Guy Featherstone (Diagonal's own aesthete force of nature) unite once again to deliver sleeve art which perfectly renders the music's preoccupation with the search for inner peace and purpose.