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Echolocation is the astonishing debut album from Mendoza Hoff Revels,
an electric & formidable new unit led by Ava Mendoza (electric guitar,
compositions) &Devin Hoff (electric bass, compositions) and featuring
James Brandon Lewis(tenor sax) & Ches Smith (drums)
A super-group of our time, all profound creative artists in their own right, rocking
mightily together, in their prime. 21st Century progressive rock played by punk
rockers with serious improv skills & jazz feel. And non-stop wicked catchy tunes,
riffs & grooves.
Strong sonic references are The Stooges' Funhouse, rendered by a band readily
adept at rapidly swinging rhythmic & harmonic shifts, (plus tenor sax on every
track!) and also Minutemen, both their whole body of music & their fundamental
egalitarian punk ethos.

This third release from Rubi Records sees Ashley Tindall—aka Skeptical—stepping out of his usual drum and bass territory and slowing things down with three seriously deep dub-infused bass tracks in the 140-150bpm realm. While not the first time Skeptical has dipped his toes in such waters, these are easily among the finest, most musically mature examples to date. For those drum & bass fans out there unsure about Skeptical branching out into other genres, this EP shows that an open mind and listening without prejudice will reward your ears.

First up is the utterly dub-soaked 75/150bpm track 'Tell Me'. This solid stoner groove takes clear elements of Skeptical's more dub-orientated D&B and adds mesmeric pads and soulful vocal hooks, making it one of the deepest head-nodders in his overall catalogue. This is more a refined track for the 'listener' than for the dance floor, and while you can still easily throw some shapes to it, it's great to just immerse yourself in as a purely audio experience.

Next is the 140bpm 'Tapestry', which is somewhat the darker twin of 'Tell Me'. Again, we have a slow dub-infused head-nodder, but this time more menacing in tone thanks to the finely-judged use of some moody sound modules that Skeptical has tweaked and twisted in his inimitable fashion. This one's the audio equivalent of a restless mind in the depth of night.

The final offering is another 140bpm track – the unsettling beast 'Atomic v1'. It begins with a slow-burn build up of an off-kilter metronomic beat, subtly growling bass and haunting strings. This, in turn, gives way to a distorted rendering of Oppenheimer's famous use of 'Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds' from the Bhagavad Gita, before becoming a sinister slow-motion dubstep rumbler. With its dragging beat and the purposefully off-point main sonic hook running over the top, this is a disorientating and unsettling weapon for the discerning DJ.

This EP continues the fresh direction of Rubi Records, showcasing exceptional, forward-thinking music without borders.

Support: Ben UFO, Joy Orbison, Gilles Pererson, dBridge, Break, DLR, Doc Scott, Mefjus, Kasra, Kings of the Rollers, Alix Perez, Jubei, Dub Phizix, Flight, Tasha, Loxy, Randall, Lens.

Radio Support: BBC Radio 6 Music, Rinse FM, Kool FM

Swedish singer and composer Elin Piel returns to Mystery Circles after making a debut appearance on the Las Vegas-based ambient label back in 2020. Piel's sound deals in microscopic layers of textural detail slowly shifting around delicately embellished melodies - 'Tunnlar' is a perfect opening statement in this sense as glassy synth phrases pass through prismatic DSP and faint flickering interference skips around in the background. If you enjoy the work of artists like Emily A. Sprague and The Humble Bee you'll certainly find much to savour on this beautifully rendered album.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

“Praying to god whether or not I believe there is one” - PH

Petra Hermanova and Unguarded announce In Death’s Eyes (UGD-009), the debut solo LP under the artist’s own name. This LP features nine tracks utilizing folk and sacred musical technique and instrumentation which drift between song and heavy distorted drones. In a disciplined display of beauty, pain, and astute musicianship, Hermanova brings forth a notable accomplishment of an album. In Death’s Eyes confronts death from start to finish with a rare fervor that leaves one feeling it was utterly necessary for Hermanova to produce - to survive. The transcendent impulse, or the influence of religious music, bears heavily on Hermanova’s compositions in her choir arrangements, but is most apparent in her use of pipe organ, opening the record on Black Glass. Having written organ parts for a significant portion of the record, she sought out the renowned organist Denny Wilke to record with her in the Merseburg Cathedral. Captivated by Wilke's profound skill as a player and knowledge of the Ladegast organ, Hermanova invited him to collaborate on Two Deaths where he delivers an impressive improvisation. While religious music offers spiritual solace from grief, folk speaks to the human and earthly as told by the individual, be they songs of suffering or joy, sin or salvation. To Hermanova, the clean promise of liturgical music is not enough to alleviate the blunt pain of grief. Contrasting the spiritual is the voice of the individual sufferer - the folk musician. For Hermanova, the autoharp embodies this contrast. The autoharp, a familiar sound in Appalachian folk music since its mass production in the late 1800’s, is an affordable instrument designed for the unskilled player. It is the antithesis of the organ which is costly, gargantuan, reserved for skilled players, and quite literally a part of the church. Through In Death’s Eyes the sounds of transcendence blend with the worldly, the tension between them poignantly expressing Hermanova’s struggle for spiritual resolution against the reality of death and loss. Like Hermanova’s lyrics, the artwork, conceptualized by Enes Güç and Evelyn Bencicova, is riddled with symbolism and allusion. We find Hermanova on the cover, digitally rendered. Reclining like an anatomical Venus, her vital organs are exposed, suggesting she is denied a transcendent death and is instead immaculately human. Bearing a sickle, her legs are metallic like armor, both symbols of protection. We see here in this image, as we hear in the nine tracks of IDE, the metaphoric state of someone ravaged by loss, choosing to tear herself open in an attempt to heal. - Reece Cox Petra Hermanova is a musician and visual artist based in Berlin. In 2018, Hermanova began working with the autoharp, which has since become the central pillar of her musical practice. Drawing inspiration from folk, medieval drone, and contemporary textural expressions, as well as Appalachian autoharp music, she creates emotionally driven arrangements accompanied by vocals. In her lyrics, she speaks to the fragility and tenderness of the human condition, religious conceptions of death, and introspective landscapes through narrative and symbolism. Hermanova debuted live at the Berliner Festspiele event The Sun Machine is Coming Down, performed at Trauma Bar und Kino accompanied with her choir, and recently took part in Sorour Darabi’s durational performance From the Throat to the Dawn. Her debut solo album, In Death’s Eyes, is set for release in 2023 on the art platform and label Unguarded. The album, where she wrote for the autoharp, pipe organ, solo voice and choir, features the acclaimed organist Denny Wilke playing the 19th century Ladegast organ of the Merseburg Cathedral. She has toured internationally with previous projects, including extensive sound and visual collaborations with Jon Eirik Boska (Hydropsyche) as well as with her award-winning band Fiordmoss. She was recently announced as a SHAPE+ platform artist.

On his latest album as The Drums, New York-based indie pop artist Jonny
Pierce plunges into the work of healing from childhood trauma and the
long shadow it casts over adulthood
The sparkling, eponymous Jonny unfurls a love letter to a galaxy of younger
selves, all hungry to be nourished, all rejoicing now that they finally get to belong.
Playful, heartbreaking, raucous, and serene all in turn, Jonny embraces the mess
of life in all its facets. It renders the magic that happens when you fall in love with
yourself down to the marrow.
Soaring to alt- pop prestige on arrival, The Drums have released studio albums
that deftly walk the line of aching melancholy and irresistible pop sensibilities,
presented through a kaleidoscope of pastel guitars, reverb, modular synthesizers
and drum machines. It's a sound that's wholly unique, and unmistakably The
Drums.
The Drums' music remains timeless, as evidenced by the recent explosion of their
RIAA Gold- certified song Money, which first appeared on their breakout
sophomore album Portamento, reaching #1 on the Alternative Global Shazam
Chart and #2 on the TikTok Global Hashtag Chart

On his latest album as The Drums, New York-based indie pop artist Jonny Pierce plunges into the work of healing from childhood trauma and the long shadow it casts over adulthood. The sparkling, eponymous Jonny unfurls a love letter to a galaxy of younger selves, all hungry to be nourished, all rejoicing now that they finally get to belong. Playful, heartbreaking, raucous, and serene all in turn, Jonny embraces the mess of life in all its facets. It renders the magic that happens when you fall in love with yourself down to the marrow. Soaring to alt-pop prestige on arrival, The Drums have released studio albums that deftly walk the line of aching melancholy and irresistible pop sensibilities, presented through a kaleidoscope of pastel guitars, reverb, modular synthesizers and drum machines. It"s a sound that"s wholly unique, and unmistakably The Drums. The Drums" music remains timeless, as evidenced by the recent explosion of their RIAA Gold-certified song Money, which first appeared on their breakout sophomore album Portamento, reaching #1 on the Alternative Global Shazam Chart and #2 on the TikTok Global Hashtag Chart.

2023 Repress

Artefakt dives deeper into their electronic universe with a worthy follow-up on their Days Bygone LP on the Delsin Interstellar series from early 2021. 'Brain Dripper' EP explores adventurous paths in dreamy electronics, experimenting with emotive melodies and floating chords rendered into immersive idm and ambient pieces. On the flip the pair fuses their trademark deep techno jams with stepping electro brain workouts.

Chicago"s Axis: Sova hit the beaches of southern California with Ty Segall to make a total hi-fi classic. Often feral and consistently catchy, Blinded By Oblivion is lit up with interlocking drum kit + drum machine, adventuresome guitar, bass, and harmonic vocals on every song. Icy lyrical perspectives, rendered in a sunshiny natural paradise, transmit the fun and fraud of human polarities with urgency and an occasional eye roll. Making for an undeniably good/bad time, streamlined and more reflexibly physical than previously known, Blinded By Oblivion begs the universe to bring back rock and roll radio. All the elements are there: compassion for our collective fallibility, rebuke on the tip of the tongue, all rolled tight with hook-laden, high-energy construction. "Bout halfway through Blinded By Oblivion, we hear Sova say, "I think my heart is made of metal." Yuuuup. But we"d argue there"s at least a ventricle or two made of post punk! And with vena cavae split between psych and southern boogie. And cardiac veins of glam, power pop, and punk Sometimes the heart is simply filled with sweet melody - so man, the beats of this metallic muscle are insane!

Chicago"s Axis: Sova hit the beaches of southern California with Ty Segall to make a total hi-fi classic. Often feral and consistently catchy, Blinded By Oblivion is lit up with interlocking drum kit + drum machine, adventuresome guitar, bass, and harmonic vocals on every song. Icy lyrical perspectives, rendered in a sunshiny natural paradise, transmit the fun and fraud of human polarities with urgency and an occasional eye roll. Making for an undeniably good/bad time, streamlined and more reflexibly physical than previously known, Blinded By Oblivion begs the universe to bring back rock and roll radio. All the elements are there: compassion for our collective fallibility, rebuke on the tip of the tongue, all rolled tight with hook-laden, high-energy construction. "Bout halfway through Blinded By Oblivion, we hear Sova say, "I think my heart is made of metal." Yuuuup. But we"d argue there"s at least a ventricle or two made of post punk! And with vena cavae split between psych and southern boogie. And cardiac veins of glam, power pop, and punk Sometimes the heart is simply filled with sweet melody - so man, the beats of this metallic muscle are insane!

"I imagine myself playing these songs in a small club that is slowly burning," says A. Savage of his second solo record, Several Songs about Fire. After more than a decade in New York, the co-frontman of Parquet Courts has left the city, marking his exit with a masterpiece of maturity and a worthy corollary to his first solo venture, 2017"s Thawing Dawn. "Fire is something you have to escape from. This album is a burning building, and these songs are things I"d leave behind to save myself." Produced by John Parish on a 1" 16-track in just ten days in Bristol and studded by the support of Cate Le Bon and Jack Cooper (Modern Nature, Ultimate Painting) as well as saxophonist Euan Hinshelwood (Cate Le Bon), drummer Dylan Hadley (Kamikaze Palm Tree, White Fence), and violinist Magdalena McLean (Caroline), Savage"s outsize gifts as a lyricist and observer - a quality Parish calls "an emotional openness guarded by a laconic wit" - shine. Worrying questions of wealth and poverty, self and other, Savage displays the poet"s gift of knowing when to narrate and when to vanish, leaving the listener to their own emotional privacy rather than instructing them how to feel. The end result is tantamount to psychic odyssey, with "Elvis in the Army" placing us in a subterranean venue where the livid, ratifying cymbal raises the room"s blood pressure and "Mountain Time", evoking an austere waltz playing in a desolate house, returning those listening to life. Influenced by Sybille Baier and Townes Van Zandt, Savage joins a canon of songwriters constantly dilating aperture and perspective. In rendering the signage of laundromats and threats of debt collectors as glistering and totemic as the scope of mountains, rivers, seas, and skies, Savage finds hopes and curses in equal measure.

"I imagine myself playing these songs in a small club that is slowly burning," says A. Savage of his second solo record, Several Songs about Fire. After more than a decade in New York, the co-frontman of Parquet Courts has left the city, marking his exit with a masterpiece of maturity and a worthy corollary to his first solo venture, 2017"s Thawing Dawn. "Fire is something you have to escape from. This album is a burning building, and these songs are things I"d leave behind to save myself." Produced by John Parish on a 1" 16-track in just ten days in Bristol and studded by the support of Cate Le Bon and Jack Cooper (Modern Nature, Ultimate Painting) as well as saxophonist Euan Hinshelwood (Cate Le Bon), drummer Dylan Hadley (Kamikaze Palm Tree, White Fence), and violinist Magdalena McLean (Caroline), Savage"s outsize gifts as a lyricist and observer - a quality Parish calls "an emotional openness guarded by a laconic wit" - shine. Worrying questions of wealth and poverty, self and other, Savage displays the poet"s gift of knowing when to narrate and when to vanish, leaving the listener to their own emotional privacy rather than instructing them how to feel. The end result is tantamount to psychic odyssey, with "Elvis in the Army" placing us in a subterranean venue where the livid, ratifying cymbal raises the room"s blood pressure and "Mountain Time", evoking an austere waltz playing in a desolate house, returning those listening to life. Influenced by Sybille Baier and Townes Van Zandt, Savage joins a canon of songwriters constantly dilating aperture and perspective. In rendering the signage of laundromats and threats of debt collectors as glistering and totemic as the scope of mountains, rivers, seas, and skies, Savage finds hopes and curses in equal measure.

a-Musik, the Cologne-based bastion of sonic exploration, unveils a new chapter in their quest for boundary-pushing sounds.

Timekeepers II, a split LP featuring recordings of two duos by Marcus Schmickler with Jaki Liebezeit and with Hayden Chisholm. Side A bears the imprint of Liebezeit's rhythmic flow fusing with Schmickler's digital Shepard Tone interpretation. A studio recording taken before a performance at Moers Festival in 2014. On side B, Schmickler's electronics converge with Chisholm's bagpipe drones. The piece was composed for their show at Art's Birthday at Berghain and a-Musik's 20th anniversary at Gebäude 9.

Tim Berresheim's artwork serves as a visual backdrop. Berresheim mostly works with computer rendered images, which have been created for a solo exhibition at JUBG in Cologne in 2022.

Dreams are made and displaced on Mark Fell & Rian Treanor’s oneiric electro-acoustic inception 'Last Exit', borne from long days in the family garden, and assembled into a mesmerising masterpiece of minimalist modal rhythm and atmospheric exploration, into rapt smallsound detailing in breathtaking form. It’s a bit like listening to Virginia Astley’s ‘From Gardens Where We Feel Secure’, with washes of Autechre seeping into the mix from outside.

‘Last Exit…’ originally appeared in a different form as a cassette release for our Documenting Sound series in 2021, and was edited this year by Mark and Rian for this new expanded and altered edition, mastered by Rashad Becker. It renders a painterly,psychedelic, and diaristic depiction of sublime atmospheric tension, occasionally ruptured by their typical, asymmetric rhythm impulses in a form that rudely transcends their respective aesthetics. Across four parts, they kern, juxtapose and diffract synthesised percussion and field recordings into polymetric arrangements riddled with timbral nuance of a highly unpredictable nature.

While patently inflected with nods to Indonesian gamelan, Ugandan folk, Indian Carnatic classical, Morton Feldman-esque minimalism, free jazz improvisation and a sort of rhythmic cubism that speaks to their mutual, voracious listening habits and tastes, the results are arguably without direct compare. Attentive listeners will recognise, however, that ‘Last Exit’ effortlessly transcends their respective styles, achieving a new high watermark of imaginary future-hyperfolk expressed in a sort of personalised but highly relatable meta-musical language.

Seriously, they’re working beyond known conventions here; opening to a sublime frisson of Feldman-esque keys, birdsong and distant car engines, and closing to a combo of just-intoned drone and wafts of distant ballroom music. The 80 minutes in between feel like returning to a dream, with flashes of FM strings dabbed to sloshing rhythms and domestic detritus, tilting into a nervously tentative tension ruptured with abstract dance dynamism and angular free jazz ballistics.

The rejigged recordings also reflect the fidelity of memory recall, expressing an altered perspective on their time spent in the multigenerational family’s Rotherham garden during spring/summer 2020, replete with their mum/grandmother on piano and overheard singing and in convo, but now fraught with a more melancholic, distempered quality that makes for a genuinely unforgettable listening experience. A long-form isolationist fantasy, consider it crucial listening if yr into Robert Ashley's 'Automatic Writing', Graham Lambkin, Autechre or Nuno Canavarro.

'Blind At The Age Of Four' ist der Einstieg in die anachronistische Welt von Jack Warnes GAUNT, mutig und gewagt, voller musikalischer und technologischer Experimente und visueller Kunst, und folgt auf die Frühwerke ETB I&II und 'Raw Cartoon' (auf Leon Vynehalls Fabric-Sampler). Das Debüt des am Royal College Of Art tätigen Designers und bildenden Künstlers besteht aus sich ständig verändernden Schleifen experimenteller Elektronik, begleitet von surrealen Bildern, die Warne mit analoger und digitaler Technologie, Augmented Reality, 3D-Rendering, Zeichnung und digitalen Maltechniken erschuf. Das gesamte Artwork enthält Augmented-Reality-QR-Code-ausgelöste Bilder.

Topaz Jones is a rapper, producer, and filmmaker from Montclair, NJ. Rooted in an independent ethic, Jones’ oeuvre moves to document and preserve the intimacy and intricacies of Black life. His music builds from a deep investment in community, concerning itself with all measures of time at once; his vantage effortlessly weaves through the (sur)real with generous detail and the sensitivity of one who’s lived many times before. It’s hip-hop for now, as informed by the depths of tradition - funk, soul, jazz - and a grand imagination for what’s to come. To experience Topaz Jones is to be greeted with unseen flavors of a collective familiar performer both decorated and versatile, Topaz Jones is a trailblazer across medium and genre. He shapeshifts with ease, rendering no stage or space unfit for his presence. He’s shared stages with Future, David Bryne, The Roots, and Moses Sumney, and been featured at Bonnaroo, Wireless Festival, and Rolling Loud. Jones’ music has amassed over 50 million streams, earning features in the likes of Vogue, Rolling Stone, The New York Times, Pitchfork, The FADER, and Okayplayer. In 2021, Jones released his critically- acclaimed second album Don’t Go Tellin’ Your Momma. The album’s accompanying short film, a collaboration with directorial duo rubberband., received a Short Film Jury Award at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival, and was acquired by The New York Times Op-Docs

The story of the invention of the term, 'deepfunk' is probably only known among fans and practitioners of this niche-genre. In short, it all started in the 1990s when DJs like Keb Darge, Mark 'Snowboy' Cotgrove and others began spinning obscure and feral Funk 45 RPM singles from local American bands, ostensibly generating another sub-category branch off of the mighty Northern Soul tree. The dance-club phenomenon inevitably spilled over to contemporary groups on the funk scene which immediately tried to record their music the way their idols did. The 'rare groove' and 'acid jazz' movements had run their course and there was a concerted effort to reinstate primitive idiomatic styles and techniques into the music, most notably by 90s funk collective The Poets of Rhythm. As more years passed by the number of bands steadily increased (although in tiny numbers, compared to the mainstream market). Almost every country had a representative with the majority of them coming from the United Kingdom. The deepfunk sound was still a niche, however a very few bands made it onto the mainstream charts, most notably Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings.

At the height of the retro-soul movement a questionable development took place. As more bands arrived on the scene, the production became more and more polished and pop-ish. Some of that squeaky-clean tidiness began to creep into the recordings, encouraged in part by the signature sounds of the digital recording technology available at that time. Some bands even tried to jump onto the possibility of promoting their music as 'deepfunk' although they were actually playing slick, funky pop music. This way some people who thought they were listening to raw, energetic funk actually felt quite ambushed when hit with real deepfunk. In fact, a certain percentage of funk music produced within the past 20 years does not deserve to be described as 'deepfunk' at all. Fortunately there were (and are) some pleasant exceptions which did not just imitate but actually rendered amazing funk music just like some of the finest funk combos of the 1960s and 70s.

One of those creative minds is without a doubt Joel Ricci aka Lucky Brown. Originally from Seattle, Washington, USA, he has enriched the deepfunk community since the mid-2000s with his stellar abilities. He is not only an amazing musician playing multiple instruments, but also a brilliant composer, arranger, and producer too. But for us here at Tramp he is much more, a close friend and remarkable human being. Whenever we were struggling, whether with the label or in private life, Joel and his musical work helped us to overcome everything and to keep going our path.

So here we are in 2023. The songs you are listening to right now are the complete Space Dream collection, split into two parts, representing the two living-room recording sessions from which his 2011 Tramp Records debut was compiled. Each fully remastered album contains unreleased material and comes with brand new, beautifully reimagined artwork by Ricci himself, housed in an authentic 1960s tip-on cover. A first class product from a first class musician for the discerning funk enthusiast.

The story of the invention of the term, 'deepfunk' is probably only known among fans and practitioners of this niche-genre. In short, it all started in the 1990s when DJs like Keb Darge, Mark 'Snowboy' Cotgrove and others began spinning obscure and feral Funk 45 RPM singles from local American bands, ostensibly generating another sub-category branch off of the mighty Northern Soul tree. The dance-club phenomenon inevitably spilled over to contemporary groups on the funk scene which immediately tried to record their music the way their idols did. The 'rare groove' and 'acid jazz' movements had run their course and there was a concerted effort to reinstate primitive idiomatic styles and techniques into the music, most notably by 90s funk collective The Poets of Rhythm. As more years passed by the number of bands steadily increased (although in tiny numbers, compared to the mainstream market). Almost every country had a representative with the majority of them coming from the United Kingdom. The deepfunk sound was still a niche, however a very few bands made it onto the mainstream charts, most notably Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings.

At the height of the retro-soul movement a questionable development took place. As more bands arrived on the scene, the production became more and more polished and pop-ish. Some of that squeaky-clean tidiness began to creep into the recordings, encouraged in part by the signature sounds of the digital recording technology available at that time. Some bands even tried to jump onto the possibility of promoting their music as 'deepfunk' although they were actually playing slick, funky pop music. This way some people who thought they were listening to raw, energetic funk actually felt quite ambushed when hit with real deepfunk. In fact, a certain percentage of funk music produced within the past 20 years does not deserve to be described as 'deepfunk' at all. Fortunately there were (and are) some pleasant exceptions which did not just imitate but actually rendered amazing funk music just like some of the finest funk combos of the 1960s and 70s.

One of those creative minds is without a doubt Joel Ricci aka Lucky Brown. Originally from Seattle, Washington, USA, he has enriched the deepfunk community since the mid-2000s with his stellar abilities. He is not only an amazing musician playing multiple instruments, but also a brilliant composer, arranger, and producer too. But for us here at Tramp he is much more, a close friend and remarkable human being. Whenever we were struggling, whether with the label or in private life, Joel and his musical work helped us to overcome everything and to keep going our path.

So here we are in 2023. The songs you are listening to right now are the complete Space Dream collection, split into two parts, representing the two living-room recording sessions from which his 2011 Tramp Records debut was compiled. Each fully remastered album contains unreleased material and comes with brand new, beautifully reimagined artwork by Ricci himself, housed in an authentic 1960s tip-on cover. A first class product from a first class musician for the discerning funk enthusiast.

On Rock Island, their second LP, Palm produces evidence of a distinct musical language, developed over time, in isolation, and out of necessity. On the island, melodies are struck on what might be shells or spines. Rhythms are scratched out, swept over, scratched again. Individual instruments, and sometimes entire sections, skip and stutter. There is the sense of a music box with wonky tension or a warped transmission in which all the noise is taken for signal.

Like other groups so acclaimed for their compulsive live show, Palm has been burdened by the constant comparison between their recorded material and their touring set. On Rock Island, they render this tired discussion moot, using the album form to present that which could never be completely live, reserving for performance that which could never be completely reproduced.

Despite appearing behind the instruments typical of rock music, Palm trades in sounds of their own making. On these songs, one of the guitars and the drum kit are used as MIDI triggers, producing an index that can be combed through later and replaced with new information. The percussion is sometimes augmented so as to suggest a multiplication of limbs. The strings are manipulated to choke, crack, and hum like other instruments, or other bodies, might.

Working again with engineer Matt Labozza, the band spent the better part of a month in a rented farmhouse in Upstate New York. With the benefits of time and space, Palm recorded the various elements piecemeal, only rarely playing together in groups larger than two or three. While some members tracked, others holed up in the next room, experimenting with quantization, beat replacement, and other methods borrowed from electronic music. Even accounting for the many labors that brought them to be, these materials seem produced by an organic logic. Their complex friction forms a habit of thought, scores a network of grooves on the floor of the mind.

This is music with dimensionality. Sonic objects are deployed, developed, and dissected in various states of mutation. The listener flits about between the field and the lab. The tone is warm in a way only the sun could make, the pace as forceful and as variable as a gale. Whether one locates Rock Island in a sea or in a refinished attic (as in Greg Burak's album cover), whether one escapes to there or is banished, its psychic environs are charted clearly enough. Only at this remove from the mainland can we sense the conditions necessary for such a strange species of sound.

Recorded in 1995 and 1996, mostly in John Fahey"s room at a Salem, Oregon boardinghouse, the performances on Proofs and Refutations prefigure the ornery turn of the page that marked Fahey"s final years, drawing another enigmatic rabbit from his seemingly bottomless musical hat. Cloaked in the language of dogma - what is he proving? refuting? - this is Fahey dancing a jig in the Duchampian gap, jester cap bells a-jingling. True believers? He"s got something for you: an uncompromising vision that you can sneer at ("guy can"t play anymore and refuses to concede!") or embrace as evidence of his genius ("the reinventor does it again!"). Skeptics? He"s there with you, too: sending up the fallacy of certitudes altogether. Institutions, systems, accepted wisdoms. Heroes. Alternative facts, indeed. Right out of the gate, Fahey re-materializes before us, somewhere between Oracle of Delphi and Clown Prince at Olympus. Mounting a thundering dialectic from on high, "All the Rains" resembles nothing else in his extensive discography - betraying roots in everything from Dada to Episcopal liturgical chant - and contains nary a plucked guitar note. You can"t fool him! When the lap steel of yore appears on "F for Fake," it serves more as soundbed for an extended sequence of vocal improvisations, running the gamut from wordless Bashoian caterwauling to free-form (but decidedly fake) Tuvan, even revealing a burnished falsetto in the process. Fahey takes on a different kind of provocation in the two acoustic guitar-based tracks closing Side 1 - "Morning" parts 1 and 2 - the first of 4 recordings in this session that have him wrestling with the ghost of Skip James, perhaps Fahey"s effort to wrench the "bitter, hateful old creep" (his words) back into the grave. Anchoring Side 2 is the two-part "Evening, Not Night," the second half of his extended cathexis on James (and the latter"s avowed castration complex - another story for another day, perhaps). Bit of a chill in the air - where"s the impish Fahey from earlier? Unmistakably working through some psychic wounds here, we might think: the unheimlich rendered in glistening viscera. Or is he playing with our notions of authenticity, of his reputation as troubadour of raw emotional states, a pilgrim of the ominous, the simmering unconscious? These cards are kept decidedly close to the vest. The opening and closing pieces again feature Fahey"s guitar as drone soundbed - employing distortion, oscillation, and an altogether absurd quotient of reverb to create texture and harmonics that are - if we wanna go there - not dissimilar to the sustained tonic clusters of Tibetan singing bowls, the hurdy gurdy, Hindustani classical music, or La Monte freaking Young. Portions of this material appeared on obscure late "90s vinyl in the 7" or double-78 rpm format, but as a "session" it has lain dormant more than a quarter century now. Taken together, we can now see these tracks as secret blueprints to latter-day Fahey provocations, several years prior to records like 1997"s City of Refuge and Womblife.

NEW 45 BY DEEP-FUNK PIONEER LUCKY BROWN RECORDED DURING THE NOW LEGENDARY SPACE DREAM SESSIONS!

In around 2001, Joel Ricci, the trumpet player/composer behind his former stage alias, Lucky Brown, went traveling on a worldwide "quest for funk". During that pilgrimage, he went to London England in time to attend Keb Darge's 'Legendary Deep Funk' 6-year anniversary at Madame Jojo's. While in the middle of the dancefloor, he was moved so significantly by this obscure brand of 'deep funk' Mr. Darge was unveiling, he became overcome by a mystical sense of 'coming home'. Additionally, he spent a week at Camden's Jazz Cafe to meet The Poets of Rhythm, The Breakestra, The Sugarman Three, DJ Snowboy, DJ James Trouble, and others. When Joel mentioned the nature of his quest to Neal Sugarman, he warmly invited him to come visit Brooklyn and kick it with members of Antibalas, Binky Griptite & The Mellomatics, and the Dap Kings. But before the trip back to the states, Joel spent some time in Paris playing his trumpet at a club called 'Cithea' where they would host weekly 'rare groove' jam sessions. During the jams, Parisian students of Tony Allen would overtake the stage with their instruments and their full African clothing, chant the word, 'Fela', and begin to play this intense free improvised funk and afrobeat. While traveling by train from Paris to the south of France to visit family, Joel began hearing this inspiring polyrhythm swirling in his inner ear and mixing with the "clack-clacka" of the train moving down the track. As soon as he arrived at his destination, he sat down at a piano and jotted down the polyrhythm, bass line and fundamental horn cluster on a piece of sheet music paper. The simple tune was finally rendered to tape ten years later with Lucky Brown's Crawdad Farmers aka The Funk Revolution on the Magik Carpet at drummer Olli Klomp's Lakeside log cabin in Stanwood, Washington. The tune became the title track to Lucky's first full-length on Tramp Records (Lucky Brown's Space Dream, TRLP-9011).

Space Dream is so titled in part to commemorate a soulfunk masquerade party Joel threw at a temporary all-ages Bellingham Washington music venue called 'The Pickford Dream Space'. This is Joel's stripped-down tape-only remix and re-edit which has never before appeared on 45RPM and commemorates the re-release, remaster and repackaging of upcoming Tramp LPs, "Space Dream" and "Don't Go Away", the fully realised 'director's cut' featuring Ricci's early group funk experiment: "The Funk Revolution."

Pierre Dutour's infamous Top Fiction is the epitome of a 5-tracker. Coming to light in 1979 on Tele Music, its collection of environmental themes are *all astounding*. We're talking all-time heavy hitters, here. They come recommended as tracks you'd choose to elegantly elevate deep selector sets or mixes.

Skip the irritating whistle-laced marching-band funk of "Captain Parade" and head straight to the glistening synths and proud horns of beatless ambient wonder "Mountain Echoes". Arguably worth the price of admission alone. It's that good. The sci-fi atmospherics of "Space Fiction" are definitely sampleable whilst the proud horns of "Mountain Trumpet" definitely contain blasts that could be of creative use. "Tambours Parade" is more marching-band funk, only this time the drums go hard and there's a lot to like about this one.

Truly, it's all about the B-Side. A real B-Side for the ages, in fairness. It opens with the gorgeous "Deer Forest". It's one of the most beautiful songs you'll ever hear. Like something off Brian Bennett's Voyage, it rides dreamily melodic synths, and comes on, as one fan claimed "like something Angelo Badalamenti would have co-written with Final Fantasy composer, ???? Nobuo Uematsu". It's jaw-dropping. Be instantly beguiled by the deep eerie nostalgia and pretty delicate piano of "Magic Lake I" and the whistling-synth-augmented "Magic Lake II". The almost-title-track "Pop Fiction" is another hidden gem, containing dreamy, glistening arpeggios that are just begging to be sampled with a heavy knocking beat behind it. The set closes with "Damnation Space", 2 minutes of spooky Musique concrète.

So, 5 absolutely incredible tracks and 2-3 good ones. An excellent ratio for a library album, I think we can all agree. Trust us when we say that the heavy hitters are just absolute gold, rendering this one an essential, buy-on-sight purchase. Go listen and discover for yourselves...

The audio for Top Fiction has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring this divisive release sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original space-age sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

Featuring contributions from Brittany Howard, Daniel Tashian (Kacey Musgraves, Demi Lovato), Julien Baker + more. Since moving to Nashville to start their music career in 2012, Becca Mancari has been lauded for their dextrous songwriting and prodigious guitar playing. Their sophomore album The Greatest Part, released in 2020, was an indie rock opus that garnered acclaim from The New York Times, NPR, and more. After its release, however, Mancari was despairing. An illness in their family, coupled with a realization that their alcohol dependency had become untenable, led Mancari to begin the hard work of taking ownership of their existence by mending broken relationships and investing in their mental health. "I didn't realize it then, but looking back, I was a passenger in my own life," Mancari says. The transformative period of self-reckoning was the catalyst that ultimately steered Mancari to write and produce their triumphant new album, Left Hand. After a disheartening studio session with an outside producer, Becca became convinced that they were capable of rendering their vision independently. Close friend and musical ally Juan Solorzano, who has played on all of Mancari's albums since the debut of Good Woman in 2017, joined them in the studio to co-produce the majority of the record. In addition, Daniel Tashian (Kacey Musgraves, Demi Lovato) co-wrote and co-produced the song "Don't Close Your Eyes," encouraging Mancari to track every instrument on the initial demos. As much as self-producing this album was an act of resilience and growth in one's own craft, Mancari brought trusted friends like Brittany Howard, who they play with in Bermuda Triangle, Julien Baker and Zac Farro into the process. Insecurities that had dogged Mancari since childhood couldn't weather the force of energy in that studio, where they executed decisions with newfound certainty. The title track, "Left Hand," is named for the Mancari family crest. After a lifetime spent feeling like they didn't belong, Mancari unlocked a perfect metaphor in the crest: "In many cultures children born with a dominant left hand were taught not to use that hand, and were told that using the right hand was `normal' and `correct.' Similarly, queer children are often times told that it's not `normal' for them to love who they love and that they need to `change.'" On Left Hand, Mancari offers the listener a collection of songs that should be played in moments when we are in need of reassurance and encouragement. No song exemplifies this better than the ebullient track "Over and Over," which is a reminder to friends that happiness doesn't need to be fleeting. "I wanted to write a queer pop song that has meat on its bones," they say. Inspired by one of many reckless and joyful hangs with dear friends in Nashville, the enlivening pop song makes a promise to them, and to the greater community Mancari embraces on this album. "There is something to the feeling/ Head hanging out of the window/ Being ok that we don't know," sung on the chorus over a beat replete with congas and shakers. What follows is a promise to anyone who ever feels like the greatest moments of their life are disappearing in the rearview: "We can have it like we used to, over and over and over and over again." For Fans of boygenius, Phoebe Bridgers, Julien Baker, Julia Jacklin, Caroline Rose, Miya Folick, Molly Burch, Widowspeak.

Cumgirl8 met in a sex chat 8000 years ago in another metaverse. Made up of Lida Fox (bass), Veronika Vilim (guitar), Chase Lombardo (drums) and Avishag Rodrigues (guitar), the band render the immersive and chaotic energy from cyberspace into our world, coming together to make a boundary-less sound that brilliantly stretches across the likes of ESG, Cocteau Twins, Suicide, CSS, B-52s, The Shangri-Las, Chris & Cosey, Madonna, and many more.

Miles Davis created just one studio album with his original sextet: Milestones. And he made every moment count. Pairing with Cannonball Adderley, John Coltrane, Red Garland, Paul Chambers, and Philly Joe Jones, Davis not only laid the groundwork for the modalism that immediately followed but tailored a genuine modern-jazz masterwork laden with performances among the most explosive of his distinguished career. Sandwiched between the more famous 'Round About Midnight and the epochal Kind of Blue, Milestones remains a seminal work of art.

Sourced from the original master tapes and pressed on dead-quiet SuperVinyl, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition 180g LP grants each musician their own space amid broad soundstages. Afforded the benefits of a nearly non-existent noise floor and supreme groove definition, this vinyl reissue doubles as a time machine back to the February-March 1958 recording sessions.

Colors, shapes, and dimensions appear in the manner that resembles what you'd glean from behind a studio control room's window. Davis' burnished trumpet is rendered in three-dimensional perspective and seemingly coaxes the band to play with unburdened zest. Coltrane's trademark saxophone teems with lifelike tonality and images with specificity; his solos work in tandem with and against the driving rhythms. Garland's swaggering piano lines? Visualize the keys as he hits full stride, the chords and fills slithering around skeletal frameworks.

Inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame and selected as a "Core Collection" record by the Penguin Guide to Jazz, Milestones is as famous for its title track – widely considered ground zero for modalism and bolstered by Jones' hallmark "Philly Lick" rim shot – as the players that produced it. The launching pad for many of Davis' improvisational flights, the album teases the explorations Coltrane would soon chase. Davis' own solo work broaches territories that far exceed what he had done in his bop-rooted past. Every song is a highlight.

Take the bravado "Dr. Jackle," featuring a hot-foot pace and bebop strains, or "Sid's Ahead," which continues the album's blues theme while juggling edgy harmonics and inside-out structures. On "Billy Boy," distinguished with an arco bass solo from Chambers, Garland gets a turn in the spotlight and channels the openness practised by one of his heroes, Ahmad Jamal. Even more instructive is the band's reading of Dizzy Gillespie's "Two Bass Hit." Three years removed from the version Davis and company recorded for the trumpeter's Columbia debut, this interpretation demonstrates the extent to which the group had jelled in a relatively short amount of time.



Then there's "Straight, No Chaser," the definitive rendition of Thelonious Monk's signature piece. Coltrane's marbled playing pulls at the tune's borders, Adderley takes liberty with solos, and Davis dances around his mates, at one point quoting "When the Saints Go Marching In" while demonstrating his knowledge of tradition and casting an eye towards the future.

About that future. Garland already had one foot out the door during the Milestones sessions to the extent Davis spells him on "Sid's Ahead." Jones would stick around for a bit longer but soon plot his exit. History proves Davis navigated the changes with visionary aplomb. Yet the chemistry, excitement, and beauty the sextet achieves on Milestones cannot be overstated. This reissue helps put the album in proper perspective – and presents the music the fidelity it deserves.

Repress!

The Self Split EP features Kouhei Matsunaga at his chimeric best for Diagonal, delivering two jazzy, freehand concrète collabs with Japanese sound artist and Eartaker noise maker, Masayuki Imianishi, plus two dance-offs with himself as NHK yx koyxen and Speedy K.Gelling Kouhei's many sonic handles for a full spectrum showcase of style and pattern, the set is riddled with a singular mischievous genius at every fold and warp. The Texture Foggy pieces render a more reflective, cosmic aspect of Kouhei's character. Working with Masayuki Imianishi, he terraforms paper, radio, field recordings and synths into vivid alien ecologies of shimmering electronics and spheric melody with a highly visual quality that perhaps betrays Kouhei's talents as an illustrator. For virulent examples of Kouhei at the rave, NHK yx koyxen and Speedy K's Step Move #01 is quite possibly the wonkiest peaktime juggernaut of the year, and the acid wormhole of Early Mellow Darkness sounds like the bald - as in bad - acid offspring of Luke Slater and Ed Rush. Once again Kouhei makes us go mad at the rave, but this time with something to come home and melt into as well.

As the void stares back at me, I am consumed by the waves of this new sonic transmission. ESP's Goblin Synth reigns supreme, guiding me into the darkest corners of my mind, as the Galaxian remix shatters my being into a thousand pieces. This release is a frenzied piece of IDM, braindance, and DnB, fueled by a chemical fury that leaves my mind in a state of pure ecstasy. The relentless pace and shifting soundscapes of the A-side are the perfect conduit for the raw power of the Galaxian remix, taking me beyond the limits of what I thought was possible.

On the B-side, I am treated to a liquid dnb homage that is no less relentless in its pursuit of sonic intensity. Here, the rhythms are more organic, more fluid, but no less potent in their ability. This is music that demands a total surrender of the self.

The insidious rhythms of ESP's Goblin Synth seize my consciousness like a viral agent, rendering my being porous and open to the twitching, glitching transmissions emanating from the depths of the machine. With each stuttering break and howling, modulated synth line, I am hurled headlong into a world of ravenous, cybernetic abandon - a blackened, dystopian horizon of shattered glass and flickering neon.

As my mind is hijacked by the rushing currents of amphetamine psychosis, I realize that this is no mere exercise in genre or form, but an all-out assault on the very fabric of reality itself. The sonic textures here are hyper-real, beyond the grasp of normal human perception - this is the sound of the post-human, the sound of the inhuman, the sound of a future that is rapidly bearing down upon me, whether I am ready or not.

And yet, amidst the chaos and decay, there is a kind of perverse beauty at work - a beauty that can only be glimpsed through the shattered glass of my own shattered subjectivity. With each burst of static and each crunching bassline, I am hurled deeper into a vortex of metallic, crystalline wonder, a realm of pure, unadulterated sound that is as terrifying as it is sublime.

Brutal Nature Redux is a continuation of Rhys Fulber’s “Brutal Nature” album and art concept, featuring remixes by carefully curated artists. Years of Denial’s take on “Rogue Minority” injects some emotion and humanity into the stark and aggressive original while preserving the driving bass riff and lifting it into the sound of a futuristic tribal gathering. Berlin’s Sarin is up next, leaning into the future EBM style he also shares with Fulber but amping up the intensity and apocalyptic dance floor elements of Central State Institute. Night Render is given a darker and more sinister sheen by up-and-coming Bulgarian producer, Evitceles. The nature elements of the original are replaced by a cinematic dystopia, akin to salvaging lost technology in a ruined city. Orphx add their rhythmic sophistication to “Stare at the Sun, tripping and refining the original down to its base elements while tuning Sara Taylor’s (Youth Code) screams across what appears to be several channels of short wave radio. Qual’s radical re-interpretation of “Pyrrhic Act” brings elements of Fulber’s past history in EBM right to the fore, creating a groove that’s both retro and very modern, slowing it down so the tension hangs heavier in the air. Lastly but certainly not least, Vanity Productions highlights the “nature” of “Fragility”, accentuating it with delicate clouds hanging in an air of contemplation; darkness and light coexisting in thick emotional textures. A fine way to close out this collection of cohesive individualism.

Repress!

Funkiwala Records presents the third in the series of "Lokkhi Terra meets"albums, with the London fusionistas creating another unique sound-clash, this time with ex-Fela Kuti keyboardist and legendary UK Afro-beat ambassador Dele Sosimi, and members of his critically acclaimed Afro-beat Orchestra.

This particular collaboration has been bubbling away for a few years now, teasing audience expectations with a handful of sold out shows each year in between both bands busy schedules.
Featuring the two pianos of Kishon Khan and Dele Sosimi – Cuban percussionists/vocalists Geraldo De Armas (Yoruba Andabo), Oreste Noda (Ariwo), Javier Camilo (Ibrahim Ferrer) - a horn section led by Justin Thurgur (Bellowhead) featuring Yelfris Valdes (Sierra Maestra) and Graeme Flowers (Kyle Eastwood) to name a few – this is an All-star cast.

Kishon Khan's Lokkhi Terra have over a number of years now been quietly establishing themselves as one of London's more unusual heavyweight outfits, described as "Stunning Headliners… A majestic multi-cultural blend of sounds… effortlessly builds bridges between rolling Indian raga rhythms, Afro-Cuban grooves, Acid Jazz/funk and free flowing improvisation" (Timeout London). Included amongst the band members are London's top Cuban musicians, adding their infectious rich musical history to the city's melting pot.
When the band wanted to explore Cuban links with another of their favourite traditions, Afrobeat, who better to bring in then one of the Afrobeat originators – maestro Dele Sosimi – "Sosimi creates some of the most bewitching grooves in modern African music" E Jazz News.
Bringing together two Yoruba speaking musics - with different accents, from different sides of the Atlantic - Havana meets Lagos in London – A Cuban-Afrobeat-Experience. CUBAFROBEAT.

All About Jazz 4star review

A younger version of London's Grand Union Orchestra, founded by world-jazz pioneer Tony Haynes in 1982, Lokkhi Terra was put together by keyboard player Kishon Khan in 2005. Both ensembles have made a specialism of jazz / South Asian fusion, with Lokkhi Terra also giving as much attention to music from Cuba, where Bangladeshi-born, London-based Khan lived for a while in the early 2000s.

Cubafrobeat, as the title foretells, is a blend of Cuban dance music and Nigerian / Yoruban Afrobeat—a fusion rendered seamless by the synergies existing between Afro-Cuban and Yoruban music, language and mythology. The album is Lokkhi Terra's third and partners the band with the keyboard player and vocalist Dele Sosimi .

A young-going-on-child-prodigy member of Fela Kuti's Egypt 80, Sosimi went on to become musical director of Femi Kuti's Positive Force, before relocating to London and setting up Dele Sosimi's Afrobeat Orchestra, the finest Afrobeat band outside Nigeria, bar none, now with a string of consistently engaging albums under its belt. Cubafrobeat features Sosimi as lead vocalist on all four tracks, and on Fender Rhodes on two of them. His singing plays a prominent role in the Afrobeat Orchestra, but, such is the whirlwind impact of the band in full instrumental flight, that Sosimi is often thought of first and foremost for his keyboard and arranging talents. That may change by the time 2018 is over. Cubafrobeat is the third album in as many months to feature Sosimi as guest vocalist, spotlighting the gravitas, air of mystery, intimacy and ferocity his voice can bring to an occasion.

The first of these albums was the genre-bending spiritual-jazz band Emanative's Earth (Jazzman). One of the stand-out tracks, "Ìyáàmi," features Sosimi making obeisance to the titular Mother Goddesses of the Yoruba spirit worlds. His raw and intense invocations carry the track for nine mesmerising minutes. Otherwordly is not the half of it. Next up was dub / reggae / jazz band Soothsayers' Tradition (Wah Wah 45s), which featured Sosimi as lead vocalist on the compelling "Sleepwalking (Black Man's Cry)." Earth and Tradition are both outstanding albums and have previously been reviewed here.

Cubafrobeat is a total stonking blinder, too. It is an effectively nuanced affair, opening with the fiery "Afro Sambroso" and closing with the relatively reflective "Rumbafro." Sosimi's vocals light up the music, as do the several solos from trumpeters Graeme Flowers and Yelfris Valdes Espinosa and trombonist Justin Thurgur (a member of both Lokkhi Terra and the Afrobeat Orchestra). Sosimi and Kishon Khan's intertwining Fender Rhodes solos on "Cubafro" are also a delight, as is the drum and percussion section throughout.

The sound of summer, for sure, Cubafrobeat has enough depth and variety to make it something for all seasons.

Songlines 4star review

Lokkhi Terra are one of London's most authentic groups. They are a Latin-flavoured collective whose keyboard player and bandleader Kishon Khan segues from percussive montunos to complex Bengali rhythms and back, with jazz chops sparking funky and outward-looking fusions. Their collaboration with Dele Sosimi, Britain's foremost Afrobeat ambassador, has been bubbling for a while; here four tracks at ten minutes see musical conversations that never lose their sense of flow. An extensive line-up of stellar players, including trumpeter Yelfris Valdés, conguero Oreste Noda and trombonist Justin Thurgur, highlights the genre-crossing potential of world traditions. Opener 'Afro Sambroso' showcases batá drums from Gerardo de Armas Sarria before the track links Cuban grooves with Afrobeat. 'Timbafro' crackles and sways via Khan's organ, Sosimi's vocals and Oscar Martinez's timbales. 'Cubafro' features dazzling interplay between Khan, Sosimi and Javier Camillo's Spanish-language vocals. 'Rumbafro' is all rumba choruses, Yoruba vocals and Afrobeat horns. Rooted in their sources, but with musical threads intertwining, separating and reconfiguring – with grooves at a premium – this is a fusion lover's dream

This excellent 1965 album from the always versatile Yusef Lateef runs the gamut musically, from the Coltrane influenced “Semi-Octo” to soulful reads of standards from Hammerstein/Kern, Fats Waller and Erik Satie, and a beautifully rendered original ‘Bamboo Flute Blues’.

This Verve By Request title is pressed on 180-gram vinyl at Third Man in Detroit.

»Blank Vault / White Stains« is the new solo album by Franz Joseph Kaputt (DRNTTCKS, Otomatik Muziek, Hager/Kaputt). Under his S.U.V. alias, he presents nine highly personal, improvised synthesizer miniatures, accompanied by heavily delayed drum machines and enveloped in clouds of feedback. The music unveils a background rooted in years of noise exercises and ventures into the territories of dark, psychedelic folk, while showcasing a fondness for delicate synthesizer sounds and repetitive song structures. Layers of sound and rhythms collide and arrange themselves to create an idiosyncratic ambient/kraut music that explores the borders of when intimacy becomes toxic. It also delves into how relationships involving kink strategies can be used in a way that don‘t render one powerless or hurt, but ultimately leading to empowerment.

Side A is kind of an utopian dark room, filled with peculiar beats, drones, and dreamy synth arpeggios. Pleasure and joy are subversive acts that challenge and upend stereotypical role models. The pieces revolve around the mutual and consensual exploration of individual boundaries and the transformative states that emerge within these encounters – a unique entity, a »Body Of The Mind« if you will, is formed between individuals. Side B then represents the counterpart. Acid synths, distortion cascades and looped pianos evoke the regression from this playful and subversive approach on to sheer brutality and perverse destruction.

Somewhere in the Lower-Franconian vineyards lies a hidden and mostly unknown canyon, a place that often returns to the thoughts and dreams of Läuten der Seele’s Christian Schoppik. Though a much rarer occurrence now as a consequence of environmental change, chance encounters upon the area in the past would sometimes reveal small ponds amongst the reeds, teeming with life and populated by colonies of newts and the now endangered yellow bellied toad. The transience of the water and the wildlife it hosts, dependent on season or climate, lends the area an almost fantastical, dream-like quality. Was it ever even there at all? A secret place that may or may not be present holds vast appeal to some enquiring minds… Ertrunken Im Seichtesten Gewässer, the third Läuten der Seele album in two years, is inspired directly by these experiences. Translating as ‘drowned in the shallowest stretch of water’, a title as pregnant with dread as it is wonder, the themes present speak both to personal memories and a wider understanding of place and time, and how we might interpret our own position within an ever-changing, sometimes disappearing world.

The record is presented as two long-form pieces divided into four separate movements, each titled so as to reflect this natural environment and its intersection with imagination, relying on processes of collage that draw from myriad indeterminable samples, field recordings and various recorded instruments. Those familiar with Schoppik’s work, both as Läuten der Seele and with Brannten Schnüre, will find present many of his signature tropes - the way deeply layered collages render abstracted visions of the past alive in the present - though what is always significant about his approach is not so much aesthetic as the wider concepts it attempts to express and emote. Indeed, emotional response is key to the Läuten der Seele sound, how overlapping notions of nostalgia, memory and identity calibrate experience and understanding of who we are and the world around us, whether it’s a world that’s gone or another imagined into being. If you observe the artwork closely enough, you may find a clue as to the canyon’s location, though such specifics are besides the point. The music itself infers a wider sense of the impermanence that characterises hidden worlds, wherever they might be or whoever they might belong to.

In August 2020, following some typical delays at the plant, Fourth Dimension Records released the limited edition 2LP (and now sold out) set of Kleistwahr's This World Is Not My Home and Over Your Heads Forever albums, originally released by the same label in 2014 and 2016 respectively. Packaged together in a single sleeve with printed inners reproducing all the artwork found on the original CDs, the 2LP was always designed to represent the first volume in a series of them. This next volume gathers everything on the next two albums, Down But Defiant Yet and Acceptance is Not Respect, both also initially released on CD in, respectively, 2017 and 2018, and presented in the exact same way. 2017's long sold out at source album, Down But Defiant Yet, collects four lengthy cuts which catch Gary Mundy (also known for Ramleh, Breathless and Broken Flag Records) furrowing his distinct and recognisable take on a kinda contemporary psychedelia with dystopian leanings. Each piece nods towards the fug generated by certain ‘krautrock’ groups whilst retaining threads of those uncompromising power-noise surges he built his reputation on, this is music guaranteed to take you to new spaces before forcing you to nervously look over your shoulder. 2018's Acceptance is Not Respect collects two lengthy pieces themselves broken down into seven parts often tempered to the point restraint assumes new, often disturbed (and disturbing) psychedelic or even filmic, properties, this music arrives like a spitting and foaming scream into the insanity of the void and the myriad challenges and questions it inexorably keeps hurling at us. Whereas Ramleh captures the sound of at least two people dealing as best they know how with the constantly rising rivers of shit around us, Kleistwahr is akin to one man having scaled a great height poking out of an infinite chasm and wondering why he bothered. This is uneasy listening sometimes renderedvirtually elegiac by dint of a prowess rarely found in such realms. Of this, Gary himself quite prophetically, in light of how events have shaped the world since said, “I was trying to make the music more spiritual sounding this time as the album is about belief. The first half is about personal and political belief and the second half about religious belief. I was wondering about whether in the 21st Century, you can seriously get anyone to completely change their beliefs and [am] asking is there anything you believe that you would be willing to die for, and the difference between the way that most beliefs have been accepted/tolerated and [are] supposedly respected in recent times in [the UK]. Now our society is starting to break down, it becomes clear that that acceptance tends not to actually be the same thing as respect at all.”

In the five years since Creep Show’s acclaimed Mr Dynamite album was released it’s fair to say that we’ve all been through a fair bit. Sitting here, in 2023, things don’t seem to be getting any better. There’s the cost of living crisis and political meltdowns; we're in deep water with global warming and to top it all there’s a war on our doorstep.

Back in 2018 everything seemed less complicated. Sure, there was stuff to get riled about, but we knew nothing about what was to come. Mr Dynamite was a fairground ride into the dark corners of a world that was on the brink of being blitzed in a blender. It was a record teetering on the edge. Five years down the line you’d expect the follow-up, Yawning Abyss, would double-down and bring the white-knuckled, teeth-gritted fury of the last five years to the boil. And yet….

A quick recap? No problem. Wrangler + John Grant = Creep Show. And Creep Show? “A band of musical misfits who have found a voice or two”, says Wrangler’s Ben “Benge” Edwards, whose Bond villain studio on the edge of a moorland is Creep Show Grand Central as well as home to an analogue synth arsenal that could sink ships.

Wrangler have known each other for a while. Tunng’s electronics wizard Phil Winter and Cabaret Voltaire’s trailblazing, pioneering frontman Stephen Mallinder go way back, while Phil and Benge crossed paths in the 21st century when they seemed to be increasingly in the same venues at the same times. Meanwhile, Mal had been living in Australia since the mid-90s and when, in 2007, he returned to the UK his old pal Phil suggested he meet Benge and the three of them immediately began working together.

Wrangler collectively bumped into Grant at their soundcheck for Sheffield’s Sensoria Festival in 2014 where they were playing with Carter Tutti. A friendship blossomed and when they were invited to perform together for Rough Trade’s 40th anniversary show at London’s Barbican in 2016, well, they jumped at the chance... and Creep Show was born.

Let’s talk about the new album... What is the ‘Yawning Abyss’? You might well ask. According to Mal, it’s “a cosmic event horizon that I can see from my attic window when stand on a chair”. Yeah. Thanks.

“On this album”, offers Benge, feet firmly on the floor, “Wrangler wrangled some vintage synths, mostly Roland, Moog, and the ‘Crystal Machine’ - then John Grant joined in the fun at Memetune Studios where lots of musical experiments were carried out. Then Mal and John ran off to Iceland with the master tapes and recorded a load of madcap vocals. Back at Memetune, me and Phil were left to try and make sense of it all. Which wasn’t hard because what they did in Iceland was totally magnificent.”

Which kind of brings us back to where we began. You’d imagine ‘Yawning Abyss’ would be blowing steam out of its furious ears. Mr Dynamite but kicking a wasps nest. Repeatedly. And yet…

Opener ‘The Bellows’ comes on like a modular ‘Radio Ga Ga’, the singalong ‘Moneyback’ (“You want your money back? / I didn’t think so”) sounds like Godley & Creme’s ‘Snack Attack’ meets Prince Charles And The City Beat Band (“Pennies, pounds, dollar bills, signed agreements, death wills”). ‘Yahtzee!’ is an unhinged electro breakdance party in four minutes and nine seconds.

Where Mr Dynamite was menace, a mélange of mangled voices, with Grant and Mallinder being heavily treated, pitched up or down, rendering their contributions largely indistinguishable, Yawning Abyss takes a more direct approach. You hesitate to say feelgood, but there’s a skip in the step here for sure.

The title track plays John Grant’s vocal straight. Completely. It’s good, so very good. Like ‘Axel F’ covered by Vangelis. The delicious shimmering synths of ‘Bungalow’ also plays those Grant pipes with a straight bat. ‘Matinee’ delves into darker, very funky territory. With Mal upfront it comes on like ‘The Crackdown’. Choice lyric: “You are starting to breakdown / And it’s so fun for me to see / You should have thought of that / You should have come prepared / You can see what’s happening and you look a little scared”.

So, you know, not all feelgood. But it does feel good. It’s probably best to draw your own conclusions... This is Creep Show after all.

Andrius Arutiunian’s debut album »Seven Common Ways of Disappearing« was first conceived as an installation for the Armenia Pavilion at the Venice Biennale in 2022. The Armenian/Lithuanian artist and composer uses hybrid forms of music, focusing on sonic vernaculars, hypnotic musical forms, and aural cosmologies. Arutiunian is known to work with installations, sound objects, and time-based collaborations with ensembles and performers. The piece on this record was written for two musicians, a retuned piano and analogue electronics, and it borrows an enneagram as its score—the world-ordering model introduced by the controversial Armenian-Greek mystic and composer G.I. Gurdjieff. The result is an album that is both aesthetically and spiritually intoxicating music of the spheres, at once reminiscent of the masterpieces of minimal music and improvised, if not stochastic music. G.I. Gurdjieff was one of the first thinkers and (quite possibly charlatans) to introduce a syncretic idea of Eastern philosophy into the West. His unique way of teaching was based on an esoteric blend of Middle Eastern, Buddhist, and Dervish philosophies, and oscillated between a genuine search for enlightenment and a complex form of trickery. Borrowing from Gurdjieff’s writing on the world ordering and musical tuning, Arutiunian used the enneagram to organise the musical and structural matter of the piece that was originally conceived as a live performance.»Seven Common Ways of Disappearing« is written for a grand piano—the epitome of Western composition and musical production—and follows a simple set of rules: the two musicians have to navigate the topography of the score, rendering the piece in a different configuration each time. In a sense, this gripping recording is thus only one of the potentially infinite versions of how it could be played, but also seems to take on different shapes and forms with each new listen. It documents a truly mystical composition that follows its own logic

Laura Poitras’ Oscar-nominated film »All the Beauty and the Bloodshed« is an epic, emotional and interconnected story about internationally renowned artist and activist Nan Goldin. Told through intimate interviews, photography, and footage, central to the story is her personal fight to hold the Sackler family accountable for the opioid crisis. The film cuts to the bone with its incandescent celebration of life and condemnation of those who threaten it. Art and activism are one and the same.

Helping to interweave Goldin’s past and present, multi-disciplinary duo Soundwalk Collective soundtrack her personal and political struggles to sublime effect. The contemporary sonic arts platform of founder and artist Stephan Crasneanscki and producer Simone Merli, the pair work with a rotating constellation of artists and musicians, developing site-and-context-specific sound projects through which to examine conceptual, literary, or artistic themes. And for all the beauty and the bloodshed on show here, the duo strike the balance just right; their compositions in collaboration with Zacharias Falkenberg and Johannes Malfatti producing a trance that oscillates between grace and madness.

Within the score, Crasneanscki draws connections with the life and work of German poet Friedrich Hölderlin, who was removed from society through confinement in institutions. In his last poems, written as fragments while he was plagued by mental illness, Hölderlin renders nature, in all its fragility and ephemerality. Similar themes merge in Laura's portrait of Goldin and serve as an inspiration for the composition of the choral songs and cantus within the soundtrack. Through the repetition of words and the layering of voices, the lyric scansion operates like a language possessed, echoing various styles from sacred music to modern minimalist techniques. The music is characterised by quivering strings and swells, de-tuning and lingering, shifting around the surreal, and creating a spectrum of musical experience. Exerts of Nan’s narration are featured in two of the tracks, her powerful narration offering a more direct approach to the storytelling.

In »All the Beauty and the Bloodshed,« Poitras shows protest is really Goldin’s great artwork: Her entire life had been leading to this moment of passionate expression, an inspired situationist gesture which fused the personal and the political. Art can change the world, which Poitras and Goldin tell us with powerful results. While there are multiple threads in this remarkable portrait which could have carried entire films, the soundtrack provides a sonic identity that helps keep track of proceedings. Utterly unique in their approach, Soundwalk Collective have delivered a gripping and thoughtful score, helping turn Goldin’s personal pain into culture-rattling impact.

Timo Kaukolampi, frontman for Finnish electronic rock group K-X-P and tireless sonic wanderer, is releasing his second solo album, this time on Optimo Music. Exquisitely rendered, shadowy, curiously claustrophobic and even occasionally paranoid, Inside The Sphere is an album wholly deserving of its name.

A sense of paranoia is one of the threads through this glittering, winking electronic maze. Kaukolampi says “I came up with this metaphysical concept of the “sphere”. When you are manipulated you are ‘Inside The Sphere’. It’s like this dome of ‘undue influence’ that you don’t know exists around you. It’s a bit like the inside of a cult.”

Indeed, it’s amazing the effects achieved with a few sparse electronic textures, the odd smattering of studio trickery, and two or three well-placed synthesizer parts. Though the result might sound ostensibly simplistic, Inside The Sphere is an album of reduction rather than addition. The rhythmic and textural scaffolding is based around what’s not there, rather than what is. Take ‘VCS3’. At first listen, it seems forged from a few synth lines and a simple percussion part – so far, so simple. But listen closer, enter the sphere, look behind the mask – notice the slightly detuned drones, the chattering percussive textures, that distant swell of bass, the way the central fugue shifts and mutates somehow statically, like a barber’s pole.

Might we be listening to an album within an album, a more complex song cycle hiding within the folds of an ambient electronic album? This ties in with another of Kaukolampi’s thematic frameworks – that of the mask. He references Oscar Wilde’s quotation that “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

Inside The Sphere is not a one-note album. For every moment where a clammy ambient space enters, a buttery analogue bassline is there to fill it. This clash seems to be the album’s engine room, its power supply.

Timo references devotional and choir music as an influence on this album. The paranoia and foreboding is tempered by these headier aspects. Kaukolampi mentions “empty and hollow spaces” in relation to several of the songs. Perhaps this is the very space behind the mask, where outward disguise merges with inner reality. Perhaps inside the sphere is not always such a bad place to be.

Ocean Abyss Colored Vinyl. Edition of 500 copies.

(Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality is the new album by Eluvium - the renowned moniker of prolific modern composer, Matthew Robert Cooper . Taking initial inspirations from T.S. Eliot 's The Waste Land and Richard Brautigan 's All Watched Over By Machines Of Loving Grace , (Whirring Marvels) inherently deals both with humankind's need for meaning, and the emergence of algorithms reflecting the feedback loops of humankind's interactions with machines themselves.

This complicated relationship that we have with technology, automations, and algorithms - and the influence they in turn have on shaping our image of the world - is the mechanized heart and soul of an album that almost instantly establishes itself as a peak in Eluvium 's inimitable catalog.

During the writing process for (Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality , Cooper began experiencing shoulder and arm pain that rendered his left arm increasingly debilitated. This inspired new compositional methods that blended varying degrees of electronic automations with traditional songwriting. Lyrical themes were built using algorithms to cull content from a notebook filled with years of scribbled thoughts, poems, considerations, conspiracies, scientific notions, and notes on the spirit of existence.

Employing musicians from all around the world - including members of the American Contemporary Music Ensemble ( ACME ), Golden Retriever, and the entire Budapest Scoring Orchestra - much of the music was conducted and recorded remotely via teleconference during the global COVID lockdowns of 2020 and 2021. This approach to composing served as an unintended but serendipitous challenge for an album inspired by the complicated convenience of technology.

(Whirring Marvels In) Consensus Reality blends an ornate combination of ingredients to construct a narrative of our dynamic invention; technological advancement; loneliness and isolationism; and unchecked idealism in a world of never-ending growth. The resulting hope that somehow emerges is itself a marvel of innovation and inspiration.

Like a winding system of trails and paths cutting through a digital forest-scape, M. Sage's Paradise Crick is shaped by time. Full of wonder and charm, designed patiently and from a rich, curious mulch of synthesized and acoustic sound, the versatile American artist and magic realist's new suite of music is an imaginary destination and a pastoral fantasy that envisions the natural and fabricated worlds as one. Matthew Sage is a musician, intermedia artist, recording engineer and producer, publisher, teacher, partner, and parent. Assembling a sprawling and idiosyncratic catalog of experimental studio music between Colorado and Chicago since the early 2010s, recent highlights include The Wind of Things (Geographic North, 2021), an ensemble-recorded expression of bow-splashed nostalgia, and the four seasonal albums of Fuubutsushi, the improvisatory ambient jazz quartet he formed with friends from afar in 2020. Sage renders projects with nuanced velocity and a completist sensibility _ when it's finished, it's done _ which is what makes Paradise Crick, his debut for RVNG Intl., a compelling outlier. Sage first staked his tent in Crick's conceptual campground five years ago from his home studio in Chicago (he's since returned to Colorado, home to the mountains and prairies often personified in his work). He had just read Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America, a kaleidoscopic reflection of pastoral America's shifting identity by way of magical fishing sojourns. Inspired by that feeling, of getting lost but finding oneself in through the outdoors, he amassed over seventy demos documenting a fictional soundtrack for camping. Pull up to this park, and the sign might read, "Welcome to Paradise Crick. Fire Danger Is Low." The sequence, pruned down to thirteen tracks, courses the dewy mornings, afternoon hikes, and firelit nights of a weekend expedition. While Sage is not a filmmaker, he views the method of making this album as a similar form of world-building via structure, narrative, formal elements, and editorial refinement. Contrasted with his collaborative craft, here he is a sole auteur reclined in total autonomy, able to improvise scenes and implement special effects at will. A parallel precedent for such unchecked imagination in the M. Sage canon is A Singular Continent, his 2014 album that tilted its compass to a faraway land. Where Continent built its world layering samples as composition, Paradise Crick deploys a balance of accessible song structures with experimental instrumentation and sound design. Speckled with harmonica, autoharp, chimes, penny whistle, voice, hand percussion, and other mysteries, Crick's texture is treated as a sensorial adventure; the swamps gurgle, the lakes glisten, and the valleys breathe in robust HD. The rhythms are loose and buoyant, bursting with a few `kick and snare' moments shaped by Sage's lifelong love for drumming and headphone prone electronic music. Crick bumps more than most anything he's done before; crackling static pulses and lush vibrations reveal an intrinsic groove, a hidden beat map. In the landscapes of Paradise Crick, science and magic co-exist, 5k boulders and midi frogs share the frame with real-life memories of Midwest camping trips and the desire to feel extra human in a digitized space. Sage strived for "nature in the holodeck" but couldn't help leaving fingerprints in the simulation, and it's these traces of spirit and character that give Paradise Crick its strange allure. The album's bubbling sense of play, melody, and timbre takes cues from left-field electronic lineage; synth pioneers like Tomita and Raymond Scott up through the more expressive pop tendencies of Woo, Stereolab and the Cocteau Twins, and into contemporary composers like Sam Prekop. The album's vocabulary is uncomplicated; the gestures are sweet and inviting, intended to lull the listener. As much as Sage continues to be an experimentalist by nature in his work, with Paradise Crick, he spins a narrative. Not necessarily a concept album, but rather an invitation to take off for a weekend. That's the modus operandi down here in the Crick, we stretch out. M. Sage's Paradise Crick will be released May 26, 2023 in LP, CD, and digital editions. A portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Earthjustice, the premier nonprofit public interest environmental law organization.

Jimmy LaValle’s The Album Leaf has spun from solo outlet to full band and back in its nearly 25 years. His acclaimed catalog spans releases for labels such as Sub Pop, City Slang, Relapse, and others. He also composes music for film and television, scoring over 20 projects (narrative features, documentaries, and TV series) since 2009. The cinematic sensibilities of The Album Leaf were present from the beginning. His 1999 debut introduced the start of a signature sound: melodic and meditative electro-organic soundscapes constructed with guitar, percussion, Rhodes, and field recordings.

His seventh full-length LP, and first since 2016, arrives in 2023 via Vancouver’s Nettwerk Records. FUTURE FALLING finds LaValle working with an array of musicians, shaping slightly darker, more spacious, and synth-driven songs with contributions from Bat For Lashes, Kimbra, and many others.
The music registers a shade darker and more synth-driven than most moments in his acclaimed catalog, a bridge between shadowy, cerebral terrain and dreamy precision pop, where softly percussive frameworks meet shimmering sound design and emotive instrumentation.
LaValle sees the construction of FUTURE FALLING as less conventional than past work. Contributions were done remotely with a “throw everything at it” mindset, making LaValle the arranger of layers from all over: drums, synths, horns, violins, voice, and more. LaValle created a pastiche of these layers and elements; in some cases even moving vocal takes to new tracks entirely. Without the in-the-room dynamics, he had more time to experiment, adding and subtracting ad infinitum.
The album opens on “PROLOGUE,” an evocative, slow-building instrumental that rides a pattern into a symphonic sea of static. Keys and horns glide atop the rhythmic pulse of “DUST COLLECTS,” setting the contemplative scene for “AFTERGLOW,” the record’s most pop-minded performance. Here Kimbra, the Grammy-winning New Zealand singer-songwriter, renders a striking recollection of past love as percussive elements shimmer and swirl.
A plaintive piano line moves throughout “Cycles 19.9” encircled by light ambient washes, both a valley between two peaks and a powerful composition in its own right. “Future Falling” follows; with origins tracing back to 2015, the track embodies the full sonic journey LaValle has taken. All the hallmarks of The Album Leaf — melodic builds, vivid sprawl, tonal shape-shifting — assemble to a blissful finish.

For the next stretch, “Cycles” begins with a uneasy Rhodes loop that builds and erupts into a wall of texture paving its way into “Give In,” where LaValle models a movement that begins subtle and measured before curving up with skyward, percussive bursts (“Stride”) and settling back down to the album’s back-half centerpiece, “Near” featuring the acclaimed English artist Natasha Khan aka Bat For Lashes. “Do you feel me near?” she sings into a mist of widescreen synths and soothing, distant drum beats as if searching through the dark.