Suche:repeat music

Unlike the spiraling momentum of the band's sophomore LP, pleasure suck, the spirit of the beehive takes a more grounded approach here, though the ground it's standing on is equally otherworldly. Dreamy is a fitting adjective, but the ten tracks on Hypnic Jerks never fully slip into the peaceful character of dream-pop. Hypnic Jerks has the quality of an indescribable dream fading from memory as you slowly begin to regain consciousness. Its warped guitar tones, transcendental synths and smattering of eerie audio samples conjure this purgatorial space between reverie and reality. It's an arena where the songs unexpectedly contort themselves and take on different textures, morphing in and out of one another. Once the celestial harmonies, balmy keys and creeping false climax of album closer it's gonna find you roll past, it's clear that the spirit of the beehive has secured a seat at this decade's table of musical visionaries.

Svitlana Okhrimenko (artist name: Svitlana Nianio) is a Ukrainian artist, musician, and signer. She is one of the most prominent representatives of the independent music scene of Kyiv in the late 1980s — early 90s. She has repeatedly recorded and performed in collaboration with other musicians and bands, such as Oleksandr Yurchenko, Sugar White Death (Cukor Bila Smert’), Ivanov Down, GeeNerve & Taran, and Blemish. Svitlana still performs and publishes new recordings today.

“Transilvania Smile” is one of the first solo works recorded in 1994. During this time, Svitlana repeatedly visited Germany, where she had the experience of playing in parks and on the streets, gathering contacts of the local art scene. Her cooperation with the international choreographic group Pentamonia, based in Cologne and consisting of several girls who performed in theaters, took part in various performances, and were engaged in music. They met in the 1990s during joint performances with "Sugar-White Death." After that, they corresponded, and the idea of doing something together arose. Svitlana attended several of their performances, which inspired her to write music for a new project, and the band members helped to realize their creative ideas. Later, they started rehearsing together.

The name “Transilvania Smile” was invented by the project participants, and it symbolized the mold on the mirror and the reflection of a smiling vampire. However, shortly before the premiere, they changed it to “Firefox”, as the participants actively used flashlights and the play of light and shadows in the scenography.

The premiere occurred in the local Urania theater, previously a gallery. Isabel Bartensein directed the choreography, and Svitlana played, sang, and improvised. She said it was an excellent experience for her and the band. Besides Cologne, they also performed in Aachen.

Later, Michael Springer offered Svitlana to record this material in his "Phantom" studio. They had already worked together and recorded music for their project (Svitlana Okhrimenko / Phanton). Michael was also interested in the Ukrainian independent scene and participated in the creation of several compilations that featured bands from Kyiv and Kharkiv. Svetlana played the piano and harmonium in the studio and also sang. After the recording, the material was never released in its entirety. Two compositions appeared on the cassette compilation “Shovaisia” (Hide) in 1995, some episodes were re-recorded for the “Kytytsi” album in 1999, but for a long time, the full version of this recording remained practically unknown to listeners and was kept in Svitlana's and Michael’s archives.

This album is one of the most personal and insightful works of Svitlana Nianio from the 90s, which you can now get to know in its original form and sound.

The first encounters of Chassol with Indian music date from his teenage years where, thanks to John Mc Laughlin and his band Shakti, he could hear ragas, rhythm structures and Indian instruments mixed with jazz.

Then came Ravi Shankar, Hariprasad Chaurasia and the devotional songs.
More recently, the documentaries by Louis Malle (Phantom India) and by Johan van der Keuken (The Eye Above The Well) left their marks on him and after having harmonized New-Orleans in "Nola Cherie", the choice to attempt at an harmonization of life, sounds, motifs, noises and traffic from Northern India quite naturally grew on him.

In Calcutta and Varanasi, India's most ancient city, he went to shoot sitarists, percussionists, singers, dancers, the kids, the Ganga, the city and the apparent chaos of the traffic.

Indiamore spreads over four movements, one same tonal harmonic suite of warm and real pop chords that marries the modal Indian music usually resting on a sole continuous bass line played by the tampura.

In repeating these images, in treating their sound as a music material and in harmonizing the actors' speech with his own harmonic obsessions, he achieves to blend a documentary approach into a

Selected Songs 1997-2003 compiles some of the finest moments in the recording history of Hydroplane, the Melbourne-based indie-pop three-piece that operated alongside The Cat’s Miaow through the second half of the nineties. It’s the third release in what feels, now, like a loosely planned series by World Of Echo, documenting the music made by this group of friends in Melbourne sharehouses (The Cat’s Miaow’s Songs ’94-’98, 2022), or in the case of The Shapiros (Gone By Fall, 2023), while traversing the International Pop Underground.

Hydroplane would be familiar to anyone already following these breadcrumb trails – Andrew Withycombe, Bart Cummings and Kerrie Bolton were the group’s core, all members of The Cat’s Miaow. With Cat’s Miaow drummer Cameron Smith itinerant, having moved to London, the trio used this opportunity to expand their music. It’s a subtle, but important shift. If The Cat’s Miaow was about the perfect, minimalist, two-minute pop song, Hydroplane’s music was far more open-ended, embracing the loops and drones, sampled house-y shuffle beats, the burbling of a Roland Jupiter-4 synth, all of which the trio joined, effortlessly, to their endless capacity for moving, elegant melodicism.

They may have only planned to release one seven-inch single, but the sound Hydroplane created was so bewitching, so compelling, that the project’s lifespan ran for around half a decade, and they ended up releasing three albums, including a self-titled debut recently reissued by Efficient Space, and seven singles. There are all kinds of compelling things happening in the music compiled here – the hazy repetition of the gentler side of Krautrock is in here, somewhere, which also suggests Stereolab at their most intimate and disarmed; the gently drifting guitars, gauzy and oneiric, set the songs adrift and floating, each one lost in its own imagined, distracted world. Songs like “The Love You Bring” set indistinct tonal floats across dance rhythms, in a way not quite heard since My Bloody Valentine’s “Instrumental” – but with the added gift of Bolton’s gorgeous voice.

This loose coalition with dance music, and the quiet experimentalism at the heart of Hydroplane, also gestures towards peers like Hood, Acetate Zero and Other People’s Children, and releases on renegade labels like Wurlitzer Jukebox and Enraptured. Like those groups and labels, The Cat’s Miaow were reconciling independent pop music’s past – sweet melody and melancholy, chiming and droning guitars – with the futures promised by DIY electronics and nascent digitalia, the interface of indie and IDM that led to some of the underground’s most blissful, texturally swoonsome music. All that is here, but also, the poise of the melodies is pure Cat’s Miaow, though, with Bolton’s voice sailing, pacifically, over some of the most pared-down, gorgeous music made during their decade.

It was a time, too, when such music could make waves – “We Crossed The Atlantic”, one of their early singles, was picked up by John Peel, who played it repeatedly on his legendary radio show, the song reaching #13 on his 1997 Festive 50. That the song itself was a cover of a tune by 1960s Australian beatnik-pop-poet Pip Proud felt even more perfect – a group of outsiders paying tribute to another outsider, played on the radio one of the few broadcasters brave and human enough to take a chance on this music. But it was a time where everything was up for grabs, and genres were flowing into each other: folk songs went drone; indie re-discovered noise; ambient pop floated, again, out onto the dancefloor. And while they may have been sequestered away in Melbourne, Australia, Hydroplane felt core to that scene, a quietly driving force.

Compiling material from across their brief but mercurial career, this double album perfectly captures the magic and mystery of Hydroplane’s dreamlike, perfect pop songs.

The Madlib Invazion Music Library Series Entry #1: JJ Whiteeld (Poets of Rhythm/Whiteeld Brothers/Karl Hector) takes on Ethiopian Jazz and Psychedelic Funk. This is the first in a series of music library releases, with future volumes produced by DJ Muggs, J-Zone, and Karriem Riggins, among others. The series starts here, with JJ Whitefield’s Ethio Meditations/Drama Al Dente. The Madlib Invazion Music Library Series was created by Madlib and Egon to give their creative friends a chance to stretch out and indulge in whatever type of music they wanted. This music was created for easy, one-stop clearance in film and television synchronization usage and for sampling. You can also enjoy these albums in the way that many do with the best of the best vintage library catalogs – listen, ponder, repeat.

Joel Paterson has been a mainstay of the Chicago roots music scene for
over twenty years, playing with many bands and showcasing his unique
blend jazz, blues, rockabilly, country and western swing
'Wheelhouse Rag' is a 14- track collection of original rags and country blues on
solo, finger picking acoustic guitar.
The all- acoustic, 1920's- tinged 'Wheelhouse Rag' may at first seem like a
departure in genre for the guitarist - he is predominantly known for his
instrumental multitracked recordings reminiscent of Les Paul and Chet Atkins -
Joel learned to play guitar by ear from the records of acoustic legends such as
Blind Blake, Robert Johnson, Reverend Gary Davis, and Big Bill Broonzy. He later
expanded his repertoire to include techniques of the thumb-picking giants Merle
Travis and Chet Atkins. These influences can be heard throughout the album,
mixed in with many more twists and turns from the mind of the artist, to bring
you, 'Wheelhouse Rag:' the original fingerstyle guitar instrumentals of Joel
Paterson.
Original fingerstyle guitar rag and country blues instrumentals by in-demand
Chicago roots guitarist Joel Paterson, who has played with Cactus Blossoms, JD
McPherson, Kelley Hogan, and more, bringing his unique blend of jazz, blues,
rockabilly, and country & western style to the mix.
RIYL: Les Paul, Chet Atkins, Reverend Gary Davis, Cactus Blossoms, Pokey
LaFarge, Merle Travis
"Guitarist Paterson's free-ranging music defies easy categorization. He addresses
classic country, blues and Tin Pan Alley tunes as timeless works that reward
repeated listening." - Howard Reich, Chicago Tribune"Of all the "vintage" artists
injecting new life into bygone styles with originality and a sense of humor, Joel
Paterson just might top the list." - Dan Forte, Vintage Guitar Magazine

Stephen Steinbrink discovered a short YouTube video of a street magician who approaches a highschooler walking home in Barstow, California. “Here, let me show you my idea,” he says, as he places a quarter on the kid’s hand. The magician performs some relaxed flourishes, and the coin vanishes. In silence, the kid stares at his hand at the nothing where there once, indisputably, was something, until his wonder finds a single word: “Cool.” The title of Disappearing Coin, the new album from Oakland songwriter Stephen Steinbrink, comes from this short clip. “When I look at it now,” he says, “I relate to the kid, who’s obviously uneasy in his body, and going through the experience of being a teenager in the early 2000s growing up in a bleak desert town like I did. I also relate to the coin, an inanimate disc of possibility. And I relate to the magician, an absurd facilitator of sending what is tactile and concrete into the wispy conceptual realm.” “I’ve watched it probably a hundred times,” he says. “It cracked me up but also blew my mind open the feeling of wonder I experienced watching this video became a guide as I navigated new ways of staying in the realm of what’s both real and magical.” Following the 2018 release of Utopia Teased, Steinbrink completed an apprenticeship in the nearly-lost art of Stained Glass, becoming a glazier at a studio that over three years, fully restored the enormous 90-year-old windows in San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. He committed to his Buddhist study, beginning lay monastic training before the process was thwarted by the pandemic. He dove deeper into music production for other artists, engineering two albums by Boy Scouts released on Anti- Records in 2018 and 2021. Steinbrink delighted in the way these pursuits pulled at the thread of ego’s tapestry and decentralized him from his craft, allowing him to embody a new role as a creative caretaker engaging in practices that felt communal and restorative. “As I slowly began writing for myself again, I tried to imbue my new songs with this sense of playfulness and wonder I felt while exploring these other interests.” He says. Feeling unlocked from the pressures of perfection that he often felt in his earlier work, creating Disappearing Coin felt buoyant and healing. “The album feels like an integration of all of my past musical selves zeroing in on the present,” Steinbrink explains, “I felt free to explore new ways of writing, through different perspectives, experimenting with fictional songwriting, visual archetypal language, and total collaboration.” This “total collaboration” was a joyous new venture after years of solo performing and recording. The album can be seen as a 42 minute session of show and tell, the manifestation of Steinbrink repeating the mantra of “Here, let me show you my idea” to himself over and over. Disappearing Coin is at once a welcome return for the veteran Steinbrink and the debut of a totally new artist, one who has found a new path to himself with new goals of openness, curiosity, and self-acceptance. “Recalls the magic pop purity of Arthur Russell...its minimalism manages to feel enlightened and transformative.” PITCHFORK // “Melodic and self-assured. Steinbrink delivers his knotted lyricism with a smooth lilt.

SDEM’s debut LP for Mancunian electronic music imprint Skam Records.

VORTICES 9 tracks continue SDEM’s current prolific flow after a steady series of drops via his own
MEDS label & other like-minded operators (CPU, Opal Tapes, Seagrave, Superpang etc..)

Informed by hiphop & computer music and steeped in Northern England's post bleep+bass
mutations, VORTICES operates in its own lane, rooted as much in the by-hand manipulations of
musique concrete and free improv as the studio-as-an-instrument innovations of electro, hiphop, dub and bass weighted electronica.

Evolved out of hardware jams, the pieces showcased here crackle with emotion and colour,
repeated plays reveal suggested and subliminal depths. Neither shackled to the grid nor enslaved to linearity, the LP expands & finesses SDEM's dynamic & forward facing approach

Dutch multi-instrumentalist Felbm returns with the conceptual album "cycli infini" : a 38-minute composition of metamorphosing tape loops, musical patterns and instrumental sketches. Further exploring the concept is the vinyl release which features the track spread over both sides and cut to the end of each locked groove - creating an essentially never-ending piece that challenges the idea of the traditional listening process. The idea came to fruition by way of a lifelong interest and growing awareness of the cyclical nature of the world around him - be it through observing nature, or the mathematical and mind-bending works of Dutch artist MC Escher, or minimalist composers such as Erik Satie, Laraaji and Melaine Dalibert.

"The openness of Laraaji"s and Satie"s music have also been an influence to create a certain softness and feeling of comfort, as I like this piece to be a place you want to revisit", says Felbm, real name Eelco Topper. While Topper"s previous releases on Soundway Records comprised series of short, individual sketches, on cycli infini the tapestry is sewn seamlessly together using a step-like progression through the circle of fifths, which as the name suggests, brings the listener back to the musical key and soundscape at which they started. Should the full track be on repeat, it begins anew without being noticed. The piece began life with a layer of drone loops using tapes and delay pedals, over which acoustic instruments such as flute, saxophone and bass trumpet would playfully but gently interpret a melody - toying with jazz, ambient, fourth world and percussive sounds. As the music evolves through the key progression, organic elements such as birdsong and wind chimes ground the piece in nature. Says Topper: "the never-ending metamorphosis of matter has always fascinated me, the idea that nothing ever really disappears and everything has already been here... just in different shapes."

The Madlib Invazion Music Library Series Entry #2: From The Nesta Vaults: Jake Ferguson with Malcolm Catto (Heliocentrics) take on Cosmic Funk and Psychedelic Jazz. This is the next up in a series of music library releases, with future volumes produced by DJ Muggs, J-Zone, and Karriem Riggins, among others. The series continues with Jake Ferguson’s Emotions Run Dry featuring Malcolm Cattio. The Madlib Invazion Music Library Series was created by Madlib and Egon to give their creative friends a chance to stretch out and indulge in whatever type of music they wanted. This music was created for easy, one-stop clearance in film and television synchronization usage and for sampling. You can also enjoy these albums in the way that many do with the best of the best vintage library catalogs – listen, ponder, repeat.

THE LEGENDARY 1980 ALBUM REMASTERED FROM THE ORIGINAL TAPES.
• 2LP SET WITH 12” X 12” BOOKLET.
• INLCUDES THE PREVIOUSLY UNRELEASED ‘COMS 1-3 RDX SUITE’ (TAKEN FROM THE ‘COMMERCIAL
ALBUM’ MULTITRACK TAPES).
• PRODUCED WITH THE RESIDENTS AND THE CRYPTIC CORPORATION.
• THE SEVENTH IN A SERIES OF VINYL RE-ISSUES OF THE RESIDENTS’ CLASSIC 70S ALBUMS.
Formed in the early 1970s, The Residents have now been charting a unique path through the
musical landscape for 50 years. In celebration of that remarkable and unlikely anniversary, we
present an expanded vinyl edition of the classic 1980 LP ‘Commercial Album’.
Following almost a decade spent attempting to redefine what pop music could be, but with zero
hit singles to show for it, The Residents finally caved and produced their own pop music album as
the 80s dawned. But rather than have each song repeat the same minute of music three times as
per the traditional pop format, The Residents produced no less than 40 one-minute pop
masterpieces, and invited the listener to do the repeating bit themselves if they felt the need.
The resulting ‘Commercial Album’ both showcased the incredible depth of the group’s musical
palette and proved definitively that they could easily be as big as The Beatles if they wanted to.
Probably bigger, actually.
Featuring a breathless collage of toe-tappers, memorable melodies, instrumental experiments
and guest performers (Fred Frith, Chris Cutler and XTC’s Andy Partridge among them), the
record has since acquired legendary status among both fans and confused onlookers alike.
Alongside the original album, this 2LP edition presents the ‘COMS 1-3 RDX Suite’ – a brand new
interpretation of (almost) the entire album, produced by the group using the original multi-track
tapes – and a brand new sleevenote essay shedding new light on the album’s production.
‘Commercial Album’ is the latest in The Residents’ extensive ongoing pREServed series – expect
more throughout 2023 and 2024. Possibly even 2025 too, the way things are going.

In an era defined by futility, isolation, and precarity, it can be difficult to envision a utopia. But on Skeleten’s thrilling, immersive debut album, Under Utopia, the Sydney musician dares to imagine new ways of being that are not characterized by doom or despair. Across eleven tracks of free-flowing, transcendent, and often euphoric electronic music, Skeleten praises the power of comradery and community; while dreaming of a future that is joyously boundless. 



Skeleten, real name Russell Fitzgibbon, has always been fascinated by the ideas of utopias. He’s thought a lot about how the concept has shifted and morphed throughout history, and how the goal post for a utopia is always moving further and further away. “We're more familiar with the idea of a dystopia in the modern world - that's more close to our consciousness. I think on this album I wanted to explore the importance of imaging and embodying a new world.”

Written before and during the pandemic, the album was born out of a desire to connect with others and to shake the mantle of introspection that had been placed on his previous works. From the opening notes of the otherworldly album opener “Generator”, it's clear that this record prioritises immediate pleasures without forgoing intimacy. The lyrics are also more explicit, reaching outward with inviting choruses and mantra-like melodies. “I think the album came out of the experience of feeling this great desire to reconnect and dreaming of the power of community,” says the musician.

This is especially present in lead single ‘Sharing The Fire’, a song that crackles with optimism. A sprawling dance track with pulsating synths and Fitzgibbon’s gentle, warm vocals, the song is about futures that are full of brightness and bliss. As the artist repeats in the song’s chorus: “for all that you know, summer could be around the corner.” The song is about an “almost frustrated desire to connect with more people and feel that sense of community through shared goals.” The accompanying video clip, shot on 35mm, is similarly invested in ideas of companionship and gathering. Shot in a clinical, drab office space, friends and revelers fill the space with warmth and energy.

Elsewhere, this invocation of paradise is infused in the stripped-back, singular title track “Under Utopia”. The song was significant to Fitzgibbon, as it allowed him to gather all his thoughts and ideas about his new music under one message. “It’s something I wrote when I had this collection of songs and wanted to give it a single voice, which was about seeing the world entirely new, full of hope and beauty, and all of us underneath pushing it upwards.” 

An antidote for gloom presented in Under Utopia is the transformative power of love. There’s “Heart Full Of Tenderness”, a woozy, languorous love song, awash with cloudy vocals and glistening synths; the truncated beats and hypnotic pleading of “Territory Day” and “Right Here It’s Only Love” which explores the icier and ambient side of R’n’B.


Another hallmark that characterizes Under Utopia is Fitzgibbon’s airy and spacious mix, which gives his songs room to sprawl out and simmer; as well as allowing his calming baritone to come to the fore. This is notable in the contemplative, synth-laden “Colour Room”, the funk-tinged “Walking On Your Name,” the previously released “No Drones in the Afterlife,” and the beloved early single “Mirrored,” which speaks of finding yourself through a connection to those around you.

Fitzgibbon has been enmeshed in the Sydney music scene for years. Skeleten emerged out of a need to experiment and make music without worrying about the outcome. “It was just me making music that felt right, and very much focusing on this kind of meditative aspect of exploring without any goal,” says Fitzgibbon. But as the project has evolved, the artist has gained clarity on what he hopes his music will achieve: bringing people together, and creating an atmosphere of elation. Or as Fitzgibbon puts it on Under Utopia’s hallucinatory album closer “We’re gonna get everything we need in the world.”

Detroit's Rebecca Goldberg, aka 313 Acid Queen, releases 5 techno bangers incl. Mark Broom remix on Phoq U.

Phoq U Phonogrammen, the rebellious U-TRAX sublabel, returns after 26 years with its eight release, produced and manufactured in Detroit. Detroit native Rebecca Goldberg, who has previously released music and performed live under her 313 Acid Queen alias, will present her brand new People Mover EP at the Detroit Movement festival, on May 26, 2023.

The EP features 5 dancefloor fillers, including the Detroit-style remix by Mark Broom of the opening track Automated. The EP is inspired by transportation, industry and travel, as well as the city of Detroit of course, paying homage to the original minimal techno music and the evolution of technology and industry.

All tracks are live jams, recorded in one take on all hardware instruments. Rebecca tries to do as little post-work as possible, with just a little bit of final arrangement. Her work often incorporates field recorded sounds, and for this EP she used samples recorded while riding on the Detroit People Mover itself, the elevated automated light rail system in downtown Detroit. Goldberg started a sound walk group called Detroit Frequency and the recordings were taken on during the first event last summer.

The EP kicks off with the fast-paced Automated, that echoes the hypnotic minimal techno sound of Robert Hood. Mark Broom added an extra dose of 909 funk in his Mark Broom remix, which provides the track with even more pumping rhythms and making it sound even more 'classic Detroit'.

The B-side opens with Elevated, that features industrial-ish DPM sounds on a bed of pure acid, as if Goldberg wants us to remember why she is named the 313 Acid Queen.
Staying On meanwhile, puts a repeating DPM announcer's voice central stage, making it a fascinating piece of minimal techno. The closing track Linear Motion creates a dark atmosphere, with eerie, down-pitched DPM sounds that makes this a spooky techno trip that we believe many people will love.

Indonesian City Sound: Panbers’ Psychedelic Rock and Funk 1971-1974

The Pandjaitan Brothers or Panbers came from the North Sumatra minority Christian group, the Bataks, whose ancestry traces back to an island at the center of Lake Toba. As a minority group within Indonesia's Muslim-dominated society, this ethnic minority has produced top military generals, celebrity lawyers, and a legion of pop and rock superstars.

Suffice to say, some of the biggest names in the country's pop history were Bataks. Panbers fit the bill perfectly.

The band's strong Christianity belief looms heavily in the music they produce. The prominent use of the Hammond organ in their early materials is evocative of church music the band members have been around in their whole life. Bandleader Benny Pandjaitan's fills his characteristic wail with existential dread, with many utterances of the word "mengapa" (why).

Guilt is another central theme Pandjaitan repeatedly comes back to in his lyrics. But they balance it with joy, on songs such as "Come on You Dance" "Let's Dance Together" or "Haai" (a play on the word high), where references to recreational substances are plentiful.

Although they modeled themselves after the era's rock bands Beatles and fellow countrymen Koes Plus, Panbers had a unique aversion to the electric guitar. In "Jakarta City Sound," a fiery three-note guitar solo is laid so far down in the mix that they are barely audible. In "Haai" they modify the guitar to sound like a jungle instrument playing traditional North Sumatran music. In "Rock and the Sea," arguably their most well-known song globally, they decided to ditch electric guitar altogether and replace it with a sitar.

In the absence of an electric guitar, Panbers had to rely on Doan's inventive bass playing and Asido's drum works to do the heavy lifting - and boy, do they deliver (Their 1971 debut "Volume 1" saw plenty of drum breaks). In this compilation, listeners will hear recordings from Panbers' fertile four-year period - a time that produced in some of the grooviest and hardest-sounding psychedelic music in Indonesia's rock history.

For those uninitiated on the glory Panbers, consider this compilation an introduction to some of earliest and heaviest rock sound to come out of Indonesia.

From Alehouse to Playhouse Bjarte Eike and his barnstorming Barokksolistene capture the vital spark of Restoration London’s entertainment scene with a captivating new recording for Rubicon Classics! The Playhouse Sessions will be released on 23 September 2022 to coincide with Barokksolistene’s concert double-bill at London’s Southbank Centre.

‘A smattering of Purcell, dances from Playford’s Dancing Master, shanties, reels and ballads succumb to a nine-piece ensemble drawing on Baroque, jazz and folk styles for a no holds barred hooley of riotous improvisatory give and take,’ (BBC Music Magazine review of The Alehouse Sessions, August 2019)

London’s musicians, pushed in the 1650s, to the margins of society by order of Oliver Cromwell, found room for new forms of entertainment in city-centre taverns and alehouses. They remained there long after the restoration of the monarchy, performing sets of dances, theatre songs and bawdy ballads to audiences glad to be free from Puritan constraints on pleasure.

Norwegian violinist Bjarte Eike and his Barokksolistene have restored the spirit and substance of those long-forgotten performances with their Alehouse Sessions, hailed by The Times as ‘irresistible’ and ‘fabulously unrestrained’ by The Guardian. Five years ago the Norwegian violinist and his band scored a best-selling album with The Alehouse Sessions on Rubicon Classics. They return to the label with another compelling collection of music and words of the kind on offer more than three centuries ago at Henry Purcell’s favourite Westminster watering holes. The Playhouse Sessions, set for release on Rubicon Classics on 23 September 2022, reflects the uplifting energy and engaging emotional contrasts of Barokksolistene’s Alehouse performances.

“The album contains a sort of inner narrative that runs through the recording,” says Bjarte Eike. “It has become like a play in its own right, with each track being a small tale within a larger story.” The recording’s tracklist includes Eike’s beguiling arrangements of music from Purcell’s semi-opera The Fairy Queen and his own original compositions on words from the play on which it is based, Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream; popular songs and ballads such as ‘The Irish Washerwoman’, ‘I often for my Jenny strove’ and ‘The Three Ravens’; tunes from Purcell’s welcome odes and stage shows, Come ye sons of art and Dido and Aeneas among them; the ‘Willow Song’ from Shakespeare’s Othello; Eike’s own voice in Puck’s monologue from Act 5 of A Midsummer Night’s Dream; and John Dowland’s sublime air ‘Can she excuse my wrongs’.

London’s theatres were closed at the start of the English Civil War in 1642 and remained shut until the Restoration. Alehouses offered redundant musicians, actors and dancers a place to scrape a precarious living and soon became their creative refuge. “Although a few surviving theatres reopened in 1660 with the return of Charles II, there was little money around to rebuild those that had been demolished,” observes Bjarte Eike. “And a generation of musicians had already found an audience in places like the Black Horse in Aldersgate Street. So popular were their alehouse sessions that Cromwell tried to abolish them! But they outlived him and became part of Restoration musical life.” The form of a Barokksolistene Alehouse, he adds, is like a creative room. “Within its framework I can frequently refurbish the show with new contents. The Playhouse project is likewise an extension of the ever-evolving Alehouse Sessions. Together they tell the story of music and theatre in London during Cromwell’s time and after the Restoration. Of course there’s an historical context to what we do. But there’s also the practical context – which is even more important to me – of connecting with a contemporary twenty-first century audience. An Alehouse / Playhouse performance is not something for the museum; it's about music made in the present moment, just as it was in the London alehouses of Purcell’s day -- with their playhouses annexed to the rear of the beer-drinking saloons. The encounter of musicians onstage and the audience in the hall is the real magic of it. We have to fuse the audience into the action of our performance!”

The Playhouse Sessions will be launched on Friday 23 September with a late-night concert at the Purcell Room and a post-concert Alehouse Session in the foyer of the Queen Elizabeth Hall. Soprano Mary Bevan is set to join Eike and his Alehouse Boys for the first half of their Southbank Centre double-bill, offering unique interpretations of songs from Purcell shows and other hits from the late seventeenth-century London stage. “The Southbank Centre is a direct descendant of concerts given in the 1650s in the alehouses of London,” notes Eike. “These alehouses after all staged some of the world’s first public concerts. Later, after the Restoration, it became common for promoters to advertise alehouse concerts in the press and offer subscription tickets. Purcell and his fellow musicians were thus just as at home performing there as they were in the chambers of the royal court or in London’s new theatres.”

Bjarte Eike launched his Alehouse Sessions in company with like-minded musicians 15 years ago. The ensemble comprises a core of regular performers, all of whom have committed to memory a huge setlist of up to four hours of music. Typically they meet a day or so before a concert tour to share a meal and make music together; then next day, re-grouping thirty minutes before the show, they discover Eike’s select-menu for the evening. “That ensures that every show is fresh,” he notes. “I make sure we never repeat the same programme twice. It’s therefore essential to work with people who share my outlook and dare to adventure. We’re into a high-risk sport, with lots of traps and places where the unexpected appears - for good or for ill. And so the audience knows we’re vulnerable. But our skill is seen in how we re-act on the hoof to the unpredictable. That’s authenticity and honesty - and above all it’s a performance that’s genuine.”

Armed with a classical training and a background in folk music and improvisation, Bjarte Eike was drawn naturally to Early Music in all its stylistic variety. “I never really felt at home with only one genre,” he recalls. “Early Music allowed me to study profound, complicated compositions, but performing it has also opened up the chance of rebellion and uproar! Early music offers wide, multi-faceted areas of musical exploration for me. You find, for instance, links to different types of music wherever you look in seventeenth-century English repertoire. And I am fascinated by all these connections. They offer a foundation for the Alehouse Sessions and for all Barokksolistene performance more generally. Every member of the group plays, sings, dances and improvises without limitation. We’re all interested in the many different fields of being a stage performer and pushing hard at the ‘normal’ boundaries of what it means to be a classical musician.”

Phi-Psonics is a meditative, deeply soulful immersive jazz group from
Los Angeles, led by bassist Seth Ford-Young and featuring Sylvain
Carton on woodwinds, Mitchell Yoshida on electric piano, and Josh
Collazo on drums. Their deeply soulful music draws on jazz and
classical influences together with Ford-Young’s own musical
experiences, relationships, and his introduction to spirituality, yoga and philosophy at a young age, along the way they create something
uniquely their own, beautiful landscapes for your thoughts to roam
within.

Octava is their second album and like the Cradle before it’s emotional,
introspective, and unusual approach to spiritual jazz offers us a
beautiful space for uplifting contemplation and wields a quiet power to create a spiritually inspiring world of timeless, warm melodies and
instrumental exploration for the deep listener. Originally from
Washington DC area, Ford-Young moved to California in the early 90s
and fell in love with the deep sounds of the upright bass and the music of Charles Mingus, John and Alice Coltrane, and Duke Ellington along with Bach, Chopin, Pärt, and Satie. He immersed himself deeply in music and keen to learn combined intense personal study with
collaborations, tours, and recordings with artists such as Tom Waits,
Beats Antique, and John Vanderslice. In 2010 he moved from the SanFrancisco Bay area to the Los Angeles hills and continued his
explorations and although Phi-Psonics music has been described as
spiritual jazz, or deep immersive listening music but this is music for
fans of Radiohead and The Invisible as well as fans of Alice Coltrane
and Pharaoh Sanders.

The album opens with Invocation as we embark on our journey. The
repeated melody at the end feels ancient but also contains an energy
that is driving forward. An Offering is a humble but beautiful tune full of texture and colour. We Walk in the Gardens of Our Ancestors shows clear eyed reverence for those who came before us as we walk through their gardens. Green Dreams is a tender, gentle love song to Seth’s wife.Where We've Been Is a group improvisation centered around the drums. Lunar Reflections is a romantic ode to nature that draws inspiration from where Seth lives a green oasis within the sprawling cityscapes of LA. Becoming draws on memories of the dark days of 2020 but this was a period that was also full of beauty and light and this song elevates and uplifts us. Finally New You offers hope of change

Byard Lancaster was a composer/multi-instrumentalist born in Philadelphia in 1942. He started playing alto saxophone at an early age and later took up flute and bass clarinet. While attending Berklee College of Music, Lancaster and pianist Dave Burrell organized late-night jam sessions with fellow students and touring musicians. In 1965, he moved to New York and quickly became part of the city's burgeoning scene – playing with jazz luminaries such as Archie Shepp, Sunny Murray, Bill Dixon and Marzette Watts.

It's Not Up To Us, Lancaster's 1968 debut as a leader, was originally released on Vortex, a subsidiary of Atlantic responsible for first albums by Chick Corea, Keith Jarrett and Sonny Sharrock. Featuring guitarist Sharrock (another Berklee alum), It's Not Up To Us is true fire music – fusing elements of free jazz, soul/R&B and traditional folk song.

On the opening title track, Lancaster's luminous flute draws the listener in, while bassist Jerome Hunter grounds the tune with a simple descending theme over Keno Speller and Eric Gravatt's syncopated rhythms. "John's Children," a reference to the group's status as post-Coltrane players, showcases the modal strumming of Sharrock's steady drones as Lancaster cries into the void. After repeated listens, Lancaster's original compositions become visceral aural memories ingrained in the ear, while the standards ("Misty" and "Over The Rainbow") sound the most avant-garde pieces on the album.

This first-time vinyl reissue is recommended for fans of Albert Ayler, Don Cherry and Pharoah Sanders.

Brian Jonestown Massacre, Velvet Underground, TOY. “Upon the highways of Freedom, where Evil is like a Ferrari… “ Unbeknownst to its members, Index For Working Musik was born on an evening in late 2019 amidst the discovery of a collection of faded b&w photocopies that had been marinating on the floor of a urine-alley in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. An assortment of sacred and profane imagery were crumpled amongst an essay on early Christian hermits, entitled Men Possessed by God, the meaning of which was enticingly vague. Received together, they planted the seeds for a new endeavour. Though Max Oscarnold and Nathalia Bruno were already engaged in a creative ping-pong of sorts, the results to this point had only totaled a 30 min long ½ inch tape containing one track and four interludes. They needed a page and they needed ink, and they needed a place and it needed energy. Suddenly by chance or divine intervention, their experimental venture had been given form and direction. Back home in London’s cursed smog, they moved themselves and their 8-track studio into a basement in E8, where the project’s gravitational pull gained strength, quickly developing into an unexpected collective with the incorporation of drummer Bobby Voltaire, double bass player E. Smith and guitarist J. Loftus. As the world shifted around them and the Plague Years followed, it became increasingly clear that they were not going to leave that small basement room. The scarcity of light or outer world presence was less a limitation, instead the main tool at hand, allowing the recording to stretch for boundaryless days in architectural isolation, and forcing them to make straight forward free guitar music, adopting a ‘first thought, best thought’ approach. 35 minutes of repeat phrased guitars, slow-clipped drums and dulcet vocals where the recurring landscape is the desert. Reel-to reel-loops of Afghan music compete with the found sound overlays of voices recorded at the queue of the pharmacy and drum machines borrowed from Spanish heroes, channelling both far-off climes and snippets from a closer reality. It’s a strange psychic brew, built of imagined mysticism and domestic realities, of fever dreams and days that stretched into weeks of months. What was sparked by that discovery in the Gothic Quarter was actually a realisation that what they were looking for was with them all the while, buried as it was in piles of voice memos and recorded guitar feedback. Men Possessed By God they may be not: it was self-possession that was to guide their way in the end. “Life, despite all its destructive changes, remains indestructibly powerful and joyful

History has proven that when the world is in flames, it ignites the empathetic artists to siren their words, music, and rhythm, to blanket our society"s fury and nurse scorched souls. The seemingly endless years of pandemic lockdown and social distancing, coupled with the turbulent plague of civil unrest and racial injustice, called on Vintage Trouble to step into their battle wear. Like so often before, they have spun records to drop onto the fighting grounds, with the intent to freeze the frame long enough to momentarily halt the warring world. And while at ease, we can freely choose to think before we strike or decide to retreat, rather than thoughtlessly charge into repeating history. This collection of heavy hymns is from the heart, and it provides a necessary rise to our ever reckoning.

Born from the fractal innerworld of Vymethoxy Redspiders,
better known as Urocerus Gigas from Leeds-based xenofeminist
crisis energy rock duo Guttersnipe, The Ephemeron Loop's
debut is a synaesthetic acid bath that cracks open the doors of
perception to reveal a sonic landscape of ineffable beauty,
divine femininity and continual transformation.

"PsychonauticEscapism" sublimes Guttersnipe's teeth-gnashing spacegrindaesthetic leaving washes of dream pop ambience, dilated
speedcore fusillades and shapeshifting psychedelic dub effects.

It's an album that lodges itself creatively between Cocteau
Twins, Arca, Basic Channel and Napalm Death, lysergically
fluxing imperceptibly between seemingly contradictory sonics
and philosophies. Miss VR took 14 long, difficult years to write
the album, which developed cautiously as she broke through
the misery of her pre-transition life with shoegaze music, rave
and psychedelic drugs in Leeds' queer underground. An
existence languishing in negativity, soundtracked by extreme
music was replaced with the opportunity to experience
euphoria, elation and ecstatic freedom, emotions that coalesce
sensually on "Psychonautic Escapism".

These formativeexperiences are the album's initial building blocks, assembled between 2007 and 2018 as Miss VR came to grips with her
reality as an autistic/ADHD trans woman and the multidimensional psychotropic experiences that assisted that realization. And as V's worldview expanded and shifted as she lived a fresh life, the music itself developed spiritually. In 2018,after being impressed with producer Ross Halden's work with Guttersnipe, Miss VR asked him to assist her with developing The Ephemeron Loop's fragmented songs and visions. "I learned a lot about why people don't usually combine various kinds of sounds or styles in music," she admits. "It is very difficult to get it to all work together!" But after two-and-a-half years of the duo navigating a "labyrinth of fragmented Reason 5 and Logic
projects," re-recording and processing, and working tirelessly on
complex arrangements and compositions, they eventually found
a light at the end of the tunnel. The finished album is towering
and ambitious, Escher-like in its illusory reconstruction of
familiar elements into brain-altering forms. The album begins
with 'Psychonautic Escapism (Cold Alienation)', decorating Miss
VR's disembodied moans with throbbing dub techno synths,
insectoid digital percussion and disorientating high-BPM
electronics.

Her vocals hover weightlessly between My Bloody Valentine's Bilinda Butcher and Cocteau Twins' Elizabeth Fraser, and on 'Lattice Dysmorphism of Lysothymic Oneiroid Cytoterrain' drift against grinding industrial hardcore kicks, serrated bass and Lorenzo Senni-esque trance pointillism. On 'Trench Through Pink Death', Miss VR's voice mutates into a shrill scream as she directs the music from splattered freeflowing doom into harsh hyper-speed death metal and
breakcore. Woven together with both precision and delicacy, "Psychonautic Escapism" turns a rough patchwork of ideas,
experiences, feelings and vivid emotions into a glorious neon
tapestry. In living and exploring the realities of autism, ADHD
and trans identity, Vymethoxy Redspiders has masterminded a
sonic language that feels fresh, urgent and shockingly honest.
Psychedelic is a term that gets thrown around far too loosely at
the moment - in this case there's just no better way of
describing the album's scope.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Symphony No. 107 –The Bard, a previously unheard archival recording of the legendary improvising ensemble MEV (Musica Elettronica Viva), captured in concert at Bard College, New York in 2012. Formed by a group of American expat composers in Rome in 1966, the MEV ensemble played an important role in the development of free improvisation, bridging the live electronics tradition begun by Cage and Tudor and the high-energy squall of free jazz. Early recordings like Spacecraft or The Sound Pool unleash volleys of metal and glass amplified with contact microphones, howling winds, primitive synthesizer bleep and raucous audience participation, the intensity of which puts much later ‘noise’ to shame. In later decades, the ensemble would go through many iterations, often including legendary free players like Steve Lacy and George Lewis. In its final years, MEV settled into the core trio of founding members heard here: Alvin Curran, Frederic Rzewski, and Richard Teitelbaum, using piano, electronics, and small instruments.

Curran, Rzewski, and Teitelbaum were life-long friends blessed, as Curran says, with ‘incompatible personalities’: major figures in the post-Cagean experimental tradition, they explored countless divergent and even contradictory paths as composers and performers, from agitprop songs to brainwave-controlled synthesis. MEV is the sound of these three personalities coming together, their contributions radically individual yet attaining a state of ‘fundamental unity’ that Rzewski, in a text written in the collective’s earliest years, defined as the ‘final goal of improvisation’. Of course, listeners familiar with aspect of the trio’s individual works might hazard some guesses about who is doing what: the crisp piano figures are probably Rzewski’s, the cut-up hip-hop samples most likely Curran’s, the sliding, squelching synth possibly Teitelbaum’s. But often these identities are dissolved in a constantly shifting hall of mirrors, the listener unable to tell which of these pianos is live and which is a sample of a past virtuoso, or whether a horn blast derives from ethnographic documentation or Curran cutting loose on Shofar. The two side-long sets here occupy a similar terrain of constantly shifting texture and instrumentation, unexpected interruptions, and moments of sudden beauty. The first set is sparser, at times almost ominous, as a bell repeatedly sounds across wheezing harmonica, seasick orchestral textures, and creaking wood, making room for episodes of yodelling and delicate prepared piano before exploding into a storm of buzzing synth and piano fragments. The second set is more frenetic, moving rapidly across centuries and continents: cars crash into post-serial piano pointillism, wailing voices collide with chopped and screwed hip-hop samples, Hollywood strings are buried under layers of electronic gurgles. The performance slows in its final moments, making way for a sampled voice repeating the phrase ‘protest and the good of the world’, reminding us that MEV’s idea of freedom was always more than musical. Symphony No. 107 –The Bard is a beautifully recorded example of the endlessly multi-layered later MEV sound, accompanied by new liner notes by Alvin Curran (now the only surviving member of the group) and a selection of previously unseen photographs from across the many decades of the group’s activity. Arriving in an elegant sleeve bearing a beautiful photograph by Francis Zhou of the Olin Hall at Bard College where the concert was recorded, this is an essential document from a major group in the history of experimental music. As Rzewski wrote, this music is ‘like life, unpredictable, sometimes making sense, mostly not’.

Lost soul phenomenon Lewis Taylor's Numb finally arrives on double vinyl! One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, most enigmatic figures and most under-appreciated talents, Andrew Lewis Taylor is a prodigious multi-instrumentalist and eclectic polymath. He enjoys a fiercely loyal following which, over the years, has included celebrity champions like Bowie, Elton and D'Angelo. Numb is Taylor's sixth album, initially released on his own label Slow Reality (an anagram of his name) and licensed to Be With for this long-awaited physical edition. It captures Taylor's wholly unique, intoxicating take on lush, late-night psychedelic soul music.

Lewis wrote and recorded these 10 brand new tracks after a 17 year break from making music, although the album came together over a two-year period. The years away have done nothing to dull Taylor's unique musical vision. He still astounds. The lyrical themes, however, have shifted. Understandably, more than a decade and a half of soul searching and unflinching self-examination cannot fail to influence this most honest of songwriters, and boy does it show. Numb marks a return to the darker, more mysterious side of his output: "Brian Wilson-channels-Smokey Robinson atmospheres", as Mojo put it recently.

After playing a rapturously received gig at the Bowery Ballroom in NYC in 2006, Lewis unceremoniously walked away from music and disappeared completely. An interview in 2016 shed light on some of the reasons for Taylor’s withdrawal from the business, but there was no hint of a return anytime soon. Then in June 2021, news emerged out of the blue that he was readying new music alongside Sabina Smyth with whom he had worked first time around.

On Numb, Lewis deftly balances stark, soul-bearing lyrics with moody mid-tempo pop-soul sheen. He deals candidly with depression, mental turmoil, even thoughts of suicide - clearly more personal than Taylor's earlier songs. The music is rich, warm and layered, with infectious melodies and hooks that stick with you. A true grower of an LP, it really does reward repeated listens. As Jim Irvin in Mojo reflected, "despite the depths these plumb, it's a curiously uplifting experience, unfurling like a concept album about life's challenges with an optimistic beauty at its heart."

Triumphant dubwise horns ring out yet, almost instantly, “Final Hour” takes on a dark, downbeat vibe. With lyrics that confront (and, seemingly, confound) death head-on, Lewis ensures the groove is still there, the beats still swing and your head still nods, strings glissade. Woven around delicate yet insistent piano and subtle strings over a killer bassline, the title track “Numb” is a good example of the lyrical themes throughout the album. As Taylor reflects, "So removed I feel no pain / And for all I know I could be having the time of my life" with a coda that feels very much in conversation with Brian Wilson's finest harmonies. "Feels So Good" is sophisticated 90s-sounding soul of the highest order. The music and vocals feel simultaneously optimistic and despondent. Downlifting. A neat trick, and one Lewis has been so adept at over the years. "Apathy" is a mini-epic, a symphonic-soul gem which builds and glides and, eventually, soars. “Worried Mind" is another slow-builder, creeping out the gate in a sketchy, discordant fashion before climbing to half-crescendo but never quite breaking free of its disorientating restraint.

The brighter "Please" presents a more hopeful mood, with the refrain "I still believe" ringing out as Lewis harmonises with himself. "Brave Heart" quietly struts from step one, as Lewis's falsetto swaggers over a downtempo backdrop with ace echoey drums, beautiful strings and serene electric guitar. Closing out Side C, "Is It Cool" answers its own (non-) question with a spellbinding five and a half minutes of swoonsome deep soul that oscillates between a restrained, barely-there backdrop and a lushly full musical accompaniment of acoustic and electric guitar and organ over bass and slick drums. The penultimate track "Nearer" is a magical, soul-stirring ballad in which Lewis sings of reaching a sweet salvation and achieving a peace of mind. If the hairs on the back of your neck aren't standing up by the midway point, you might need to check your pulse. Album closer and true tear-jerker "Being Broken" places Lewis's gorgeous voice high in the mix and the wordless falsetto and melodies invite you to ponder what Pet Sounds might sound like if it were refashioned as a dubby 21st Century electronic soul album. Astonishing.

Simon Francis’s vinyl mastering spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so, as ever, nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Cicely Balston at Air Studios and pressed at Record Industry. Turn it up and let the Lewis Taylor sound envelop you.

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.

The next chapter of the Natural Information Society is here. Since Time Is Gravity, credited to Natural Information Society Community Ensemble with Ari Brown, presents a newly expanded manifestation of acclaimed composer & multi-instrumentalist Joshua Abrams nearly 15 year, 7 albums &-counting flagship ensemble. Joining the core NIS of Abrams (guimbri & bass), Lisa Alvarado (harmonium) Mikel Patrick Avery (drums) & Jason Stein (bass clarinet) are Hamid Drake (percussion), Josh Berman & Ben Lamar Gay (cornets), Nick Mazzarella & Mai Sugimoto (alto saxophones & flute), Kara Bershad (harp) & Chicago living legend of the tenor saxophone Ari Brown. Recorded live to tape at Electrical Audio & The Graham Foundation, cover painting Vibratory Cartography: Nepantla, by Lisa Alvarado. 2xLP on Eremite USA, 2xLP & CD on Aguirre/Eremite Europe. Out 14-04.

Since first developing Natural Information Society in 2010, Joshua Abrams has been gradually expanding the group’s conceptual underpinnings, its musical references & the sheer number of the group’s members. Its music is, in a sense, an expansive form of minimalism, based in repeated & overlaid rhythmic patterns, ostinatos & modality. Its roots, its scale & its meaning become clearer in time. If time is gravity, it also allows us to carry more. Having begun as fundamentally a rhythm section with Abrams’ guimbri at its core, the version here can stretch to a tentet, including six horns.

Abrams has been expanding his minimalism gradually, but he has long understood a key to minimalism’s potential: the breadth of its roots in the late 1950s & early 1960s, ranging from the dissatisfaction of young European-stream composers with the limitations of serialism to the simultaneous dissatisfaction of jazz musicians with the dense harmonic vocabulary of bop & hard bop. The former began exploring rhythmic complexity & narrow tonal palates in place of harmonic abstraction (Steve Reich’s Drumming, Philip Glass’ Music with Changing Parts; perhaps above all Terry Riley’s In C & his late ‘60s all-night organ & loop concerts); the later reduced dense chord changes to scales (signally with Miles Davis' Kind of Blue, but rapidly expanding with John Coltrane’s vast project). In the 1950s the LP record opened the world with documentation of Asian & African musics, key influences on both minimalists & jazz musicians. If John Coltrane’s soprano saxophone suggested the keening shehnai of Bismillah Khan, the instrument was rapidly taken up by two key minimalists, LaMonte Young & Riley, similarly appreciative of its flexible intonation, the same thing that kept it out of big bands.

If the guimbri, the North African hide-covered lute that Abrams plays with NIS, involves a rich tradition of hypnotic healing music associated with the Gnawa people, Abrams’ music also touches on other musics as well — other depths, memories & healings, different drones, rhythms & modes. As the group expands on Since Time Is Gravity, he has made certain jazz traditions in the same stream more explicit as well. If there is a mystical & elastic quality involved in the experience of time, both in direction & duration, you will catch it here. The parts for the choir of winds expand on the roles of Abrams’ guimbri, Mikel Patrick Avery & Hamid Drake’s percussion & Lisa Alvarado’s harmonium: at times, the winds are almost looping in the tentet version, each hitting a repeating note in turn, at once drone & distinct inflection on temporal sequence. The brilliance of the work resides in Abrams’ compositions, the NIS’ intuitive execution & in Ari Brown’s singular embodiment of the great tenor saxophone tradition, including the oracular genius of Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis, & Yusef Lateef. The three pieces by the expanded NIS featuring Brown —the opening “Moontide Chorus” & “Is” & the ultimate “Gravity”— have an immediate impact, & togther might be considered a kind of concerto for tenor saxophone. Here Brown presses almost indistinguishably from composed melody to improvised speech, getting so close to language that he might have a text. Everything here is a sign. Note the tap of the Rhythm Ace that links “Moontide Chorus” to “Is”, the attentive heart always present, even when signed by a machine. There’s a link here to the methodologies & meanings of dub music & the linear & vertical collage of beats, textures & tongues: treated with reverence, a sample of a beat-box can be as soulful, as hypnotic, as a mbira or a tamboura. If those pieces with Brown are heard as a suspended concerto, the three embrace & enfold the other works, like the sepals of a flower. That placement will also touch on the mysteries of our perception of time.

Particularly in “Is”, but elsewhere as well, a phenomenon of transcendence arises in which time appears to be tripartite, at once moving backwards & forwards & standing still. This is an act of technical brilliance certainly, but also an illumination of music’s ability to represent temporal consciousness through polymetrics. This particular listener has only heard it before in a few places, including the horn shouts & bowed basses of Coltrane’s Africa, in moments of Charles Mingus’ The Black Saint & the Sinner Lady, in certain pieces where tapes were literally running backwards, & earlier still in Dizzy Gillespie’s Cubana Be, Cubana Bop, in which the composer George Russell & conguero Chano Pozo found a music that spoke at once in the voices of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring & the vestigial rites, rhythms & songs of the Yoruba language & Santeria religion of inland Cuba.

In Joshua Abrams’ compositions & the realization of them by the NIS, in the time of one’s close listening & memory thereof, distinctions between the “natural” & the “social”, the “quotidian” & the “transcendent” are erased, suspended or perhaps irrelevant. Consider two of the ensemble pieces, one named for nature, the other social science. In “Murmuration” the repeated wind figures of flute & alto saxophone combine with the interlocking patterns of harp, guimbri & frame drum (tar) to create a perfect moving stillness, not an imitation but a witness to the miracle of the starlings’ astonishing collective art, a surfeit of beauty that might be the ultimate defense tactic.

“Stigmergy” takes its name & concept from the Occupy movement’s Heather Marsh, who proposes a social system based on a cooperative rather than competitive models, one in which ideas are freely contributed & developed as ideas rather than an individual’s property. In its form, Abrams’ “Stigmergy” is the closes thing to traditional jazz, a series of accompanied solos by each of the wind players. However, the composed accompaniment is a radically collectivist notion: a repeated rhythmic figure, call it ostinato or riff, in which the different winds each play only a note or two of the figure, a concept both more collectivist & individualistic in its conception than any typical unison figure. It suggests another of the underlying recognitions that propel the Natural Information Society, the group as social organism, the teleology of hypnotic anarchy, all parts in place, functioning systematically, evolving & expressing itself, its nature & society, as a transformative organism.

George Lewis has described music as “a space for reflection on the human condition”. This suggests that, rather than a “distraction”, at least some music might serve as a distraction from distraction. It’s a focus, a clarity, a awareness, an external invitation to interiority, as if music itself is a model for form & contemplation, an organism contemplating for us or as us. If that is a possibility, & I am sure I have heard such musics, than this music is among them. How many of our rhythms, melodies & harmonies (cultural, historical, biological, psychic) might such music carry, translate & transform in the particulate ecstasy of our own murmuration? (Stuart Broomer, April 2022)

What’s Mu about? Mu is about everything: Songs about heartbreak and parting share the album with songs marvelling at the scale of the universe. Mu is a concept from Zen and Chan Buddhism that means: “nothingness” and also, “pure awareness.” The awareness at the source of all things. In Hannah’s words: “There is so much life in every moment. Endless patterns, algorithms and instances repeating and changing and adapting. Spiralling outwards from the source. What source? The source.” In search of the source, Hannah has composed and arranged an undefinable, cinematic album that leads the listener on a winding path through her imagination. Sonically as well as thematically, Mu is an album of extremes and lofty ambitions. Fragile and delicate vocal and violin textures contrast with crunchy noisescapes and brooding synthesizers. Hannah’s commanding voice shares the spotlight with a string section and is backed by spacious production featuring many acoustic instruments. Sonically, producer Nick Herrera has brought a reassuring chunkiness to this unplugged palette, in particular the head nodding drums that anchor Hannah’s celestial musings. Like a film soundtrack or a symphony Mu is best listened to and understood as a whole - it circles back to themes and refrains and re-examines them. Sometimes a song is a song, sometimes it’s a soundscape dreaming of a song. “When making this album, I had a specific concept for how I wanted the music to sound. I don’t mean in terms of genre… it was more of a visceral, sensory concept which I knew I could only realise by allowing myself to experiment and create simultaneously, believing in my rough ideas enough to grow them, to weave them into stories. I began allowing myself to enter and remain in a very heightened state of awareness, which is a state I have continued to pursue and learnt to enjoy ever since. I let my mind dissolve into blackness each day. From there the most wonderful colours can appear. I have decided to call the album “Mu” to signify the empty chasm I allowed to hold within me whilst these songs were born.”

"As I write these notes sitting on my balcony in July 2022, it has been more than 9 years since the release of my debut album and more than 11years since it was recorded, the time since has been a personally tumultuous period of twists and turns - retreat, reflection, realization, reassessment, therapy, triumph, trial and error - entangled in a decade-long creative block that had me questioning whether
I would ever be able to compose again and though I felt there was so much I wanted and needed to say, I felt I had lost my voice, or perhaps never had one in the first place. A constant knot had grown tighter and tighter within me over time, but I did not understand what had created it or how it might be undone. In 2018, shaken awake by the collision of two transients, I suddenly saw in a new light old
patterns whose familiar presences I realized I had felt for much of my life, but had until then never seen for what they were. Following a third, I finally found the humility to surrender, and as I began re- examining and confronting myself, I slowly started to discover new answers - and new questions to ask.

Then the Covid-19 pandemic happened, and the world stopped. Like so many of us caught in the new eerie calm, I retreated into inner spaces. I began revisiting sketches of ideas I had accumulated over the years, and finally, very, very slowly, new music started to come. " - Jussi Reijonen.

"Electrifying and deeply resonant, monumental and profoundly personal, Reijonen's five- movement suite is a beautifully crafted, remarkable journey of sound and emotion performed by a knockout nine-piece ensemble." - Monarch

"He's written one hell of a piece." - The Arts Fuse

"On this remarkable and ambitious new recording, Reijonen delivers an epic transcultural suite that feels as deeply personal as it is expansive and farreaching." - All About Jazz "a remarkable sophomore album" -The Boston Globe

"This is an album meticulously pulled together into a dense fabric of diverse musical threads. It merits repeated listening; with each fresh listen, the richness of Reijonen's intercultural vocabulary becomes more apparent." London Jazz News

"Even in our present jazz moment, when the art form is worldwide and vital, albums that come as complete surprises are relatively rare. Three seconds Kolme Toista is a stunner." Jazz Times

"Three seconds Kolme Toista is spellbinding from beginning to end, and full of virtuoso performances." All About Jazz

Hania Rani announces "On Giacometti" a tender meditation on the life and art of Alberto Giacometti and family. "On Giacometti" is a collection of beautiful recordings inspired by the renowned artist and family and features some of Rani's most profoundly delicate compositions to date. Invited by film director Susanna Fanzun, to score her forthcoming documentary on the legendary artist Alberto Giacometti, Hania Rani took herself to the Swiss mountains to compose in blissful isolation. As Rani explains eloquently below the compositions are based on improvised melodies, simple harmonies and structures and inspired by the silence of the mountains as Rani returns to her main instrument, the piano. The results are beguilingly reminiscent of her beloved debut album Esja, but with subtle extra layers of synthesiser, and on two tracks cello from friend and long-running collaborator Dobrawa Czocher.

'On Giacometti' is presented as a limited edition LP with bespoke packaging featuring Les Naturals - Chocolat (Gmund) sustainable recycled paperboard made from 100 % recovered paper with Foil Artwork by Łukasz Pałczyński. Plus Double sided printed insert and download code inside.

Hania Rani "On Giacometti":
‘When I was asked to compose a soundtrack for a movie about the family of Giacometti I didn't think twice.

Alberto Giacometti, a Swiss artist, who worked mainly as painter and sculptor has been one of my favourite artists for a long time. His individual style, aesthetics and the character of his creative process is still fascinating to me on many levels, so being able to dive even deeper into his universe, getting to know not only him but also his family was an opportunity that I couldn't miss. Little did I know how far this "yes" will take me - not only mentally and on a creative level but also physically. Thanks to the director of the documentary - Susanna Fanzun and by a stroke of luck and a couple of extra questions I decided to move for a couple of months to the Swiss mountains, not far away from the place where Giacometti was born and where the place he called home was, although he didn't live there. Susanna showed me a place close to her hometown where I could rent a studio and work on the soundtrack but also for my other projects. It was the middle of a winter, the area was full of ice and snow, just like only it can happen still in the mountains. The residency house was located in a valley surrounded by high mountains and the sun in the winter season was not coming up for too long during the day. I remember she told me about it and added "that not everyone is feeling well there, but I hope you will". I did.

Being almost separated from reality, the city and its entertainments, people rushing and everything that usually takes my attention I could fully concentrate on the music and soundtrack, spending most of the day with my own thoughts and having enough space to experiment and be free in a creative process. This soundtrack would probably be a very different thing if composed in a place that I am usually living in. I took this a chance to explore something new about myself as a composer and human being, taking the opposite direction that I would usually choose for myself.

The album "On Giacometti" includes the excerpts from the soundtrack, the most representative tracks and those which became a strong voice itself. Based a lot on improvised melodies, simple harmonies, structures and silence it reminds me of my debut album "Esja" which was partly composed and recorded in another chilly place - Iceland. All these components, both mental and physical, guided me back to my main instrument - piano, which I tried to redefine again with a language of the space that I was working in. The space is usually the key element that gives me the answer about the arrangement or character of the project. Space seems to be the first to appear and music is the invisible power which is changing its angels.’ Living surrounded by mountains makes you change the perspective and understanding of scale as Alberto Giacometti once famously wrote in a letter: It gives an impression that things that are actually far away, like mountains, are close and the other ones that are not so far away, like people, seem small, watched from a distance. You feel like touching the mountain top with your finger could be as easy as touching the tip of your nose. The snow additionally protects the whole area from the noise, each sound lands softly on the ground accompanied by echoes of immeasurable space. Each scratch or whisper is becoming an autonomic entity, opening the gate to the world of ghosts and lost spirits. It's easy to think that time stands still there, while nothing is moving and changing at the first sight. But the ubiquitous ice and snow reveal the passage of time, transforming frozen paysage into the wild stream of water - each day, hour and second. Melting and vanishing, clearing the space from white powder and noise consuming surface. Invisible process for a one night traveller, becomes painfully real for longer time settlers. Time flows with each new wave of sound coming through the river, reminding us that we are part of the cycle, which endlessly repeats itself.

History has proven that when the world is in flames, it ignites the empathetic artists to siren their words, music, and rhythm, to blanket our society"s fury and nurse scorched souls. The seemingly endless years of pandemic lockdown and social distancing, coupled with the turbulent plague of civil unrest and racial injustice, called on Vintage Trouble to step into their battle wear. Like so often before, they have spun records to drop onto the fighting grounds, with the intent to freeze the frame long enough to momentarily halt the warring world. And while at ease, we can freely choose to think before we strike or decide to retreat, rather than thoughtlessly charge into repeating history. This collection of heavy hymns is from the heart, and it provides a necessary rise to our ever reckoning.

Murmer is the long-standing project for Estonian field recordist and composer Patrick McGinley, and in Tether, The Helen Scarsdale Agency welcomes Murmer back to our roster, over a decade since he graced us with his last production for the Agency. His field recordings often center upon the amplification and activation of resonance from a particular space, landscape, or object. Such sounds emerge from a condition as begin fleeting, inconsequential, or ephemeral and explode into that which alien, sublime, and profound. Here lies the tremendous prowess of the contact microphone, as wielded by an accomplished musician! The source material cited by McGinley includes cables, fences, wires, and vents.

There is a heft to many of these sounds as heard throughout all of "Taevast" with deep throbbing pulsations from arctic wind generating subharmonic patterns upon thick high-tension wires. Elsewhere the subtle dissonance from a rasping cooling fan blooms into a brooding ambience that is sublimely rich in its metallic timbres and complex reverberations. McGingley has long been an exemplary artist in the field of phonography even as he is less prolific than others. On Tether, he has produced a majestic if occasionally foreboding work on par with the mythic wire recordings of Alan Lamb, Jacob Kirkegaard's haunted resonance from Chernobyl, and much of the Touch catalogue for that matter!

Patrick McGingley on Tether:

In 2006, I made a collection of recordings at a mobile phone mast in Mooste, southeast Estonia. It is a guyed tower, 80 meters tall, affixed to 3 support points with heavy cables. I attached my self-made contact microphones to these cables with poster tack, and spent many hours over several weeks recording the various wind and weather variances (it was summer), and the birds that passed or settled on the tower or cables. This was one of my first visits to estonia, where i now live, and one of the things that marked me about that experience was the access: the tower had no fences or protections around it (I have not been back there recently to answer my own question of whether or not this is still the case); it stands in the middle of a field of tall grass along a dirt road in the countryside, just out of view of the few nearby houses, and during all the hours I spent there I was never disturbed or shooed away.

For more than 16 years, I have been thinking about this location and these recordings, and have made several attempts to work with them. I have used the sounds in installations a handful of times, and uploaded one short edit to the Aporee soundmaps, but have never managed to use them in any composed work. They always seemed too big for any structure I could provide them, whether I left them on their own, or partnered them with other sounds. Finally, in 2019, after putting them down and picking them up again repeatedly over so many years, they seemed to allow me in, although it took me another few years before they were happy with what I could offer. They stand now not quite alone - the majority of the layered sounds in the piece come from various edits of those cable recordings, but I added two other contrasting sounds, related to one another: one is snowflakes landing delicately on a plastic cakebox with microphones inside it, and the other is a frosted field of grass thawing on a lightly warming autumn morning (both these recordings can also be heard on their own on the Aporee maps).

Coming back to those cables brought to mind so many other wind-driven sounds that I had spent time with and recorded, but never returned to, that I began digging through my archives looking for them. I ended up with a pool of sounds from resonant wires, cables, fences, poles, fans, and vents, which became the basis for the 2nd work on this release. One of these sounds is among the first sounds I ever recorded, possibly within a month or so of buying my first microphone and minidisc recorder: the rhythmic fan of a beer cooler in a pub where I worked in North London in 1999. Other sounds in the piece include another phone tower, recorded on the northern coast of France in 2008, a telephone pole recorded in the Beaujolais region in 2010, the drone of ventilator fans at a factory in Tezno, Slovenia in 2012, an electric sheep fence in the Scottish borders in 2013, a hanging wire in a storage space in Rovaniemi, Finland in 2016, and, with no relation to cables or wind at all, calcium deposits being cleaned from the inside of an electric kettle here in Estonia in 2019.

I offer these two new pieces as my first solo publication since 2018, the first release on a physical medium since 2016. No one has ever accused me of working too fast, or being too prolific. I have a need, it seems, to leave a physical space of time around my work, before I can consider it 'finished'. Perhaps it is a simple need to forget how I did something, or that I did something; perhaps I have a need to be able to hear a work as a first-time listener would, before I can consider it ready for such an encounter. In some part of my mind I have to forget it before I can let it go. Well, I've just about forgotten that London beer cooler now, and that walk in the Beaujolais (with my father, who has since passed away), and that sheep fence next to our campsite in the borders, and that kettle that is now leaky. So I guess it's time.

Ed Sheeran is set to release his new album ‘-‘ (Subtract) - the last in his decade-spanning mathematical album era - on 5 May 2023 through Asylum/Atlantic on vinyl, cassette and CD. An album that revisits Ed’s singer/songwriter roots, and one that was written against a backdrop of personal grief and hope, ‘-’ (Subtract) presents one of the biggest stars on the planet at his most vulnerable and honest.
In Ed’s own words - “I had been working on Subtract for a decade, trying to sculpt the perfect acoustic album, writing and recording hundreds of songs with a clear vision of what I thought it should be. Then at the start of 2022, a series of events changed my life, my mental health, and ultimately the way I viewed music and art.
Writing songs is my therapy. It helps me make sense of my feelings. I wrote without thought of what the songs would be, I just wrote whatever tumbled out. And in just over a week, I replaced a decade’s worth of work with my deepest darkest thoughts.

Within the space of a month, my pregnant wife got told she had a tumour, with no route to treatment until after the birth. My best friend Jamal, a brother to me, died suddenly and I found myself standing in court defending my integrity and career as a songwriter. I was spiralling through fear, depression and anxiety.
I felt like I was drowning, head below the surface, looking up but not being able to break through for air.

As an artist I didn’t feel like I could credibly put a body of work into the world that didn’t accurately represent where I am and how I need to express myself at this point in my life. This album is purely that. It’s opening the trapdoor into my soul. For the first time I’m not trying to craft an album people will like, I’m merely putting something out that’s honest and true to where I am in my adult life.

This is last February’s diary entry and my way of making sense of it. This is Subtract.”
Since he first learnt ‘Layla’ by Eric Clapton on guitar at the age of 12-years-old, Sheeran’s love of the singer/songwriter began. Growing up with the likes of Damian Rice, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan playing on repeat in his parents’ house – artists that his dad, John, introduced him to – ‘-‘was always on Ed’s horizon. Yet as the songs and writing process took on a whole new meaning and direction after a series of hard-hitting events impacted Ed’s world in 2022, one thing that remained untouched was his strong desire to make a record anchored in his love of singer/songwriter compositions. And now, as he gears-up for the release of his most soul-baring work to date, ‘-‘ serves as a timely reminder for why Sheeran remains one of the most gifted lyricists of his generation; an artist who breaks down his own experiences for fans to seek comfort and belonging.
‘-‘ is the result of Sheeran pushing the boundaries of his songcraft, as he delivers the most profound songwriting of his career. Teaming-up with Aaron Dessner (The National) on writing and production after the pair joined forces following an introduction from mutual friend Taylor Swift, Ed and Aaron began crafting the album in February last year. Writing over 30 songs during their month-long studio stint, the album’s fourteen tracks are seamlessly tied together by exquisite production from paired back, folk-leaning textures to bolder, full-band/orchestral arrangements.
Ed Sheeran burst onto the UK music scene in 2011 with his debut album ‘+’. Rapidly establishing himself as a history-making artist, he followed with ‘x’, ‘÷’, ‘No.6 Collaborations Project’ and ‘=’ - a catalogue that has seen Sheeran become one of the world’s biggest musical success stories of the 21st century.

Ed Sheeran is set to release his new album ‘-‘ (Subtract) - the last in his decade-spanning mathematical album era - on 5 May 2023 through Asylum/Atlantic on vinyl, cassette and CD. An album that revisits Ed’s singer/songwriter roots, and one that was written against a backdrop of personal grief and hope, ‘-’ (Subtract) presents one of the biggest stars on the planet at his most vulnerable and honest.
In Ed’s own words - “I had been working on Subtract for a decade, trying to sculpt the perfect acoustic album, writing and recording hundreds of songs with a clear vision of what I thought it should be. Then at the start of 2022, a series of events changed my life, my mental health, and ultimately the way I viewed music and art.
Writing songs is my therapy. It helps me make sense of my feelings. I wrote without thought of what the songs would be, I just wrote whatever tumbled out. And in just over a week, I replaced a decade’s worth of work with my deepest darkest thoughts.

Within the space of a month, my pregnant wife got told she had a tumour, with no route to treatment until after the birth. My best friend Jamal, a brother to me, died suddenly and I found myself standing in court defending my integrity and career as a songwriter. I was spiralling through fear, depression and anxiety.
I felt like I was drowning, head below the surface, looking up but not being able to break through for air.

As an artist I didn’t feel like I could credibly put a body of work into the world that didn’t accurately represent where I am and how I need to express myself at this point in my life. This album is purely that. It’s opening the trapdoor into my soul. For the first time I’m not trying to craft an album people will like, I’m merely putting something out that’s honest and true to where I am in my adult life.

This is last February’s diary entry and my way of making sense of it. This is Subtract.”
Since he first learnt ‘Layla’ by Eric Clapton on guitar at the age of 12-years-old, Sheeran’s love of the singer/songwriter began. Growing up with the likes of Damian Rice, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Dylan playing on repeat in his parents’ house – artists that his dad, John, introduced him to – ‘-‘was always on Ed’s horizon. Yet as the songs and writing process took on a whole new meaning and direction after a series of hard-hitting events impacted Ed’s world in 2022, one thing that remained untouched was his strong desire to make a record anchored in his love of singer/songwriter compositions. And now, as he gears-up for the release of his most soul-baring work to date, ‘-‘ serves as a timely reminder for why Sheeran remains one of the most gifted lyricists of his generation; an artist who breaks down his own experiences for fans to seek comfort and belonging.
‘-‘ is the result of Sheeran pushing the boundaries of his songcraft, as he delivers the most profound songwriting of his career. Teaming-up with Aaron Dessner (The National) on writing and production after the pair joined forces following an introduction from mutual friend Taylor Swift, Ed and Aaron began crafting the album in February last year. Writing over 30 songs during their month-long studio stint, the album’s fourteen tracks are seamlessly tied together by exquisite production from paired back, folk-leaning textures to bolder, full-band/orchestral arrangements.
Ed Sheeran burst onto the UK music scene in 2011 with his debut album ‘+’. Rapidly establishing himself as a history-making artist, he followed with ‘x’, ‘÷’, ‘No.6 Collaborations Project’ and ‘=’ - a catalogue that has seen Sheeran become one of the world’s biggest musical success stories of the 21st century.

"ARCHETYPES COLLIDE demand repeated listening, mixing everything from Linkin Park and Bring Me The Horizon to The Chainsmokers, and Stranger Things-style retro synths, into a unique musical identity. A collection of singles and EPs drew a devoted fanbase and the attention of Oshie Bichar, bassist for Beartooth. Bichar enlisted his management, and the pair took Archetypes Collide under their wing. Soon after, SiriusXM's Octane got behind songs like ""Your Misery,"" ""Becoming What I Hate,"" and ""Above It All."" The band appeared on major festivals like Aftershock, Louder Than Life, and Welcome To Rockville, toured with genre giants The Amity Affliction, and crafted an ambitious self-titled debut album for Fearless Records. Archetypes Collide spent several weeks in the first part of 2022 making their inaugural full-length, with a super team surrounding them to execute their vision. Bichar produced alongside Nick Ingram (Dayseeker, Convictions, Hawthorne Heights) at Capital House Studio in Ohio. Additional production came from Jon Eberhard (Skillet, I Prevail, Until I Wake); The Plot In You frontman Landon Tewers lent a creative hand as well. The resulting album, mixed by Jeff Dunne (Ice Nine Kills, Wage War, Make Them Suffer), captures the vibrant spirit of the 2010s-era Warped Tour with a postmodern edge. It's a diverse but singular mission statement, brimming with authenticity and hope. ARCHETYPES COLLIDE aren't bound by preconceived notions or limitations. As single Kyle Pastor explains simply: ""Why not take every shot, in every direction, under the umbrella of hard rock and metal? "

Never one to pull inventive punches, Left Coast electronic music producer Dave Aju reassembled this notorious cast of characters for a remarkably fitting album package made during one of the most strange times our world has ever faced in the throes of the COVID-19 pandemic. While things were essentially shutdown, reopened, cycle-repeat worldwide, and every other species in mother nature's kingdom temporarily rejoiced while humans remained still in their caves, Aju and The Invisible Art Trio, his formidable if not-seen-in-a-minute musical team behind such underground anthems as "Be Like the Sun", went to work in the final days of the glorious G-Son studios in Atwater Village LA to record this LP.

Indeed, the same four/five walls and vocal booth that saw the Beastie's iconic Check Your Head and Hello Nasty come to life, became the birthplace of Glossolalia, Aju's fifth studio album and appropriately impressive seven-song set. As always, myriad musical styles and influences are strung together and boldly combined here, to the degree that drawing comparisons or attempting genre references feels futile. There are, however, clear visceral expressions of political provocation, hope and anger, fear and joy laid over twisted yet dedicated grooves in a lockdown era where Aju's imaginary collective dance floor feels in the temporary absence thereof and bizarro sixth-world unification strategy of recording every song's lyrics in complete non-languages aka total gibberish, feels right at home. Even the vocal guests join in the literal chant here, granting us diverse spell-casting and sensual nonsensical lyrical lines over tech-funk mother lodes, before closing the otherworldly proceedings with a powerful grand finale tribute to the US of A's proud boys-in-blue in the wake of George Floyd's very public assassination.

Equal parts timely anti-establishment and uplifting call-to-action, Glossolalia serves as a decidedly coarse yet crucial reminder of the possibilities in collaborative and devoted noise-making, booty-shaking, and alternative world-building during greater global disarray - beyond stylistic, nationalistic, and linguistic dividing lines. An overtly universal and unifying message liberating us from any fixed cultural identities and thus differences, to instead just focus on how the music delivers and we physically respond, together, as the foundation. Perhaps also an inspired response to the talking heads in every corner of the world's media, spewing useless and politically-tainted mouth data at us amidst these turbulent times.

11th album by the one-of-a-kind collective: psychedelia and free form jazz (not jazz) trigger a sophisticated excursion into weird textures with drastic turns. Dislocated dense music full of secret connections!

Kammerflimmer Kollektief – "Schemen"

Before reason prevails, invoked by those who want everything to remain as it is, Kammerflimmer Kollektief disrupts the established supply chains of sound. It seeks more interesting ways to assemble them. Trusting in this, because of the fact that every sound that still comes out of a guitar, a bass, a harmonium, drums and electronic devices has already been taken into the common mangle of meaning anyway. Enough of all that. Here, nothing is explained. Here we speak in schemes. Polished and jerky.

The images that Kammerflimmer Kollektief conjures up therefore happen not in the focus of consciousness, but rather in its outer realms. In those to which one does not give one's full attention at the moment, but which are nevertheless perceived. For example, when a leaf falls from the ground back up to the tree in the corner of your eye, and for an instant you think this is possible, before you realize it was a small bird flying into the tree; it is in just such irritating moments between perception and realization that the art of the Kollektief also unfolds. On "Schemen", familiar fragments float gently around their core – a Fender Rhodes tone, a bass figure, a guitar motif, a masterful drum shuffle, a moment of icy stasis borrowed from the harmonium playing of Christa 'Nico' Päffgen. Triggering brief associations, they slowly rush off in other directions through free jazz-informed editing work, whereupon such zones can also arise in which perception has a few tricks ready and earlier experience suddenly breaks into the now in a completely different way. Half suspected, half seen.

Half-music like Can from Cologne – also masters of improvised editing – sometimes produced a few decades ago in their in-between moments. The first minutes of "Future Days" for example, which fade in gently, sketch a barely graspable figure emerging from all directions of the room. Kammerflimmer Kollektief also engages in similarly open moments of development. Loosely, it eludes the first formative impressions, keeping itself ready for moments that do not follow any logic of appointment. This looseness in handling makes Kammerflimmer Kollektief so fluidly audible, even when dissonant peaks and free playing arise. What Karlheinz Stockhausen is to Can's understanding of composition, the recordings of The Cocoon are to Kammerflimmer Kollektief. The Cocoon, a meeting of garage psychedelics from the Hannover area with free jazzers from the Galaxie Dream Band, whose album "While The Recording Engineer Sleeps", recorded in 1985 in unguarded moments, operates in a very similar way with decentralized perceptual ambivalences and only appeared more or less secretly four years later on Wilhelm Reich Schallspeicher. Other traces of "Schemen" lead to the debut album of Quicksilver Messenger Service. The guitars of Gary Duncan and John Cipollina, which refer to themselves in an unforced manner, are instructions to let go. They don't want to be traced in every note as a solo, but they give their music a sense that the essential takes place off center, in the mutual and intuitive gift of loving attentions. Consciousness-free.

Loving turns like the little guitar phrase that, like a kind of leitmotif, is repeatedly ghosting more or less unchanged through all of the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums. A Coricidin induced, very catchy slide idea filtered out of ancient Æther, which – who knows – maybe even centuries ago found its way from somewhere to America – the old, the eerie – and from there wafted on through the ages to southern Germany, to a smoky studio in the Upper Rhine lowlands. A memory of which even the memory no longer knows what it once reminded. Unsaid, then forgotten.

In Kammerflimmer Kollektief you will also find a friend of slowly building, unhurried music, which probably would have been appreciated by the old Franz Mesmer, who 200 years ago, after tranquilizing treatments, sometimes used to play for his patients ambient melodies on the enormous glass harmonica. However, in order not to surrender completely to the flow of one's own life energy, as Mesmer had in mind with his therapies, Kammerflimmer Kollektief occasionally adds hectic tensions, gently embraced by the droning of a sine wave generator, as if a trance could briefly refesh. This old analog sine wave generator is new in the Kammerflimmer assortment of sounds. So, the art of the Kollektief likes to dock occasionally in modern times, yet with the past in mind. Mental states begin to flicker between imagination and certainty, between culture-bound art expression and coincidences: A cawing and scraping can always just be a cawing and scraping with Kammerflimmer Kollektief, the way Andy Warhol's mushroom eater just eats a mushroom.

Heike Aumüller's cover works, which illustrate all the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums, additionally act as amplifiers of unexplained refractions. Her style consists of eye-corner art that remains so, even when looked at directly. Her shots remain disquieting because they do not jolt themselves into a reassuring order, even in retrospect. Rather than evading the fear that arises when looking at them by trying to impose some irrational rhyme or reason, that fear must simply be endured. This strategy of endurance is equally applicable to the music. The trick is to let parts be parts without compulsively seeking delusional patterns that lull us into a false sense of security and in doing so, possibly delude ourselves. In this context, freedom means not having to anxiously attach a fantasized superior meaning to everything. "Schemen" has an conspiracy disintegrating effect.


b A2 Zweites Kapitel (ruckartig) [feat. Heike Aumüller]

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Down On Darkened Meetings, the first solo release on the label from the quietly prolific Giuseppe Ielasi. Recorded at Ielasi’s studio in Monza outside of Milan over two days in February 2022, the seven pieces presented here continue the renewed exploration of the guitar that marks much of his solo work over the last few years. Emerging in the late 1990s as an improviser working primarily with prepared acoustic and electric guitars, the instrument became less prominent in his work over the next decade, ceding to loop-based constructs that would eventually split into abstracted takes on club music and hip-hop (including his work as Inventing Masks), on the one hand, and spectral electroacoustic explorations (such as the stunning triple disc 3 pauses), on the other. Returning to the guitar in recent years, he has approached the instrument as a source of shimmering metallic glissandi (Five Wooden Frames) or as the vehicle of elegiac double-tracked lines that feel almost like Frisell playing Feldman (The Return). Here the focus is on electric guitar filtered, looped, and splayed out into fields of irregular echoes through a bank of pedals. Like many of Ielasi’s releases, Down On Darkened Meetings is structured as a set of short untitled pieces (here ranging between two and six minutes in length) that single-mindedly explore a single instrument or source throughout. The opening track immediately introduced the distinctive timbral world of fizzing, heavily filtered tones, chiming harmonics, and woozy looping bass figures inhabited throughout. At points it becomes near impossible to trace these sounds to the strings of an electric guitar; at others, as on the final two pieces, the instrument is unmistakable, as Ielasi builds up his shifting loops from snatches of almost unintentional sounding half-playing that give these closing tracks a hushed, private atmosphere reminiscent of Tolerance’s Anonym. While the repeating chords and hanging melodic figures present on many tracks call to mind earlier Ielasi classics like Gesine and Untitled, here the music feels less meticulously constructed than played: Ielasi’s lyrical guitar lines obscured by a battery of effects at times come across like a dilated take on the outer-fringe fretwork of improvisers like Henry Kaiser and Raymond Boni, and the muddy, asynchronous fields of pops and hiss at times wander into areas reminiscent of the hand-played dub techno of Vladislav Delay’s Multila. Like much of Ielasi’s work in recent years, these seven pieces perform a delicate balancing act: between abstraction and immediacy, austerity and abundance. Imbued with Ielasi’s distinctive lightness of touch, considered approach to pacing, and subtly psychedelic approach to the stereo field, Down on Darkened Meetings is a major new work from a quiet master of contemporary experimental music.

Liberation is the latest evolution by David West, a dedicated underground dweller and traveler with his groups Rat Columns and Rank/Xerox and previously spotted in Lace Curtain and Total Control. Many familiar elements of West's songwriting creep out from the speakers this time around, albeit in a sonically more adventurous and personal manner. Swathed in analogue and FM synths, pinned down by near-funk drum machines, and with a vision expanded into the past and future. While in previous incarnations, West's alienated and fragile vocal has battled with jangling guitars and distortion, Liberation sets free his woes and ruminations into space. Taking inspiration from the heyday of Mute Records, the beginnings of electronic dance music's rudimentary sampling, broken and sound art, Liberation's debut LP is 10 songs of the road, about the nameless ghosts on the highway, accidental lovers, the alienation of the stranger in a strange land, the unbearable weight of freedom.
Beginning with a curveball, Liberation's first vocal sets out the position of the forever-cuckold, the sad lover hanging on: Looking For A Lover combines a Roland 707's loping mid-tempo with creeped-out synth lines as West intones his intentions close to the ear. Continuing in a more baroque manner, Move Me makes astounding use of string samples and space, with esteemed engineer Mikey Young's (Total Control / Eddy Current Suppression Ring) production prowess making for a distilled yet inviting loneliness. Forget is the night-drive centerpiece of the album, a 7 minute that erupts into a nihilistic sub-disco darkness. A constant theme of Liberation is the friction between West's characters: a frustrated love in victim-status paired with a menacing intent. The adorable, fragile stalker in the moonlight, illuminated by Whatever You Want, a
subjugated protagonist offering they have while the city burns. The brightest pop moment of the album has this in abundance: Cold And Blue, a classic synth pop jam to be played on repeat til the end of time, like New Order played by one man in his bedroom, with no drugs for a cushion, coming down the stairs, she looks like a perfect fear and Im a monument to your existence. But West has moments of touching sincerity that speak direct to the listener, as in album highlight Leaves Falling; a sparse string arrangement frames his vocal, "why do I keep falling for you I must just really like to be alone." Liberation is the freedom from attachments, about how sometimes they're what you want most.

The duo WILDES from the south of Germany, consisting of Jana Pantha and Jenny Tulipa, presents a musical mix of electro-synth-pop, post-punk and dark disco influences. After the release of their first EP “RAWWR” in 2021, their debut album entitled “KLISCHEE” will be released on 3 February 2023. Released via the Kommando 84 label, the album features 11 songs and a musical re-interpretation of German-language Neue Deutsche Welle sounds. The songs combine spoken word passages in which the singers combine a certain irony with word-playful rhymes. In addition to world-political, social issues, the songs revolve around the complexity of the new romance in love - between cosmos and stereo. The strong and experimentally avant-garde lyrics accompany the danceable pulse of the drum computer, melodic synth waves and the shimmering solos of the lead guitar.

The album “Klischee” begins with an electro-pop track that combines consistent grooves with atmo- spheric sound arrangements and a lead guitar that accompanies our journey to the moon. With the chorus’ high-pitched words, „Konsum - leg mich auf den Moon“ (“Consumption - put me on the Moon”), WILDES dryly yet humorously allude to a society that couldn’t fly “higher”.

The following cheeky song Leger in Schwarz combines impeccable post punk with influences from the NNDW scene. A short love story led by the electronic beat of the synthesizer makes the hearts of the night beat faster. With casual reduction, a guitar riff leads through the song. The guitar solo finally rounds off the plea about the longing for a good flirt.

Italo disco shimmers and pulsates on the driving song Capri. With lyrics like “Pack the boats - Vai a bordo”, Capri is a homage to the tried and tested Italo feeling with a cappucino on the terrazza, or indeed on the yacht with a view of the rocky walls of the island. An electric charge of sequencers and synth tracks acts here as a lightness of being in contrast to the porosity of the rock.

An electrifying electric guitar solo kicks off the fourth track with a mysterious invitation to Steig ein translated, get in. Hypnotised by the lights of the road, dazzled in the side mirror, a clearly repeating rhythm leads into the chorus and through the coming verses. English spoken-word lyrics add to the stoicism of the German language. The song’s great power ends with the line Lost in the dark, holding open the finale of the “Night Drive” encounter.

Digital and stereo on all channels, the distinctly tight and robust rhythm sounds in the song Apparat. A clear and simple synth melody is heard as a contrast and the electric bass gives the balance of the machine at points. Hiddenly, WILDES points here to the superior power that can control human action beyond all limits. A piece as a laudation to all the science fiction novels that play with the switching of the individual parts.

Side One of the vinyl is finalised by a song called La Grande Bellezza that motivates to dance and sing along. The punky pop craft lives through the recurring beat of the rhythm guitar. Here the focus is on the woman in all her facets. The great beauty, una donna, who can do everything as well as wanting everything and nothing...a strong woman who, however, also staggers and wants to jump off the cliff. Clearly and distinctly, the musical accompaniment of the drum machine and the accompanying synth melody reflect hidden parallel worlds and the ambiguity of character - of life? We get a desire for more and turn the round record.

The B side starts with a powerful guitar riff, complemented by a catchy and strong bassline that runs through the song. In this work, WILDES provocatively describes the West’s lust for the much-cov- eted Schwarzes Gold black gold. The song is reminiscent of the works of the band D.A.F. and thus ties in with the electronic punk sound spate.

The driving guitar riff joins in with the reduced synth bass sequence - the electro-pop song with the title Hitze (Heat) came onto the digital music market as the first single from the LP in the summer of 2022. Pulsatingly, the drum computer lets the beats vibrate to the rhythm of heated air. The duo po- etically describes heat with supercooled voices, a clarity in the sky that makes everything flow, that makes the breath dry. The work ends with a melodic synth solo.

Ich lad dich ein, I invite you - we have all said or heard this sentence before. A chance meeting of two people later leads to the altar in love. A far-reaching question that more or less arises in many love relationships at some point “Do you dare?” positions itself in lyrical contrast to the simple ques- tion in the refrain “Do you need sugar?”. WILDES plays with laconic poetry and, full of irony, makes the listeners think about living together. Krautrock contours are skilfully used in this piece. Reduced to the essentials, the chorus immediately sticks in the ear. A cheerful mix of steel drums and infec- tious solo.

Toccami - touch me! We sit on padded leather chairs - “you’re a rocket! Peng Puff Peng” - this song by the band WILDES joins experimental art-punk-pop, electronically with flowing synth waves we take off immediately. Melodically sung, lyrical layers of lyrics dance loosely light and gracefully in the ears of the viewer. The rhythmic beat visualises the feeling of floating in a spaceship. It’s love in the universe - “I love you, my darling” sounds tipsy in the beat-heavy disco refrain.

Hypnotically, WILDES launches into the final song of the entire LP. The title Zone takes us on a journey through time. Inspired by the film Stalker, we find ourselves in a science fiction setting that couldn’t be more present in today’s European events. The musicality of the electric guitar riffs ac- companied by simple new wave drums drives the listener into unknown realms.

Repetition and electronic synth sounds play a compositional role alongside rocking guitar riffs like their forerunners in the NDW scene. Lyrically, each song varies between pop-romantic and politically critical passages. Listeners start pondering about hedonistic life and its consequences. Sometimes it feels like listening to a Tarantino soundtrack in German, other times it feels like listening to an 80s track by a James Bond. Science fiction fantasies and reality add up in dadaistic theatricality to spir- ited synthpunk of the New German Wave from the South. Discoid beats and driving drums in digital are included.