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On “Cold Sweat,” James Brown famously called to “give the drummer some.” In 1974, Philadelphia vibraphonist Khan Jamal called to Give the Vibes Some, with superb results. Pianist and composer Jef Gilson’s PALM label gave Jamal the platform he needed to deliver a thorough exploration of contemporary vibraphone. After launching PALM in 1973, Gilson quickly demonstrated that he would only produce records not found anywhere else. Give the Vibes Some, PALM number 10, was another confirmation of this guiding principle.



Raised and based in Philadelphia, Khan Jamal took up the vibes in 1968, after two years in the army during which he was stationed in France and Germany. Decisively drawn to the instrument by the work of the Modern Jazz Quartet’s Milt Jackson, Jamal studied under Philadelphia vibraphone legend Bill Lewis and soon made his debuts in the local underground.



Early in 1972, Jamal made his first recording, with the Sounds of Liberation. The band attempted an original fusion of conga-heavy grooves with avant-garde jazz soloing. Saxophonist Byard Lancaster, an important figure in Jamal’s development, contributed much of the solo work. Later in 1972, Jamal made his leader debut with Drum Dance to the Motherland, a reverb-drenched, never-to-be-replicated experiment with live sound processing. Both albums appeared on the tiny musician-run Dogtown label.



“We couldn’t get no play from nowhere. No gigs or recording sessions or anything. So I took off for Paris,” Jamal recalled in a Cadence interview with Ken Weiss. “Within a few weeks, I had a few articles and I did a record date. It didn’t make me feel good about America.” That was in 1974, while Byard Lancaster was recording the music gathered on Souffle Continu’s recent The Complete PALM Recordings, 1973-1974.



Jamal’s record date delivered Give the Vibes Some. At its core, it was an exploratory solo vibraphone album, even if two tracks added (through technological resourcefulness?) a très célèbre French drummer very much into Elvin Jones appearing under pseudonym for contractual reasons. Another track, for which Jamal switched to the vibes’s wooden ancestor, the marimba, added young Texan trumpeter Clint Jackson III. The most notable article published on Jamal during this stay in France was a Jazz Magazine interview. Jamal’s last word there were “The Creator has a master plan/drum dance to the motherland.” “Give the vibes some” could be added to this programmatic statement.

For his last solo record ‘Through a Room’, Bill Nace shifted his usual saturated guitar sound and added tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, bird calls and the mysterious Japanese taishōgoto. Setting up for the final night of his three day residency at OTO with only the taishōgoto soundchecked, Nace hoped that Parker would arrive with his small soprano as its opposite. “I’ve been interested in state change, you know, playing until there’s a shift in time.” Known for his development of multiphonics to produce a constantly shifting pattern, Evan Parker has evolved an instantly recognizable sound - his work the soprano most distinct. Happily, it was the soprano Evan brought with him and as soon as the two start to play they entwine - taking off in a double helix of keys and reed primed for endless reconfiguration. Space warps under the velocity of playing, the pitch rising unrelentingly. It felt like unending lift off in the room, sheer energy until the last note makes remember your feet have been on the floor the whole time. Total time bending shredding.

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"They had never played together before. They had never even met each other before this springtime 2024 concert at London’s Café Oto.

Evan Parker, circular breathing maestro of the saxophone, a legend in the universe that is Free Improvisation since the late 1960s and Bill Nace, one of the most intriguing experimental “noise” guitarists of the 1990s/2000s underground scene.

For those of us who have been enamored by the live and documented work of both these gents, this Café Oto duo was a must-hear event. It could have gone anywhere musically and that would have been totally fine. Particularly with Evan having a history of being thrown into a variety of challenging collaborations throughout his career, employing the learned elegance of trust in his own sensitivity to listening, responding, leading, following, sparring, intertwining, dialoguing, creating in the instant and, essentially, dignifying the non-hierarchical grace of chance.

The aesthetics of socialist consideration in Evan Parker’s playing, in his community of expanded and personal technique, for a younger player such as Bill Nace, strikes an exemplary model. This notion of respect would be entirely the reason Nace, when offered a residency at the most critical “new music” room in England, would request to play in duo with Parker.

Bill Nace came to prominence mostly during the apex of experimental music activity in and around Western Massachusetts in the early days of the aughts, with a focus on visual art and free improvisation guitar action. He could be found in the daytime hours, his head hanging down over a notepad, penning fine-tuned illustrations and abstract line drawings, while in the evenings he’d be attending any number of basement noise gigs, many of which he’d be participating in. His guitar style came across as being informed as much as by the physicality of his writing utensils in friction to the page as it was to his hearing and redefining of radical recordings ranging anywhere from the Black Unity Group to Black Flag.

Utilizing various metal files and other small cylindrical objects Bill would allow his guitar and amplifier to be in tandem with the improvisatory movements of his body as the instrument balanced, intentionally and, at times, precariously, upon his lap. The performances came across thrilling and daring and they would be mostly in the context of venues nothing more than a low-ceilinged damp and dank New England basement, a clutch of people hanging onto rusty pipes or sitting up on dilapidated washer/dryer machines, the shards of Bill’s “file guitar” sounds ringing out like the most alive music on Earth.

By the time Bill reached Café Oto in early 2024 he had relocated to Philadelphia all the while releasing a succession of collaborative LPs on his Open Mouth label to present his developing progression of solo and collaborative work. He also would find himself considerably engaged with playing the electric taishōgoto, a keyboard-activated string instrument from Japan which can exist as a one, two, four, five, or six string oblong sound object. Bill’s approach to the taishōgoto would not be too unlike his approach to the traditional electric guitar, though no outboard implements such as files, sticks, and rocks are utilized. The similarity would lie wholly with Bill’s full immersion of high velocity action-playing where, with the taishōgoto, an electric drone beauty occurs. The flurry of sonics and resultant harmonics emanating from the amplifier (which Bill opts to dial into with borderline loud-as fuck volume settings) furthers the meta-mantra properties of the instrument in an astounding display of drone dynamism.

This sound world of Bill’s two-stringed taishōgoto on this Café Oto night worked beautifully with Evan Parker’s improvisatory saxophone conceptions. The duology achieved instant lift off at ground zero only to find it’s eventual finale as if it were organically ordained. Time seemingly morphed from its ancient human construct of control, rendered inconsequential to the torrential transcendence of the room wildly activated by the magic resonance of the multi-directional pan-spatial sonance of the music as if it were some beatific blessing. It was one of those nights where art as a liberating force of spirit gifted the listeners with an offering of exaltation and joy. It was entirely mystical and mind blowing. A night of Total Music."

Thurston Moore, London, 2025

Following a string of acclaimed collaborations, including Agua Dulce with percussionist Laura Robles and Mapambazuko alongside Congolese guitarist Titi Bakorta, Peruvian artist Alejandra Cárdenas (aka Ale Hop) returns with her most personal work to date yet, A Body Like a Home. Marking her first album under her birth name, the project is a sonic memoir exploring the tangled realms of trauma, recovery, and love through autobiographical soundscapes.
A Body Like a Home is the artist at her most exposed. Comprising 13 songs and 15 poems, the album sees her set aside collaborative fusions for solo catharsis, channeling years of turbulence - intergenerational scars left by colonialism, racism, domestic violence, and alcoholism - into a work that oscillates between brutality and tenderness. Cárdenas states: “I grew up under Alberto Fujimori’s dictatorship, when a veil of hopelessness seemed to settle over everything. This is the backdrop of the album. The songs and poems trace the inevitable loop between private wounds - addiction, domestic violence, fractured intimacy - and Peru’s national scars, carved by colonialism. It’s not a straight story or a resolution. Writing and composing became a ritual of digging for meaning, into what’s buried, disguised, or renamed, until the body itself became a living archive.
” At the heart of the album is Cárdenas’s own voice - part witness, part confessor - reciting over layers of electric guitars, electronic textures, the haunting violin of Mexican musician Gibrana Cervantes, and a collage of field recordings, from rainfall, muffled whispers, broken glass, to archival protest footage from Peru. The result is a work that resonates like a diary written in sound.
The first single, "Motherland", is a searing testimony where Cárdenas voice cracks under the weight of history and personal loss. Amid a storm of distorted guitars, she traces the cyclical legacies of colonialism, from state massacres branding Indigenous bodies as “terrorists” to the spiral of addiction as an unavoidable future. The lyrics draw parallels between political and domestic violence: a mother’s drunken knife pressed to her chest, and a motherland where racism is currency. She utters: “sacrifice demands a body.” Yet, amid the wreckage, a willful grip on love and faith persists. Ultimately, A Body Like a Home is a document of transformation. Tracks like "Evangelina" and the title piece "A Body Like a Home" hold space for resilience, spirituality, and love, while "Early Road" and "Going South" thread subtle nods to Peruvian folklore, opening up bright vignettes into a sense of belonging.
The poetry chapbook accompanying A Body Like a Home (five of its pieces are also recited on the album) extends the work, building a parallel architecture. Oscillating between the documentary and the mythic, the intimate and the forensic, the profane and the oniric, these poems practice a theology of the ordinary, where everyday objects - cameras, knives, moth-eaten cotton - are charged withspiritual and historical weight. Here, the body is land, house, battlefield, collective pain, geological territory; and trauma is, in contrast, archival, cellular, ritualistic, inherited. Read alongside the music, the stories refract across two mediums: songs give them breath and poems give them bone.

led by guitarist seiji hano, the jazz group om released only one album — solar wind, a landmark work that stands as one of the greatest achievements in japanese ethnic jazz. now, this masterpiece is finally being reissued.

their sound, seemingly a response from japan to ecm artists such as oregon and codona active during the same period, is refined yet imbued with a distinctly japanese sense of wabi-sabi — melancholic, nostalgic, and deeply resonant.

from “windmill,” featured on studio mule’s compilation midnight in tokyo vol.2, to every other track, solar wind is a flawless album with not a single weak moment — a true masterpiece of japanese jazz.

Four late-night burners from Francesco Carvetta, marking the second chapter of Lirica White Series. Deep, hypnotic, and spiked with a dark funky twist, this is music designed for dancefloors that thrive past the witching hour.

Torque and tension drive “Larch (Acid Mix)”, its 303 lines spitting early-2000s bite through a continuous escalation of energy and unexpected turns. “503” heads into progressive territory, sleek, propulsive, and subtly echoing a bygone era without ever lapsing into nostalgia.

On the flip, “Supaline” takes a more playful route: a wobbling bassline underpins restless synth chatter, shaping a groove in constant motion. Closing with depth, “That Wakes Me” unfolds like a cinematic trip, atmospheric and tinged with melancholy, yet never cold, leaving the record suspended in late-night resonance.

Pelican has always been a band that's not just from Chicago, but distinctly of Chicago. Formed in 2000 by guitarists Trevor Shelley de Brauw and Laurent Schroeder-Lebec alongside brothers Bryan and Larry Herweg on bass and drums respectively, Pelican's foundation was built upon the rule-free, genre-agnostic scene synonymous with the Fireside Bowl. "The `90s in Chicago was a free-for-all. Everyone was just coming from a place of pure creativity," says Shelley de Brauw. With Schroeder-Lebec returning to the band following Dallas Thomas' exit in 2022, this reunified version of Pelican allowed the band to tap back into those influences and build something distinctly new with Flickering Resonance. While longtime Pelican fans will find an updated version of the band's ethos_one that's been constantly evolving since their very first EP_their new partnership with Run For Cover Records emphasizes something that's always been implicit to the Pelican formula. These songs take as much inspiration from titanic `90s post-hardcore, space-rock, and emo as they do traditional metal, showing that though Godflesh and Goatsnake records occupied the shelves of Pelican's songwriters, so too did Quicksand, Christie Front Drive, and Hum. "A lot of people didn't hear it," says Schroeder-Lebec. "I was like, well, I guess the metal world is where we fit. But now, I'm willing to acknowledge all the suits we're wearing." On Flickering Resonance, Pelican allowed themselves to look at their music less as a means of hard-earned catharsis and more as an appreciation for the glimmers of joy that occur even in the bleakest landscapes.

Things Gotta Change is the fourth release by Austrian soul band SLADEK, following their debut album and
two EPs. With Loveless (2024), the group redefined their sound and secured a unique place in contemporary
soul. This new ten-track album builds on that breakthrough, blending the spirit of Curtis Mayfield, Donny
Hathaway and Marvin Gaye into a style distinctly their own.
At the core of SLADEK are David Sladek (vocals, guitar), Alvis Reid (bass) and Raphael Vorraber (drums),
joined by longtime producer Mathias Garmusch. Passionate about late-’60s soul and analog recording, they
craft a warm, deep sonic palette enriched by Taineh (backing vocals, keys), Yvonne Moriel (flute) and Tobias
Meissl (vibraphone).
The opener “Weight of the World” moves from heaviness to hope over guitar riffs, Mellotron flutes and a
powerful outro. “Stranger”, the first single, turns romantic miscommunication into an uplifting groove. “Wait for
Me” reflects on tough choices before drifting into a meditative guitar and flute mantra. “What a Little Love Can
Do” delivers a calm yet urgent call for compassion. “Here to Stay”, the second single, pairs emotional
uncertainty with steadfast resolve.
Instrumental “Lotus Eater” offers a dreamlike pause, inspired by mythic forgetfulness. The title track “Things
Gotta Change” is a heartfelt plea to break harmful patterns. “Beacon”, the ballad, urges kindness in a cruel
world. “Waking Dream” brings minor-key blues and abstract introspection, while “Bye Bye” closes with highenergy farewells and fresh perspectives.
Things Gotta Change stands as a rich, analog-crafted statement—blending timeless influences, vivid
storytelling, and a deep emotional range into one cohesive, soulful journey.

critical darling and beloved by fans, the success and recognition of Domestica changed the trajectory of Cursive's career. It was recorded over nine days at Lincoln, NE's Whoop-Ass studios (the original studio of Mike and AJ Mogis), and the album's bracing, jagged, cathartic, and visceral songs capture the urgency of the reunited young band_and continue to resonate with fans 25 years later.

Micor ist eine Band aus Karlsruhe, deren Frontmann Robert Besta (bekannt aus ,Back in Action"/Netflix und seit 10 Jahren bei ,Die Fallers") ist und zu der Johannes Frisch, Stefan Breuer und Marcus Franzke gehören. Im Mittelpunkt stehen Bestas Texte und Kompositionen, deren Musik literarische Tiefe mit roher emotionaler Kraft verbindet und einen ebenso intimen wie weitläufigen Sound schafft. Micor schafft reichhaltige, atmosphärische Klangwelten, die cineastisch und immersiv wirken und den Zuhörer in einen Raum der Reflexion, des Geschichtenerzählens und der Resonanz einladen. Mit ihrer unverwechselbaren Stimme und ihrem künstlerischen Anspruch sticht Micor als einzigartiges Musikprojekt mit einer starken, wiedererkennbaren Identität hervor.

Monolith 45 series I

A new chapter emerges within Organic Signs.Conceived as a vessel dedicated to a single frequency, Monolith 45 is born to trace the lineage of progressive trance — that tribal, hypnotic, and ceremonial sound that carved its path during the early 2000s, and which today we reclaim with reverence.

Each release stands as a stone marker along this continuum: timeless signals that resonate equally with memory and vision. As with the broader work of Organic Signs, this new line will follow a dual path: rescuing forgotten gems from the past while also curating new music that embodies the same spirit.

Monolith 45 becomes the place where past and present intertwine, shaping a narrative that honors tradition while opening new doors for exploration.

The first monolith in the series carries with it two totems of the genre:
On the A-side, Magnetrixx – Intraferences, originally released in the year 2000 on the legendary Tatsu Records. Behind this moniker stands Stefan Lewin, not only a key architect of the progressive trance sound but also the mind behind ACL (Audiophile Circuits League), one of the most special modular synthesizer brands..

His work bridges eras: from shaping the trancefloor at the turn of the millennium to designing instruments that define modern electronic creation.On the B-side, Ticon – Lo Mi Hi, a track that saw the light in 2001 on Digital Structures, one of the most influential labels of that era.

Ticon are nothing short of mythical within this universe — pioneers whose sound blurred borders between deep grooves, psychedelic textures, and progressive structures, leaving an indelible mark that still resonates with dancers and producers worldwide.

With Monolith 45, we seek not only to preserve these transmissions but to project them into the present: to reawaken a sound that was always more than music, a tribal pulse, a ritual language that invited bodies and minds into collective trance.
This is our homage, our offering, and our way of extending the path forward.

Mona Steinwidder (Museum of No Art) and Mitko Mitkov have spent years exchanging sounds and words across Hamburg's creative landscape - Swimming Pool Reflections is where those exchanges accumulated in Steinwidder's studio beneath the slanted roof of a former barracks. Premiered in November 2024 for Gesa Troch's exhibition "you say water is sweet", the work intertwines Mitkov’s texts (originally composed as emails to members of a swimming club, as imaginary as they are real) with Steinwidder’s clarinet and synthesizer, full of dubby resonance.

Swimming Pool Reflections isn't about swimming. It's about standing at the edge and watching - the way light fractures through water, how shadows play across tile, everything that forms and dissolves in the viewer's eye. The libretto moves through straits where bodies of water collide, small lakes with white slides, pools suspended in generic landscapes generated from uploaded photographs. Binary gods and transparent shadows. Sediment and cosmic hands weaving existence on overdimensional looms.

Across two uninterrupted sides, words float like those oil spots Mitkov describes: "swallowing light, drifting between the waves, forming a strange pattern". The music holds space for these reflections without trying to contain them. Everything stays permeable. Everything keeps moving.

For our ninth offering we have ventured out of our small but fertile swamp in search of another source of magick. Meandering across boggy pastures new, we crossed paths with Steevio, who sat hovering serenely in the fern covered shade of a nearby valley. Instantly recognising the singular vision of this fabled artist, we hastily gathered our nets and cast them under Steevio’s branches, capturing four beautiful offerings as they wriggled towards us. Upon the return to our mulch, it became clear that we could not contain Steevio’s creations, so willful was their vitality. It was therefore all we could do to release them back to the universal dance from whence they came.

The dance germinates with the writhing polyrhythmic ‘Apricity’. Hearing the crunch of frost laden grass beneath our webbed toes, we look above us to search for the sun. Angular beams of light escape over the horizon, as the warmth of Steevio’s machines coalesce. A glistening hi hat breaks through the membrane to bind his creation and anchor its ever shifting arms.

‘Octopus’ glides gracefully through a sun-dappled kelp forest. Sub frequencies rumble up from the shadowy darkness below, rippling along the fronds as they ascend. As the ocean begins to churn, a wriggling melodic tentacle parts the foliage, gleaming with primordial energy. Its joyful visit to the surface realm leaves us with a brief yet powerful reminder of the mystery beneath.

The glow of the midwinter sun warms our bones on ‘Apricity (Sunrise Mix)’. Percussive elements bubble out of the depths, forming intricate cascading patterns as they grow over the perfectly formed kicks. The moog filter tames the brew with Steevio’s intuitive restraint , until he releases its mighty power upon the gleeful forest dwellers, to their rapturous gratitude.

With ‘Adref’ we return home. The sedate tempo provides oceanic space for a melody which inhales and exhales over a familiar landscape of perfectly tuned percussion. With each breath the melody seems to increase its reach, until it’s buried deep within our bones, its memory resonating on long after it’s gone.

Steevio’s music reflects the universal moments where seemingly chaotic and disparate elements are suddenly revealed to be perfectly harmonious. Of course examples of this are always universally present in nature, and have been eternally, but we have to be reminded to appreciate them. In the same way that a wave deposits a perfect line of shells on a beach, dew freezes on grass, or individual strands of mycelial hyphae bind together to form incredible patterns, Steevio’s music is likewise; effortlessly considered. For us, it has more in common with the unrelenting flow of a river than it does with dance music. It is psychedelic music in the same sense that nature is intuitively psychedelic; without ever leaning into any tried tropes of what is culturally considered ‘psychedelic’ music.

Jon Porras verfügt über eine seltene Fähigkeit, den Puls einer Klanglandschaft zu lokalisieren und ihren emotionalen Kern herauszuarbeiten. Seine Arbeit speist sich seit langem aus der Reibung zwischen organischen Formen und elektronischer Verarbeitung, doch mit Achlys bewegt er sich weiter in Richtung Textur, Erosion und Gewicht. Diese Musik ist von Zusammenbruch durchdrungen - nicht als Spektakel, sondern als langsamer Prozess. Diese Stücke entfalten sich nicht, sie sammeln sich. Gitarre, Subbass, modulare Synthese und verarbeitete Geräusche sammeln sich wie Sedimente an und schichten sich zu Kompositionen, die sich eher wie Wettersysteme als wie traditionelle Songs bewegen. Das Album navigiert durch eine Abfolge von fragmentierten Klangvignetten: zerfallende Umgebungen, monumentale Stille und reale wie auch innere Landschaften. Die Struktur wird durchlässig. Jedes Stück deutet sowohl auf Präsenz als auch auf Verschwinden hin. Häufig wurden mehrere Stücke isoliert geschrieben und ohne Synchronisation übereinandergelegt, sodass absichtliche Dissonanzen die resultierenden Texturen bestimmten. Dieser Ansatz begünstigt Drift und Reibung, wobei Melodien durch verschwommene Intervalle geistern und eine Spannung zwischen Erinnerung und Verzerrung erzeugen. Das Album beginnt mit ,Fields", wo schwache Gitarrenphrasen in hohlen, resonanten Tönen versinken, die eher erinnert als gespielt wirken. An den Rändern flackert Wärme, gefiltert und entfernt, wie Licht, das sich durch Ruß drängt. In ,Holodiscus" treiben elegische Linien über einer sanften Unterströmung von Dissonanzen und widerstehen leise dem Sog in Richtung Zusammenbruch. Der Titeltrack gleitet zwischen Klarheit und Verzerrung und verwandelt harmonische Fragmente in ein schimmerndes Gitter aus Verfall. Während des gesamten Albums dehnen anhaltende Töne die Zeit zu einer Unschärfe, während bearbeitete Gitarrenklänge wie Echos aus benachbarten Räumen auftauchen und wieder verschwinden. Jedes Stück trägt eine emotionale Prägung, ohne eine Richtung vorzugeben, und hinterlässt Texturen, die sich sowohl taktil als auch unruhig anfühlen. Diese Dualität der Größenordnung - immens und winzig - fließt in die Klangpalette des Albums ein. In ,Sea Storm" brodelt und zieht der tiefe Klang nach unten und verstreut dabei Gitarrenfragmente. ,Before the Rite" schwillt mit abrasiver Dichte und verzerrten Obertönen an - ein Moment der fast überwältigenden Intensität, der sich gerade noch im Gleichgewicht hält. Die Klänge bleiben in der Schwebe und weigern sich, sich aufzulösen.Achlys bewegt sich durch ein Gebiet wechselnder Schwellen - wo Licht und Schatten, Struktur und Erosion nebeneinander existieren, ohne sich in Gegensätze aufzulösen. Anstatt auf eine klare Schlussfolgerung abzuzielen, bietet das Album eine zyklische Form von Entstehung und Erosion. Es ist klanglich dicht und doch weitläufig, emotional resonant, aber losgelöst von jeder Erzählung. Nichts hier ist feststehend. Alles trägt die Spur davon, einmal etwas anderes gewesen zu sein. Während einige Fragmente verblassen und andere nachklingen, prägen sie alle die Atmosphäre.

- Limited edition solid 2x12” vinyl LP.
- Housed in PMS printed inner sleeve, featuring custom fonts by No Format and spot gloss abstraction of the original album artwork.
- Accompanied with a double sided 2-panel insert and double sided 4 panel poster.
- All sleeved in a custom PMS reverse board outer sleeve with die cut square centre panel and belly band.


Grinning Cat confounded devotees of Sakura with a far more complex set of tracks. A landscape of ambiguous emotional resonance within an album of measured extremes. Sentimental without being schmaltzy, joyful without being saccharine, Grinning Cat sees Yokota at his most playful and experimental, channelling moments of transitory wonder and jubilation, and opening up a sonic environment in which we can romp and play.

Léo Dupleix return to Black Truffle with Round Sky, following the enchanting Resonant Trees (BT119). The composer here performs on analogue synthesizer, harpsichord and spinet as one member of Asterales, a group that brings together four important figures in the international community of musicians working with just intonation: Dupleix, Jon Heilbron (double bass), Rebecca Lane (quarter-tone flute) and Frederik Rasten (guitars). The quartet perform three recent pieces by Dupleix, each of which is like a different view on the same landscape of unruffled calm, where the unique harmonic events made possible by just intonation flicker across melodies and harmonies like light on the surface of water.

The first side is dedicated to ‘Poème d’air’, composed while Dupleix was immersed in the music of 14thcentury ars nova composer-poet Guillaume de Machaut. A sustained study of the ‘sonic possibilities of low-pitched sounds in just intonation’, it begins with a long, rumbling pitch from Heilbron’s bass, soon joined by the organ-like tones of the composer on synthesizer. The piece is made up of cycling sequences of chords, each of which is repeated for several minutes before the music either freezes on a single harmony or silently pauses before the next episode begins. These structures are initially dominated by the bass and synthesizer, with Lane’s pure vibrato-less flute tone and Rasten picked harmonics adding flashes of colour. As the piece develops, flute and guitar become more prominent and the bass climbs to higher registers. The development culminates in a stunning episode around fifteen minutes in where the texture thins out, casting a spotlight on a melodic figure exploiting the uncanny sound of Lane’s quarter-tone flute.

On the second side we are treated to two briefer pieces, closer to the sound of Resonant Trees as they return harpsichord and spinet to the foreground. ‘Ghosts’ centres on a harpsichord melody that slowly expands as it repeats, growing from a haunting six-note cell to a flowing succession of notes whose shape become increasingly difficult to perceive. Alongside this melodic development, an increasingly lush accompaniment grows, with long tones from bass, flute, e-bowed guitar and synthesizer holding notes picked out the harpsichord melody in a swaying harmonic cloud. Dupleix notes that the concluding ‘Round Sky’ was written in the countryside in spring, a circumstance that seems far from irrelevant to the impression the piece makes when its euphonous spinet arpeggios emerge from a gentle synthesizer drone like a flower from a bud. Performed as a duo with Rasten, with both instrumentalists also singing, this title piece exemplifies what makes Dupleix’s music so unique: grounded in a rigorous application of just intonation principles yet as open as Harold Budd or Andrew Chalk to an uncomplicated, intuitive experience of beauty.

"From the very first seconds of the opening track "Graffiti Palace", this album establishes itself as one of the clearest and strongest in the band's discography. Eric Deleporte assumes his new ambitions and deploys his song-writing across 10 panoramic, dreamy songs. Seven years after "Black Condensed" and 31 years after a debut album "Icy Morning in Paris" released on the legendary French label Lithium (1994), "The Sharp Bones of my Sleep" marks a major turning point in the band's history. Rémy Poncet (Chevalrex) accompanied the construction of this sound architecture and Angy Laperdrix (Tahiti 80, Aquaserge, Chassol, Zombie Zombie, Halo Maud...) produced the mix. The light-dark atmospheres and heartbreaking melodies are more sensitive than ever in Perio's work, and summon the best of US indie (Deerhunter, Devendra Banhart...), the ghosts of punk and new-wave, and the urban poetry so dear to Eric Deleporte. ""Perio is a rare band. Because it sounds like no other, resolutely French-American, in a folk vein that bridges the gap between tradition as recorded in Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music and resolutely contemporary sounds."" -La Blogothèque

Magnetism markiert das Zusammentreffen zweier einzigartiger Künstler der experimentellen Musik. Es vereint Drew McDowalls Wurzeln in der industriellen Avantgarde von Coil und Psychic TV mit Kali Malones Fundament in zeitgenössischer Orgelkomposition, reiner Intonation und elektroakustischer Musik und verbindet zwei Generationen in einer sich tief ergänzenden Partnerschaft. Auf Magnetism manifestieren sich Malones ergreifende Melodien in McDowalls charakteristischer Klangfarben-Synthese und bilden eine einheitliche Stimme, die mit Klarheit und Vitalität mitschwingt. Obwohl das Projekt innerhalb weniger Tage aufgenommen wurde, entstand es aus einer jahrzehntelangen Freundschaft, geprägt von fortwährenden Gesprächen über Musik und das Leben und von Jahren, in denen sie sich gegenseitig in ihrer künstlerischen Praxis und persönlichen Entwicklung begleitet und unterstützt haben. "Wir vertrauen einander, unseren jeweiligen Fachgebieten und unseren einzigartigen Stärken", sagen sie über den Aufnahmeprozess. Es war eine Erfahrung voller Intuition und Zuversicht, die sie ihrer Freundschaft zuschreiben. Das Album entstand spontan in McDowalls Studio in Brooklyn, wo die Grundlage der Musik fast augenblicklich entstand. Die beiden beschlossen, ihren Improvisationen gewisse Grenzen zu setzen: Sie programmierten maßgeschneiderte Stimmungen auf einem monophonen modularen Synth-Patch und nahmen die Performance-Takes ohne Overdubs auf. "Diese Musik zu spielen fühlte sich an wie Singen, da ich meiner inneren Stimme frei folgte", sagt Kali. Das Erreichen dieser Melodien war wiederum etwas, das sich instinktiv anfühlte, wie das Aufdecken einer längst vergessenen Erinnerung. Sie fährt fort: "Ich hatte viele dieser Melodien so lange in mir behalten." McDowalls Syntheseansatz verwendet Karplus-Strong-Synthese, Delay und Verzerrung, die er mit einem intuitiven Touch formt und Malones Motive elegant verwandelt. "Die Musik ist überraschend zugänglich, obwohl einige der Klangfarben extrem sind", sagt Drew, "sie ist nicht bedrohlich oder gar undurchsichtig. Wir spielen vielleicht sogar mit Pop-Elementen." Nachdem sie die Aufnahmen ein Jahr lang unberührt gelassen hatten, kehrten sie zurück und fanden die Musik verwandelt vor: "Es fühlte sich an, als hätte sie eine unheimliche, mystische Qualität angenommen." Angetrieben von der Anziehungskraft der Wiederholung, Resonanz und Sättigung pulsiert Magnetism als lebendige Musik, die die Sinne fesselt und noch lange nach dem Verhallten der letzten Töne im Gedächtnis nachhallt.

As trans-Atlantic alchemists pulling from a shared dialectic that somehow encompassed both postmodern deconstructionist tendencies and a delightfully subversive sense of poptimism, it’s easy to see how David Cunningham and Peter Gordon immediately hit it off upon initially meeting each other back in the late-1970s at the height of their youthful transgressions. Having initially worked together on the second Flying Lizards’ LP fourth wall, with its ingenious fusion of dismantled rhythms and rearranged melodies juxtaposed against the slyly sultry singing of Snatch’s Patti Palladin— with Gordon adding a few sprinkles of mischievous sax in the mix— it’s no wonder the collaboration would lead to further musical adventures.

Which leads us directly to the genesis of The Yellow Box. Embarking on a collaborative exercise in the structural repurposing of music as untethered puzzle pieces in need of rearrangement with no predetermined outcomes, the duo gave birth to a project that would see them move through both time and recording studios across Europe, taking nearly two years from 1981-1983 to complete. Enlisting the great Anton Fier on drums from The Feelies/Lounge Lizards nexus and John Greaves on bass from Henry Cow/Soft Heap lore to round out their dueling creative counterparts, the album would be something of a lost treasure until its eventual release on Cunningham’s Piano imprint in 1996.

Cinematic in scope, and filled with drifting drones, beautiful counter-melodies, eery minimalism, Kraftwerkian synthesizers, looped voices, skronky interludes, and other shifting undercurrents of sound, it was an album that utilized both a diverse array of expressive languages, as well as early sampling techniques and prepared instruments, well before most people were thinking in such expansive, integrated terms at the dawn of the 80’s. But such is life at the vanguard of new music. And one of the reasons that it likely sat on the shelf for so long before finally being released well over a decade later. Like a sparser, less groove-oriented version of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, or a more radical take on the experimental work of Can’s Holger Czukay, The Yellow Box stands at the crossroads of time and technology, fusing multiple strands of musical thought and compositional techniques into a disjointed whole that somehow still comes off as a conceptually complete record.

Now, here it is again, over 40 years later, with perhaps even more historical resonance than it had before, remade and remodeled just waiting to be rediscovered again.

The perfect accompaniment to that deep fall feeling, Frank Maston's beloved 2025 single finally gets its long overdue vinyl release! As our friends New Commute articulated beautifully, "Foreign Affairs" drifts through London fog and Paris shimmer, its avant-lounge glow wrapping each melody in a wistful ache. On B-side "Liaison," ghostly strings and a solitary piano paint a deserted twilight shoreline, Pacôme Henry's distinct 16mm cinematography hovering nearby." We've pressed just 500 of these gorgeous records so, be quick, Maston always flies.

Originally written for a film Maston was scoring in 2024, he decided to keep it aside for himself. And, well, us all. The song has a vibe Maston has previously flirted with; he wanted to dive in...all the way: "The arrangement is huge, definitely the biggest I've written, and it merited live musicians playing together. Also another experiment, to do it with all live musicians playing my arrangements. I wanted to make something that you'd want to put on when you bring a date back to your place. It's on the edge of sappy but that's sort of the point. I decided to give myself an unlimited budget - just spend whatever was necessary to get the right musicians and record it the best way possible."

It's this dedication to sonic perfection which Maston is rightly lauded for. We couldn't not put this on a cute wee 7" when we heard it.

The A side, "Foreign Affairs", is a brilliant, Bacharach-esque romp with a bit of that unapologetically romantic Morricone angle. Says Frank: "I was trying to synthesize that sort of jazzy/sexy/classy/romantic mature sound, where the edginess is in these surprising chord changes and subtle arrangement cues."

A wonderful complement, the flipside "Liaison", evokes Martin Denny, but Eden's Island was in Frank's head, too. He wanted to take a deep dive into that exotica sound - a genre he'd referenced a bit but never fully committed to - so the piece is lavished with those big sighing strings and a pretty lush arrangement. Happily, it all sounds super rich. Also, "Umiliani is always a reference for this sort of thing (Il Corpo etc.), That almost mechanical arrangement of things moving together and a simple melody over it (something I nicked from Ennio)".

The two songs were recorded in Paris and London in the summer of 2024. Aside from the rhythm section and piano, there's vibraphone, a full string section, trombones and alto and concert flutes. "Liaison" boasts strings, vibraphone, a female choir and tenor sax. Maston played piano and acoustic guitar but that's it (as opposed to playing basically everything on Tulips). His friend Oscar Sholto Robertson played drums and percussion whilst Maston mainstay Elie Ghersinu (formerly of L'Eclair) played bass.

The theme for a lot of Maston's titles is that they have two meanings. So "Foreign Affairs" is both a reference to him living abroad and the idea of constant cultural diplomacy and then there's this sexy/cheeky interpretation of foreign affairs in a literal way - "an affair abroad, ooh la la!". The artwork for this 7" single has Roman campaign flags, referencing the foreign affairs in sort of a sassy way. There's a violence implied. But then if you look from a bit of a distance it looks like a bouquet of flowers. So Frank thought it went with the spirit of the title. Also, he's used a lot of roman motifs now so he kept that theme going, even with the terracotta cover.

This is a vitally important project for our Frank. He explains why, here: "For whatever reason, these songs really resonated with me. I feel like they are either the end of a stylistic era for me or the beginning of a new one. They're sonically the culmination of what I'd been working towards and trying to get better at since I started. If I heard this when I was making Tulips I would have said "YES! *This* is what I want to be doing!". So that's the essence of it. It's a statement and the intended reaction is "This is really good, but why now?". Like the edge to it is the context of someone making this sort of thing in 2025, which I think is a huge strength. The real heads will get it. My music always has like a 2-3 year latency until people really catch onto it, and these ones will have a nice payoff I think."

We couldn't put it better ourselves. So we haven't.

When Straight Ahead hit the shelves in 1974, it marked another bold chapter for Brian Auger’s Oblivion Express. The band—Steve Ferrone on drums, Barry Dean on bass, Jack Mills on guitar, and Lennox Langton on congas— was firing on all cylinders, pushing jazz fusion into fresh, uncharted territory.

Critics took notice, with Billboard praising the album as “excellent in development and inventiveness, ” and it found its way onto multiple charts at once.

The journey begins with “Beginning Again, ” a lively opener built on Langton’s congas and Ferrone’s muscular groove. Auger’s electric piano sparkles here, immediately setting the album’s adventurous tone. Then comes their take on Wes Montgomery’s “Bumpin’ On Sunset. ” Darker in mood and drenched in atmosphere, Auger stretches out into improvisation while still honoring Montgomery’s spirit. The interpretation struck such a chord that, years later, Wes’s widow wrote to Auger to tell him it was her husband’s favorite version of his much-loved tune.

The title track, “Straight Ahead, ” shifts gears into funk, showcasing the group’s ability to slide effortlessly between genres. “Change” pushes further, blending rock’s raw energy with jazz’s improvisational freedom, driven by Auger’s command of the Hammond organ. To close, “You’ll Stay in My Heart” brings the tempo down with a tender, soulful ballad—an intimate ending to an album full of bold explorations.

At the time, reviewers hailed the record as a gem. One called it “a minor masterpiece of incredibly engaging and melodic keyboard-centric jazz-rock fusion. ” Another singled out “Bumpin’ On Sunset” as “the best reason to own this recording.”

Half a century later, Straight Ahead still resonates. It captures that fertile moment in the 1970s when jazz, rock, and funk were colliding, and artists like Auger were busy redrawing the map. To this day, it stands as proof of Auger’s fearless curiosity and his knack for breaking boundaries—music that looked forward then, and still feels ahead of its time now.

With his third album Ouin Ouin, Miel de Montagne further establishes himself as a key figure in today’s global indie scene, resonating worldwide, especially in Latin America and Germany. Like a tightrope walker balancing between melancholy and carefree joy, he evolves alongside French talents (Lewis Ofman, L’Impératrice, Au Pinard) and international names (Parcels, Benny Sings, Men I Trust).



After a tour across Europe (England, Germany, Spain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland, Denmark) and France with a sold-out show at l'Olympia to close off his tour, he returns with “Ouin Ouin Ouin”. In this deluxe version, he collaborates with artists he met over the past few months, such as Blasé, Kazy Lambist, and Girl Ultra, a leading figure of the Mexican indie scene. To accompany these features, you’ll find two new exclusive tracks to make the Ouin Ouin journey last a little longer.

Sasha & Henry Saiz deliver evocative new single 'Love Is All You Need'

Henry Saiz and Sasha are two of electronic music’s most visionary figures, each renowned for blending emotional depth with cutting-edge production. Saiz is a DJ, producer, and live artist who crafts genre-defying soundscapes on his own Natura Sonoris as well as Sasha’s Last Night On Earth. His work resonates far beyond the dancefloor, much like that of Sasha, a pioneer with an enduring creative streak who continues to push boundaries, most recently through collaborations with forward-thinking producers like Artche, Jody Barr, and Joseph Ashworth. Together on this new single, the pair balance transportive grooves with meticulous synth work to perfection.

The wonderfully luminous 'Love Is All You Need' radiates breezy melodic charm while riding a light, uplifting rhythm that feels as airy and warm as the rush of a new romance. Shimmering, sun-kissed melodies evoke the glow of an outdoor Ibizan party with emotive female vocals drenched in reverb, adding a dreamy, blissful layer to round out this hazy and heartfelt electronic trip.

SML is the quintet of bassist Anna Butterss, synthesist Jeremiah Chiu, saxophonist Josh Johnson, percussionist Booker Stardrum, and guitarist Gregory Uhlmann. Their second album, How You Been, finds the supergroup of prolific composer/producers pushing ever further into the hyperrealist, collectivist approach to music creation nascently explored on their debut Small Medium Large, which was lauded as "awe-inspiring" by Glide, "exuberant" by the Los Angeles Times, and "an exciting milestone" by Pitchfork. As SML has evolved and spread out in space-time, their fluencies, both as an improvising unit in performance and as a production team in the studio, have sharpened. At inception the band inspired disparate but distinctive artist comparisons like Essential Logic, Oval, Herbie Hancock"s Sextant, and electric Miles Davis, as well as assorted genre touchpoints like Afrobeat, kosmiche, proto-techno and new-jazz. With How You Been their work manages to both collapse and explode such derivatives, displaying a new, high resolution version of SML, fully-flowered into a new strain of sound, bound to incite its own copycats in due time.

Akhira Sano is a Tokyo-based artist working across sound, drawing, installation, and video. His practice finds generative potential for music in life's fleeting incidents, etching meaning from unassuming spaces and resonances. With releases on 12k, LAAPS, IIKKI, and The Trilogy Tapes, Sano has steadily carved out a distinctive voice within minimal and experimental music - one that privileges attentiveness and patience over spectacle.

"To Material Past", Sano's debut for SWIMS, carries this thread with a single 30-minute work built solely using glockenspiel tones and field recordings from his local neighbourhood. This is a night walk with no map or end point; Sano follows irregular, coiling fragments that extend to form a tessellating luminous whole - like a subliminal mass of tree roots quietly shifting the concrete slabs beneath our feet.

Under this faded gauze of gestures and interactions, Sano's glockenspiel interjects like a grandfather clock, softly marking the partitions that make up a day's collected experience; clicking and chiming like the sleeping brain, as it sifts and catalogues a lifetime's ephemera of thoughts, faces and puzzles.

"The five-year anniversary release of Orion Sun’s Hold Space For Me, pressed on tangerine vinyl. Her story, that of an early 20s woman of color dealing with and learning about life's obstacles and celebrations, is understood best through her song lyrics; citing J Dilla, Nancy Wilson, Jodeci, Kirk Franklin, Hazel Scott and Digable Planets as just some of her many influences. She's a career artist with a long road ahead and her sound defies trends; capitalizing on a velvety and familiar voice with timeless jazz / folk / R&B instrumentals.

“...a pinch-yourself song that steps lightly with the thrill of a love seemingly too good to be true (and the fear that it might be)” – Philadelphia Inquirer on “Ne Me Quitte Pas”

“stark and lightly poetic.” – Pitchfork

“A smooth, serene downbeat groove and a blissed vocal finds Orion Sun singing about sudden and deep connection — “It feels so good to know ya” — and despite the sadness implied in the title, the outlook is positive and pure.” – WXPN/The Key on “Ne Me Quitte Pas”

“While the track shares the same title as covers done by Nina Simone, Regina Spektor, and Wyclef Jean, she presents a completely different vibe, slowing down a flipped sample with smooth guitar loops and resonating drums. Still, with all of the stellar instrumentation, the 23-year-old’s voice cuts through as poignant as ever.” – Refinery 29 on ”Ne Me Quitte Pas”"

One of contemporary ambient’s preeminent figures lands on its leading label, enacting a transition into a new phase of rhythmic noise and tonal shadowplay laced with peculiar sensitivities, wrangling Dilloway-influenced tape noise thru ASMR ambience, fritzed dub techno, layered vocal drone and ritualistic mantras.

Perila steps up solo with a heavily satisfying debut for West Mineral, investigating negative space and states of subconsciousness. The shift in tone feeds forward into arcane realms of resonant dark ambient and dream-pop, harnessed in amorphous structures using dub-as-method. It’s wholly immersive stuff in a way that’s long been Perlia’s calling card, but here more careful in its command of personalised, atmospheric physics from the Coil-esque ‘cheerleader’, thru the deeply smudged and sexy trip hop of ‘lava’, and the oozing, sloshing OOBE-like spectres of ‘give it all’.

The title of the album is a reference to Carl Jung’s phrase "all haste is of the devil” which informs Perila’s writing process here; she slows down in an attempt to feel more and tap into her shadow self. Album opener 'cheerbleeder' is a doomed, tremolo-heavy mass of ghost notes, while the rattling chains and strangulated voices on ‘metal snax' sounds like they belong on a Wolf Eyes tape. 'grain levy tep dusk' strikes closer to recently unearthed industrial plates from Tolerance and Mentocome, with rusted clangs threaded into deflated, half-speed pulses. The album keeps growing from there, shifting and expanding as Perila exhales and absorbs her cognitive blind spots. She credits "trance states" for helping her let go, and we broadly get to experience that on the mantra-like 'thunder me' and the blurry all-vocal highlight 'hold my leg', which sounds like it could have been snatched from Grouper's 'Way Their Crept' sessions.

As with all of Alexandra Zakharenko’s work under various aliases - Aseptic Stir, Baby Bong, Wedontneedwords, Perila - her allure is self-evident to lovers of textured, diffuse electronics, and never more so than on this lip-bitingly potent suite of delicacies and primordial urges, perfectly balancing ancient and techngnostic aspects with an x-amount of seductive strangeness left in the margins.

Fides Records celebrates ten years of independent sound and vision with the monumental 41-track release “FIDES X – 10 Years of Fides”. The first 12” FIDESX 1, set to release on 24th October sets the tone for the seven-part vinyl journey, opening with a powerful statement of intent.

UFO95 introduces “After Light Comes Shadow”, a bleep-infused 4/4 cut whose broken accents unfold into layers of cinematic tension. Z.I.P.P.O and Claudio PRC follow with “Marte Rosso”, a poetic excursion across Martian landscapes shaped by evolving pads and hypnotic grooves. D-Leria’s “Underwater” plunges deeper still, driven by relentless modular propulsion and immersive aquatic textures.

The B-side expands the spectrum. Stephanie Sykes & Dyad contribute an untitled roller infused with spiritual intensity and organ-like resonance, while BIMOL’s “Fragmento en La” twists cinematic atmospheres and industrial edges into broken rhythms guided by a haunting Spanish vocal. Bringing the record to a close, Decoder delivers “We Keep Lying To Ourselves”—a slow-burning, 808-driven piece of subtle progression and timeless elegance

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

Jessika Kenney ist Sängerin, Komponistin, Autorin, Klangkünstlerin und Lehrerin, deren Engagement für Improvisation, Poesie und Klangforschung eine einzigartige Perspektive hervorgebracht hat. Ihre Erkundungen von Klang, Raum und der Metaphysik des Klangs wurden in vielen Kontexten und an vielen Orten präsentiert, darunter in der Seattle Public Library, im Nottingham Contemporary und im Benton Museum. Zu ihren Kollaborationen und Projekten gehören eine umfangreiche Diskografie mit Eyvind Kang, das letzte aufgezeichnete Vokalwerk von Alvin Lucier, Auftritte mit Melati Suryodarmo, die Komposition der Vokalmusik für A24s Midsommar und die Chorleitung für SUNN O)))'s Monoliths and Dimensions. Jessika Kenney, bekannt für ihren einzigartigen Umgang mit der Stimme, hat in den letzten zwei Jahrzehnten neue Klangwelten geschaffen, die auf intensiven Studien, rituellen Praktiken und einer ungezähmten Ausdruckskraft beruhen. Von ihren gefeierten Kollaborationen mit Eyvind Kang bis zu ihrer Vokalkomposition für A24s ,Midsommar" bewegen sich Kenneys Arbeiten an der Schnittstelle zwischen dem Heiligen, dem Klangvollen und dem Unsichtbaren. Auf Uranian Void wendet sich Kenney nach innen und spürt den Konturen von Erinnerung, Resonanz und Wahrnehmung nach. Mit verschwommenen Sinuswellen, Hydrofonaufnahmen, einem Ghazal von Hafez und Originaltexten ist das Album eine Meditation über Liminalität, in der Schimmer und Schatten gleichermaßen vibrieren. Kenneys Stimme webt sich durch alles hindurch: manchmal flüsternd, manchmal strahlend , immer präzise. ,Dieses Album ist eine Übung in Transparenz innerhalb der Dunkelheit", erklärt Kenney. ,Es geht darum, offen zu bleiben für Zweifel , für Nachhall, für das, was jenseits unserer Wahrnehmung liegt." ,Uranian Void" wurde von Randall Dunn (SU NN O))), Kali Malone, Annea Lockwood) produziert und aufgenommen, dessen charakteristische räumliche Details und Tiefe dem Album seine immersive Klangarchitektur verleihen. Jeder Ton, jeder Atemzug und jede Resonanz wird mit Intimität und Dimension wiedergegeben und verstärkt Kenneys Erforschung von Präsenz und Abwesenheit. Fragmente, die während Besuchen in Spokane, ihrem Elternhaus, aufgenommen wurden, bilden die Grundlage des Albums. Im Studio transformiert, werden diese zu beschwörenden Vierzeilern - leise, aber eindringlich - die den subtilen Puls von Ort, Zeit und Körper offenbaren. Echos der Vergangenheit verschmelzen mit der Gegenwart , als ob die Wände selbst sich erinnern und mitschwingen würden. Uranian Void ist Musik für Schwellenbereiche - eine Einladung, sich mit dem Unsichtbaren und Kaum hörbar. Mit dieser kraftvollen und poetischen Aussage bestätigt sich Kenney als eine der visionärsten Vokalistinnen der Gegenwart.

The Dead 60s seminal self-titled album gets a timely Deluxe edition reissue on Vinyl for its 20th Anniversary, on Deltasonic Records



“Back in the day, punk and dub weren’t just sharing space—they were smashing into each other headfirst. Late '70s Britain was a pressure cooker, and for kids like me, growing up between Brixton’s bass bins and the chaos of King’s Road, that collision was everything. Jamaican sound system culture met punk’s raw spirit in a haze of smoke, sweat, and feedback. It wasn’t about genre—it was about energy. Identity. Defiance. so when The Dead 60s came along, post-Britpop and post-bullshit, it felt like someone had dusted off the blueprint and run it through a battered old tape echo. These weren’t just lads with good taste—they understood the assignment. They took the DNA of two rebel cultures and mutated it into something that could stand tall in the 21st century. Dub-soaked, punk-fuelled, dripping with that Liverpool attitude. I remember first hearing them and thinking—yeah, here we go again. Not in a retro way, but in a real way. Guitars that cut like sirens in the night. Basslines fat and warm, straight out the Channel One playbook. Lyrics that painted the grey corners of Britain like CCTV poetry. It was the sound of youth under pressure. The sound of not fitting in—and not wanting to.

Their debut album dropped in 2005, and it hit like a flare in the dark. “Riot Radio” was a pirate broadcast from the concrete frontlines. “Control This” swaggered with menace and reverb. It was like someone opened a time capsule from the punky-reggae party and rewired it for a new generation.

Now, with this 20th anniversary vinyl reissue—complete with the full dub companion produced by Central Nervous System—we get to hear the bones and blood of it all. The dub versions pull the tracks apart and let the ghosts speak. Reverb, delay, space—it’s not just production, it’s meditation. Revolution slowed down to a heartbeat. It’s music that makes you move and think. What they’ve done here is more than remix a record—they’ve revealed its soul. That’s what dub does when it’s done right. And The Dead 60s, they got that. They weren’t tourists in the culture—they were students of it, shaped by it, and ultimately, contributors to the legacy. Liverpool’s long had a love affair with Jamaican music—you can hear it in the streets if you’re really listening. The Dead 60s tapped into that lineage, but they brought their own thing to the table. Punk's fire. Dub’s depth. Ska’s bounce. All filtered through a Northern lens and blasted out like protest graffiti. This 20th anniversary reissue ain’t about nostalgia. It’s a reminder. A celebration. A call to arms. Music like this doesn’t belong in a museum—it belongs on a system, shaking walls and waking minds. Crate diggers, completists, young punks, old heads—this one's for all of you.

So put it on and turn it up. Let the punk edge sharpen your thoughts, and the dub shake your bones ‘cos this isn’t just a reissue - it’s resistance on wax.....”

Eyvind Kang ist Komponist und Bratschist, dessen Werk experimentelle, klassische und traditionelle Musikformen umfasst. Zu seinen Kollaborationen zählen unter anderem Jessika Kenney, Bill Frisell, Laurie Anderson, Bennie Maupin, Stuart Dempster, Sun City Girls und SUNN O))). Kang ist bekannt für seine Erkundungen der Mikrotonalität, der modalen Improvisation und des Klangrituals. Seine Werke wurden weltweit auf führenden Festivals und Veranstaltungsorten präsentiert. Kang ist derzeit Fakultätsmitglied am CalArts und unterrichtet Komposition und experimentelle Klangpraktiken. Seit über dreißig Jahren erforscht Eyvind Kang die verschwommenen Grenzen zwischen Komponist, Interpret und Zuhörer. Auf Riparian präsentiert er eines seiner bisher intimsten und fokussiertesten Werke: zwei Langformstücke für Viola d'amore, improvisiert innerhalb mikrotonaler Systeme, die er während der Pandemie entwickelt hat. Kang bezeichnet diese Improvisationsmethode als ,Riparian" und beschwört damit das Bild eines Flusses herauf, der in verschiedene Richtungen überquert wird - fließend, nichtlinear und lebendig mit subtilen Variationen. ,Ich stellte mir Pizzicato und Arco wie das Springen von Stein zu Stein in einem Bach vor", sagt er. ,Es gibt eine geerdete Zufälligkeit, wie bei einem Frosch oder einer Schildkröte, die sich zwischen Land und Wasser bewegt." Jedes Stück auf Riparian ist eine erste Aufnahme, die im Studio als Teil dessen aufgenommen wurde, was Kang als ,eine Art Geschichtenerzählen unter gleichgesinnten Freunden" bezeichnet. Das Ergebnis ist Musik, die mit stiller Intensität und emotionaler Klarheit fließt und Melodien entfaltet, die sich sowohl uralt als auch lebendig präsent anfühlen. Produziert und aufgenommen von Randall Dunn (SU NN O))), Omar S ouleyman, Kali Malone) produziert und aufgenommen, fängt Riparian die volle Resonanz der Viola d'amore in einem reichen, dimensionalen Klang ein. Dunns Handschrift verleiht Kangs lyrischer Phrasierung Wärme und Transparenz und offenbart subtile Klangtexturen, die ein tiefes Hören belohnen. Meditativ und ausdrucksstark zugleich lädt Riparian den Hörer in einen Raum ein, in dem die Zeit weicher wird und Klang zu einer Form der Einstimmung wird .

A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is the new album by Australian atmospheric pop trio Hydroplane, the storied 'offshoot' formed by three quarters of independent pop group, The Cat's Miaow. On this, their first music after two decades plus of radio silence, Andrew Withycombe, Kerrie Bolton and Bart Cummings return to the gentle, close-quarters musical world they shared around the turn of the century.

Recorded during 2024 in Melbourne and Ballarat, A Place In My Memory… picks up the thread Hydroplane set down with its precursor, 2001's The Sound Of Changing Places, though you can hear echoes of their other releases, too, with Withycombe noting a through-line from the group's 1998 "Failed Adventure" single. There's little quite like A Place In My Memory…, then or now, though. Maybe you can draw some connections between Hydroplane and their sister group, The Cat's Miaow, while fellow travellers might include Empress, The Ah Club, and further back, Young Marble Giants, Veronique Vincent (the muffled, ticking drum machine also makes me think of Robin Gibb's Robin's Reign).

There's also an umbilical to the bedroom-crafted electronica doing the rounds in the late nineties and early noughties. Hydroplane hint at this through their approach to songwriting, which often builds creatively around loops as structural devices. Through all this, the trio achieve an effortless, organic weightlessness across these nine lovely songs. Many feature Bolton's clear singing voice, drifting along, while guitars, keyboards, drum machines and loops tickertape away. The constituent parts fit together, but they also have a curiously detached quality - think of abstract cloud formations sharing the same sky.

Hydroplane and The Cat's Miaow often dealt in emotional ambiguity and uncertainty, and the uncertainty of the nostalgic. This was always one of the most appealing facets of their music, and A Place In My Memory… is thus named perfectly. I couldn't dream up a better title for the album and its reflections on history, lived experience, and the inevitable tangle between these two phenomena. These reflections variously address such concerns as human cruelty, flight, space travel, adventurism and spiritualism. There's also "To the Lighthouse", not a direct reference to the Virginia Woolf book, but a great title, nonetheless. (They've always had excellent titles, often borrowed, for songs and albums.)

A beautiful collection of drowsy, sleepy pop, humble and quiet, but resolute in its craft, A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is dream work in practice; a lovely reintroduction. Welcome back, then.

Dissonans marks a new chapter in a longer story and is the second album in an announced trilogy, following last year's Norwegian Grammy-nominated Resonans. For those who have been following Seigmen, the first thing they might notice about Dissonans is the album cover. Where their earlier covers have been simple, symmetrical, and minimalist, Dissonans instead offers a stripped-down, almost punk-like aesthetic. And, as the title suggests, this album is not what you might usually expect - even though the sound is still unmistakably Seigmen to the avid listener. The album's ten tracks range from majestic, drone-like sounds made on homemade equipment to high-tempo songs with drum riffs borrowed from a 35-year-old demo. It even leads the band into uncharted territory with the airy ballad Så Nært, which also serves as the third and final single ahead of the album release. All in all, Dissonans is a new album from a band that has, in a remarkable way, rediscovered fresh energy, creativity, and playfulness many years after once being Norway's leading rock band.

For more than thirty years, Arnaud Fournier has been shaping the landscape of the French expe-rimental scene. First within the duo HINT, a singular fusion of experimental, noise and indie music, he released three studio albums in the late 1990s and has continued to perform regularly ever since, including a live album with EZ3kiel in 2009. With La Phaze (1999), Dead Hippies (2013) and later Atonalist (2017), he has always instinctively sought to cross genres and stage dialogues bet-ween extremes. In 2025, with 100% Black Puzzle, he delivers his very first album under his own name, a work where saturated guitars, saxophones, trumpet, hypnotic loops and vast layers of drone meet. Mixed and mastered by Olivier "Cali" Fournier at Studioscope in Angers, 100% Black Puzzle gathers familiar faces around it. Its title resonates as an intentional echo, directly referencing 100% White Puzzle, HINT's debut album. Thirty years on, Arnaud Fournier rediscovers the same spirit of absolute freedom across these five tracks: no format constraints, no compromise on length. The title track, an eight-minute instrumental, sets the tone - a raw, urgent gesture, cap-tured in the moment. In his own words, it was about "finding myself once more in that first-song state of mind, without any confinement." With 100% Black Puzzle, Arnaud Fournier fully embraces signing the work under his own name. No pseudonym, no mask, but an unveiling: a profoundly intimate record, steeped in family and friendship, where noise and beauty constantly collide and entwine. Thirty years after shaking up the French indie scene with HINT, he delivers a body of work that is at once retrospective and forward-looking - a black puzzle that resounds like a rebirth. And what better way to "close the circle" than by heading back on tour?

"Seishin" is a focused, four-track EP from Japan-born, Berlin-based producer Shingo Suwa on Acid Camp. The title translates to "spirit," and the record treats that idea as both a feeling and a relay: an original transmission from a time of quarantined isolation followed by responses from trusted collaborators. Clay Wilson contributes two versions: one a deep, tensile workout and the other a companion take sparked by the legacy of Jasen Loveland (1980-2021). Jasen Loveland also worked on a remix of his own in 2021. "Seishin" is not only about losing yourself-it is also about the resonance of spirit and memory, passed across friends, to find yourself again.

Chris Menist pares his sound right back for A book of imaginary beings, his fourth Awkward Corners outing with a project of electronic and abstracted global grooves. Experimenting with simple melodies and uncluttered arrangements, as well as taking inspiration from the Borges' short stories alluded to in the title, the project took shape in the early part of 2025, in the shorter days and dark evenings of January.

The initial challenge was to knock a basic track into shape each evening after work, then refine it later. There's a melancholy in the air in late winter, compounded by the creeping threat of national and geopolitical instability. Ulla, Natural Information Society, Jabu, Torso and Dawuna formed some of the background soundtrack as each tune took shape.

The track titles came after sitting with the sounds for a while, giving shape to images of people, creatures and their stories for a book that is yet to be written.

Two former friends sets the tone for the album perfectly as a minimal electronic piece with a slowly simmering synth bassline underpinning the groove whilst the trademark Awkward sound of the Shahi Baaja enters drenched in effects. It's the first demonstration of Chris' unique ability to create a world from apparently very little.

Dance of the silver beetles is completely unique in that we can hear chopped up Illimba samples seemingly playing backwards and forewords sometimes alone, sometimes together in duet with Chris' conga rhythms. Add to that a more conventional Illimba melody and added shaker percussion and you have one of A book of imaginary beings most curious chapters.

Anxious shadow puppets is closer to the Awkward Corners sound from previous albums as electronic pulses move around the arrangement with the urgency that the track title suggests. Chris' percussive roots move to the fore with the congas that tie down the Paradise Bangkok Molam International Band's sound. Here, the bassline is more playful and works together with one of Chris' many African Illimbas.

Fans of Chris' adventures on his Roland 808 will dig A leopard with no spots, although the minimal mood continues to flow through on this track. The lolloping, but hard-hitting rhythm track provides the grounding for strange and twisting feedback-sounding tones to work the soundscape.

Abandoned boy (left in charge of the family business) is Awkward Corners at his atmospheric best. Drift off to the sublime sounds of Chris exploring the Shahi Baaja, whilst a soft, repetitive synth line and abstracted pads give the listener that feeling of meditation and peace.

Flamingo with bandaged neck is A book of imaginary beings' perfect coda and is exclusively Shahi Baaja draped in reverbs and delays. It feels like the resolution and the closing of a book that – as of yet – remains unwritten.

Awkward Corners is Chris Menist, a musician, DJ and writer. It started life as a small project in Islamabad, where Chris was living at the time. Initial recordings were made with local musicians in Pakistan and then subsequently in Thailand. This culminated in the Sweet Decay LP that came out on Finders Keepers' Disposable Music in 2014, and in turn led to a limited tape release on Boomkat/Reel Torque of original compositions and re-edits of Thai 45s the same year. Chris released – Dislocation Songs – his second LP proper with Shapes of Rhythm in May 2020, collaborating on many of the tracks with award-winning performer Sarathy Korwar. The LP was picked up by many radio stations including NTS, Resonance FM, BBC 6 Music, Balamii and many more. It made Tom Ravenscroft's LPs of 2020. Amateur Dramatics, Chris' second LP arrived just a year later in 2021 and was a more ambitious project featuring more jazz-focussed compositions and featuring Tamar Osborn and Kitty Whitelaw. Shortly after that came another pivot with the heavier, dancefloor-friendly EP Somebody Somewhere. Somebody Somewhere is Dancing in a Field brought the House (yes House!) vibes, whilst Hector Plimmer turned in a remix of No Words in the same club mood.

As one of NTS Radio's longest-standing presenters, Chris continues to hold down the Paradise Bangkok show. Playing drums and percussion since he was a kid, Chris is the percussionist for The Paradise Bangkok Molam International Band as well as co-founding the record label of the same name. Chris has curated compilations for labels such as Finders Keepers, Soundway and Dust-To-Digital. He has been featured on the Boiler Room, Vinyl Factory Collections, played at the Four Tet curated Nuits Sonores festival, and has put together an edition of Volumes which featured unreleased Awkward Corners compositions.






[d] 04: All the Goodbyes (You Tried to Defer) [Original]





[j] 10: Abandoned Boy (Left in Charge of the Family Business) [Original]

Originally recorded in the Dutch towns of Ureterp and Groningen between 2003 and 2005, 'Through Friendly Waters' marks a pivotal moment in Reimer Eising’s —better known as Kettel— journey through melodic braindance and ambient electronica. With his classical training on piano and a refined sensibility for gentle electronic textures, Kettel weaves together shimmering piano motifs, warm ambient textures, playful breakbeats, and pastoral atmospheres that shimmer with emotional resonance.

First released in 2005 via his own label Sending Orbs, the album soon achieved cult status among IDM fans, celebrated for balancing playful compositional elegance with heartfelt sonic depth. TFW still remains as a timeless soundtrack that perfectly encapsulates why Kettel remains a key figure of electronic music enthusiasts two decades on.

To honour its twentieth anniversary, Lapsus Records presents 'Through Friendly Waters (20th Anniversary Edition)', marking the album’s debut on vinyl within the Perennial Series. This edition has been remastered by Alex Ferrer and redesigned by Basora, resulting in a deluxe version that also includes the tracks "Unistar" and "Toen", which were originally released only on CD by the Timothy Really label back in 2007.

"Touch" is the first new album from the groundbreaking post-everything icons Tortoise since 2016. With "Touch", the Tortoise bandmembers Jeff Parker, Dan Bitney, Douglas McCombs, John Herndon and John McEntire harness their collectivist songwriting approach, a slightly anarchistic but resolutely egalitarian process where ideas triumph over ego towards an abstracted muscularity. While there are still excursions into the dusky, elegantly gnarled jazz ambience that flourished on landmark works like "Millions Now Living Will Never Die" and "TNT", "Touch" is perhaps most remarkable for Tortoise"s unapologetic embrace of grand gesture. Aerodynamically re-engineered Krautrock, hand-cranked techno rave-ups, and pointillist spaghetti western fanfares are all imbued with Tortoise"s now-signature internal logic - equally alluring and confounding, a puzzle to be savored rather than solved. Recorded between the three cities, Los Angeles, Portland, and Chicago, "Touch" is the result of an intentional effort by these five musicians to reconnect, recenter, and reinvigorate their sound for what is perhaps the group"s most diverse release to date.