Поиск:restraint

Mures are Joshua Cordova and Santiago Leyba. They fit perfectly as MRT010, transporting the label from the cold, grey, drowned in concrete atmospheres of Acid Ernst to the working class heat of the American south. Electronic body music, factory music, machines intensify their rhythm as degrees rise. Hot iron is forged, sweat and black stains cover bodies, hard labor, the struggle and the hammers, tools for modern times restraint. Rare Metal and Workers have just paved the way to that bullet that is Trains of Thought.

Blacklight Chameleon, a new moniker by Austrian producer Martin Riedler, presents a confusing or rather odd introduction with his new project on Nutriot Recordings. Riedler's music takes a stance halfway between studio production and live jam.

Beautiful Deluxe Artwork, Limited ot to not to is an experimental RnB project by VA native Ian Mugerwa that combines low fidelity electronic recording techniques with unconventional song structures to produce music that serves as homage to dusty old blues recordings. At 19, Ian left his hometown of Fairfax for Richmond, where he slept on friends' floors for several months while recording Goshen. During the day he would "hunt dussy" and during the night he would haul borrowed equipment over to the VCU music facilities and record until the morning. He was moderately successful on both fronts. The resultant recordings form a coming of age album, a snapshot of Ian from the ages of nineteen to twenty. Ian's goal was to explore new aesthetics in black music through use of nontraditional methods, creating less polished, less sterile RnB in the process. Such methods included layering 40+ cello tracks to create the illusion of an orchestra, or collaging four, separate, 4-minute tracks of improvised percussion into one. Most drums were recorded last. Despite the focus on experimentation, it was important to Ian that he be crafting pop music. It is his belief that an impactful artist has, at least to some degree, a moral responsibility to deliver their art to the maximum amount of people (to efficiently help art as a whole progress). In other words, if restraint can be exercised, it ought to be. Similar artists include James Blake, Phil Elvrum, Mark Hollis, and D'Angelo.

Cititrax release Sand Clock, the new full-length album by Men With Secrets, the Italian trio of Donato Dozzy, Lino Monaco, and Nicola Buono (Retina.it). Originally emerging from a shared background in experimental techno under the name Le Officine Di Efesto, the three musicians turned toward classic post-punk, minimal wave, and synth-driven pop with the formation of Men With Secrets. Their debut album Psycho Romance (2020), released on Bunker Records, introduced a meticulously produced body of work that felt like a rediscovered European darkwave recording from the early 1980s—yet was entirely contemporary in its construction.

With Sand Clock, the trio deepen this language. The album leans more directly into the melodic clarity and romantic tension of late-80s and early-90s darkwave and synthpop while maintaining the stark restraint that defines the project. Icy synthesizers, shuddering basslines, and precise drum machine programming frame baritone vocals that are intimate, emotionally exposed, and quietly apocalyptic.

Balancing pop structure with gothic atmosphere, Sand Clock moves between shadowed dance floor momentum and solitary headphone introspection. It is not an exercise in revivalism, but a continuation—an acknowledgment that the emotional architecture of that era remains unresolved and still relevant. Written and produced by Donato Dozzy, Lino Monaco, and Nicola Buono and recorded in Rome and Pompeii.

The vinyl edition is pressed on clear 160-gram vinyl, limited to 500 copies worldwide. Each record is housed in a heavy printed jacket with a printed inner sleeve.

The recordings on Volume II were captured in Copenhagen, Denmark on January 18, 2020. Guided as much by human instinct as by musical intention, the ensemble moved through the evening with a shared sensitivity…listening, responding, and trusting the moment as it unfolded. Though Morten McCoy admits to having felt quite ill that evening, nothing in the music suggests restraint. Instead, what remains is a vivid, playful exchange, where McCoy and Johannes Wamberg carry both Part I and Part II as a flowing conversation, speaking through sound rather than words.

Part I begins abruptly, almost throwing the listener back in time to the exact moment the improvisation was born. Jonathan Bremer steps to the forefront, providing a solid, melodic bassline as Kristoffer and Eliel, perfectly in sync, lay down a steady foundation for whichever voice chooses to rise above the rhythm.

This is also one of the few I Am An Instrument recordings to feature two guitarists. Johannes Wamberg leads the way, shaping the harmonic direction, while Steven Jess Borth II adds subtle rhythmic textures through muted palm work, deepening the groove without ever stepping into the foreground.

Part II unfolds with Morten McCoy on his Moog One, delivering a beautiful, expansive solo. Using a carefully chosen patch, the sound pulses through the rhythm, moving with the groove rather than above it, riding the beat like a wave through the ocean.
Shaped by trust, presence, and collective improvisation, Volume II captures a group deeply attuned to one another, allowing intuition and momentum to guide the unfolding form.
——
Volume III was recorded in Copenhagen on March 5, 2020. Little did anyone know that only days later, the world would be placed on pause for years. Captured just before that moment of global stillness, this session carries a heightened sense of presence, a final gathering before silence reshaped everything. Recorded in a space more commonly associated with a club atmosphere, the music draws on a different kind of energy and immediacy. With Eliel Lazo unable to attend, the group invited Victor Dybbroe of Girls In Airports to join on percussion, subtly reshaping the ensemble while preserving its core spirit. Part I opens with Steven Jess Borth II calling out on tenor saxophone, answered by Morten McCoy on Wurlitzer electric piano. The piece gradually unfolds into a meditative groove, patient and expansive, carrying the listener through an eight-minute journey of layered rhythm and restraint.

Part II begins with Jonathan Bremer on stand up bass, slowly joined by the rest of the ensemble as each voice enters with intention. Midway through, an unexpected vocal melody from Borth emerges, drenched in reverb and delay, later reappearing as a melodic line on the tenor saxophone.

Part III is led by Morten McCoy on Wurlitzer electric piano. His signature melodic language sets the direction, guiding the ensemble while leaving ample space for the music to breathe and evolve through collective improvisation. Reprise returns to the closing moments of Part II, its title reflecting its origin. The familiar groove reappears, transformed into a distinctly Jamaican-influenced rhythm, over which Borth delivers a final tenor saxophone solo, bringing the conversation to rest.

Any questions about any of these products feel free to get in touch and we'll help you out!

[a] a1. Part I [Vol.2]
[b] a2. Part II [Vol.2]
[c] a3. Part I [Vol.3]
[d] b1. Part II [Vol.3]
[e] b2. Part III [Vol.3]
[f] b3. Reprise [Vol.3]

Grounded in a season of life that has been earned rather than borrowed, Benjamin Tod speaks with the ease of someone no longer running from himself. There is joy now - a steadiness that comes from commitment. With the recent arrival of his son and a deep well of new music on the horizon, Tod is firmly rooted in both purpose and possibility. That clarity is evident in Vengeance and Grace, the Lost Dog Street Band frontman's forthcoming and most expansive solo album to date. Conceived as a "dual-version" release, the project presents two parallel worlds: (Alone) is a stripped solo-acoustic version, along with its full band counterpart.

Together, the two versions form the full range of what Tod is capable of: restraint on one side, force on the other. At the core of Tod's writing is a simple conviction: music should serve something larger than the moment. His writing speaks to mind, body, and soul, shaped by faith, discipline, and a hard-earned understanding of consequence. The darkness that once defined him is neither denied nor indulged. It is understood and no longer in control. Today, Tod moves with a sense of calm that wasn't always there. He is grateful, settled, and intentional, continuing to follow the compass that's guided him from the beginning. Rooted in traditional country and folk, his work stands firmly in the modern music landscape, shaped by experience, restraint, and the life he's built around it.

Melchior Productions Ltd. returns to his own My King Is Light imprint with a brand-new 12″—this time alongside Romanian-Russian pianist-producer Mischa Blanos, one third of the acclaimed Amorf trio, Jupiter Tracks pt. 1 is a beautiful record, deep and emotional, as if beamed in from another world—yes, Jupiter.

Across “Push,” “First Eva,” and “Spirit Of 23,” the pair interlace meticulous programming and crystalline sound design into an ever-shifting strain of minimal house. Dispensing with overt drama, the EP zooms in on nuance: textures flicker between digital shimmer and tactile grit, while Melchior’s trademark restraint leaves ample space for Blanos’s melodic Midas touch to radiate quietly.

Originally released in 2001, Once is the debut album by The Tyde and a quietly influential title from the late-'90s / early-2000s West Coast indie pop scene. Rooted in warm melodic guitars, subtle psychedelic textures, and introspective songwriting, the album occupies a distinctive space between indie pop, folk-rock, and California psychedelia. While never a mainstream release, Once steadily built a loyal following over the years, earning its reputation as a cult classic among fans and collectors. Its understated production, emotional restraint, and timeless melodies have allowed the album to age exceptionally well, making it as relevant today as it was upon release. This 25th anniversary reissue offers a strong opportunity to reintroduce an overlooked catalogue gem to both established fans and new listeners. With the continued demand for high-quality reissues and historically important indie titles, Once fits perfectly within current collector and indie-focused retail trends. The album's enduring appeal, combined with the anniversary context, gives it solid long-term catalogue value beyond initial release interest.

Drawn from the wider Microliths and Momentary Drifts project, this EP finds zak�, Ossa and ASC working in miniature form with signature restraint but real emotional resonance. Each piece functions as a fleeting vignette where tone and texture carry more weight than the structures. ‘Microlith 1’ opens with soft, cascading keys, while ‘Microlith 2’ drifts further into distant, spectral territory. By the time ‘Microlith 8’ arrives, its gentle fade into static leaves a quiet sense of unresolved possibility. It is a concise, thoughtful collection that will have you keen to hear the whole LP.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.

Carve is the second full-length by Bay Area artist Kathryn Mohr. Written over the course of five years and recorded over several weeks in a rural singlewide in the Mojave Desert, the album centers on love experienced as a form of grief, not as an aftermath of loss, but as a condition of intimacy itself.

Mohr describes Carve as an album about how memory exists outside the body, embedded in places and landscapes. It is shaped by her first return to the American Southwest since a childhood road trip at age five, and by the experience of moving through terrain that holds emotional weight long after its origins fade. The record considers how intimacy feels after years of isolation, and what it takes to carve out a life that allows for trust, presence, and feeling rather than mere survival. The project took form after a difficult tour that ended in Joshua Tree. Mohr pointed her car into the desert and drove alone, crisscrossing the Mojave on dirt roads. Months later, she returned to record the album, working alone with an acoustic guitar, a field recorder, and limited supplies. Following that period, Mohr began to allow for intimacy and connection. The time she spent recording Carve in the desert did not create isolation so much as mirror it. Working alone out of an old, western-themed jail Airbnb, the physical enclosure reflected the emotional conditions under which much of the record had been written: distance, restraint, and long stretches of stillness. In that context, love was not experienced as escape, but as something inseparable from impermanence and the awareness of loss.

This tension between connection and inevitability sits at the center of Carve. Some of the album’s songs were written earlier, during a prolonged period marked by emotional distance and apathy. Over those four years, Mohr was working through unprocessed childhood memories and their long-term effects on her ability to connect with others. The work was slow and difficult, involving a fundamental reshaping of how she related to herself and to the world. Carve was mixed by Richard Chowenhill of Flenser labelmates Agriculture. Rather than offering resolution, the album documents the act of remaining present within tension. Carve is not about escaping grief, but about accepting it as inseparable from love itself. Kathryn Mohr’s previous effort “Waiting Room” received the coveted ‘Best New Music' designation and a score of 8.4 from Pitchfork.

Building a temple of sound from reduced elements, Decoder's Alchemy EP on T3R allows selected components to generate a strong and steady drive. Using a distinctly organic sound palette, the tone of the release is wordly, sometimes almost wooden with space taking the role of an active element. When melodies or chords appear, they introduce a subtle sense of melancholy, adding emotional weight without pulling the music away from its physicality. In its unfolding storyline, the EP suggests a broader narrative. While each piece explores a slightly different soundscaping approach, a consistent DNA runs through the release - reinforced by Sanskrit and Hindu references as an underlying conceptual thread. Percussion is handled with precision and imagination: Grooves shift, evolve, and reconfigure. Dark, driving sequences are softened by airy pads and atmospheric layers, creating a dual feeling of intensity and serenity. Filters and reverbs are applied with restraint, giving the music a sense of movement and breath. Alchemy showcases an emerging artistic voice driven by aspiration and exploration. Through confident craftsmanship, genuineness and self-reflection translate into a perfectly balanced, inspiring release. ? 2026 The Third Room Written and Produced by Gautham Gaug Mixdown and Mastering by Ahmet Sisman (The Third Room Studios) Artwork by Daniel Bornmann & Lennard Makosch (STUEDIO.XYZ) Distribution by Clone Pressing by Matter Of Fact

Oliver Koletzki Releases Twelfth Studio Album 12

The beautifully crafted twelve-track opus is out now via Stil vor Talent.
Berlin-based artist, DJ, producer and Stil vor Talent co-founder Oliver Koletzki today releases his twelfth studio album, “12” — a deeply considered, emotionally rich long-player that marks the next chapter in a career spanning more than two decades at the forefront of electronic music. The album is out now on Stil vor Talent in digital formats and as a 2x12” gatefold vinyl.

Serving as both a milestone and a manifesto, “12” distils Koletzki’s evolving sound into its most refined form yet. Across twelve tracks, the album explores atmosphere, restraint and emotional clarity, balancing slow-burning club energy with introspective storytelling. It’s a record shaped by experience, patience and an unwavering attention to detail; qualities that have long defined Koletzki’s output as both an artist and a label curator.

The journey begins with album opener “Petrichor”, a quietly powerful introduction built around wistful organ chords that gradually unfold into a warm, hypnotic groove. Acting as the album’s emotional threshold, the track sets the tone for what follows: music that rewards immersion, thrives on nuance and unfolds with deliberate pace. From there, 12 moves seamlessly between introspective moments and more direct dance floor statements, always guided by Koletzki’s unmistakable melodic sensibility.

Singles released in the lead-up to the album offered carefully sequenced glimpses into its breadth. December’s “Trip With Me”, a collaboration with Frida Darko, brought playful energy and sharp modern club dynamics, while January’s “I Don’t Need Your Love” delivered a confident, emotionally charged statement rooted in Koletzki’s introspective yet club-ready DNA. February’s “Petrichor” revealed the album’s cinematic depth, followed by “Schnapsidee” in March — a track that leans into groove, character and subtle eccentricity.

Elsewhere on the album, tracks like “Logic”, “It’s All Gone” and “Tick Tick” showcase Koletzki’s ability to create tension and release through finely balanced arrangements, while “La Hora de Mosquitos” and “Calle Sur” hint at the global influences that continue to shape his sound. The closing stretch — from “About the Fox and a Tiger” through “What Remains” to “Voice or Noise” (with Frida Darko) — brings the album to a reflective, yet characteristically playful conclusion.

As a whole, “12” feels purposeful and cohesive, guided by a clear narrative arc rather than fleeting trends. It reflects the maturity of an artist with nothing left to prove, yet still driven by curiosity and a desire to evolve. Much like Koletzki’s previous albums, “12” stands as a self-contained world, inviting listeners to step inside and stay.

Released on Stil vor Talent, the album also reinforces the label’s ethos of artistic freedom, quality and long-term vision. Now over 20 years strong, the imprint continues to shape contemporary electronic music while remaining deeply rooted in underground culture: a balance Koletzki himself has embodied throughout his career.

Punctuality presents its ninth release, Night Time, a potent four-tracker from Irish born, Berlin based producer New Members. Positioned on the spriitzzier end of the label’s canon, the record is a refined exercise in restraint, channeling classic, deep leaning house through a starry eyed, nocturnal lens.

The arrangements are unrushed and uncrowded, with each track built from a small selection of elements deployed for maximum impact. Evoking the deep cuts of early Balance and Global Underground mixes, the EP deftly weaves golden era progressive influences with neoteric production aesthetics. The result is polished, punctual tech house for late nights that stretch seamlessly into the morning light.

Title track Night Time carries a closing track sensibility: cute, catchy vocals glide over bubbling synths, blossoming pad washes, and jazzy chord stabs, recalling the finest Canadian Riviera house releases of the late 2010s: Total eyes closed on the dancefloor energy. Whisper In the Dark comes in trackier and toolier, with a rolling bassline resplendent with attitude and key changes, while trance and euro referencing stabs add a subtle touch of euphoria to the late night feel of the track.

Wishing Well maintains the afterhours feel with subtle atmospherics, gentle pads, and dubbed out acid wiggles, while chopped vocals and a pulsing low end push the groove forward. Hovering between genres, the result is a sleek, highly playable track for savvy selectors. The EP rounds off with Jealousy, a moodier affair with a dub techno feel that maintains the restraint New Members demonstrates throughout the release. Echoed whispers, delayed stabs, and a barely audible sub meld with delicate pad work and beguiling FX to striking effect. The piece as a whole is a luscious meditation on the hours after dark before light arrives.

As the EP suggests, this is once again not to be slept on. More A grade material from Punctuality HQ.

For its third release, Honey Trap turns toward the instinctual. Ritmo Animal is a record driven by body memory, where rhythm becomes language and movement becomes communion. Vancouver- and Colombian-rooted duo Dosis weave club music with lived histories, drawing from punk ethics, soundsystem culture, and a deep commitment to collaboration.

Formed by Daniel Rincon and Zachary Treble, Dosis operates in the space between structure and looseness, where grooves feel hand-built and edges remain intentionally rough. Across five tracks, Ritmo Animal resists clean categorization. House mutates into dub-soaked psychedelia, vocals surface and dissolve, and percussion swings between discipline and abandon.

The A-side opens with “I Want To Be Your Dog”, a low-slung, hypnotic burner featuring Alien D, setting the tone through repetition and restraint. The title track, “Ritmo Animal,” anchors the record in motion, with saxophone lines from Dave Biddle threading through percussive momentum and grounding the track in something tactile and human.

On the flip, “Malibu” offers a softer pull, with Hannah Acton’s vocals drifting through warm, unhurried rhythm. “Humo,” featuring Hashman Deejay, leans deeper into smoke and sway, while closer “Sancocho” stretches time entirely, favoring communal simmer over destination.

Ritmo Animal is music made for shared space. It is not concerned with polish or purity, but with connection, between scenes, cities, and bodies on a floor. Another chapter in Honey Trap’s ongoing exploration of intimacy, pleasure, and rhythm as refuge.

In these times of much needed peace, we deliver Paz.

This EP joins the restraint and balance of one of the punchiest and most pragmatic Uruguayan producers at the moment, Arturo Hernzama. His sound is strong and honest, baked with love.

On the B side, we find a more introspective and complex take on dance music by Lightmaker AKA Federico Lijtmaer, who transcends genre to deliver the unique style of music only he can do.

Two sides of the same Uruguayan coin, one carved with love.

‘White Series #4’ marks the debut EP of Marc Feldmann and Dominik André as a producer duo. The record opens with ‘Natural Oscillation’
, a hypnotic techno piece where flowing percussion meets subtle trance influences. ‘A Breeze of Mistral’ builds on this energy with layered repetition and a deep pulse that unfolds gradually, drawing the listener further in. On the flip side, Audrey Danza reinterprets Natural Oscillation with a direct, dancefloor-focused approach. She sharpens the groove, raises the tempo, and pushes the track forward with her signature, driving drums and a tightly locked kick, transforming the original’s hypnotic flow into a no-frills cut. The EP slows the pace with ‘Discernible Rhythms’, a reflective, 80s-influenced synth chugger that adds warmth and restraint to the record. Released as a hand-stamped white label on Subject To Restrictions Discs, White Series #4 reflects and continues the label’s contribution to the more understated forms of electronic club music.

‘Confession' is an album of quiet upheaval. An album about closeness that arrives late and unexpectedly. About stability rubbing up against desire. About the way friendship can suddenly tilt into something charged — and how that charge unsettles everything around it. Where earlier work often observed from a distance, Confession turns inward. The voice is closer, warmer, less shielded. “This wasn’t the album I intended to make,” says Carla dal Forno. “I originally wanted something veiled and abstract, but I realised I couldn’t hide behind abstraction — the songs only worked when I leaned into emotional truth.”

This is dal Forno’s fourth LP, written and recorded over several years in a small country town, in a studio housed inside a partially abandoned hospital. Long corridors, humming lights, emptied rooms — a place built for care and waiting, now quiet enough for thoughts to echo. That stillness shapes the record: intimate, watchful, unadorned. “I live in a small country town that offers a stillness my life didn’t previously have,” she explains. “In that quiet, feelings I might’ve ignored in a busy city grew loud.” Dal Forno sings plainly and conversationally, with an emotional precision that sharpens the everyday into something quietly unsettling.

The album moves through paired states: going out and staying in, wanting and withholding, devotion and distraction. Domestic calm set against private unrest. A long-held relationship offers safety and routine, while a newer connection opens emotional fault lines — longing, jealousy, fantasy, self-exposure. “At the heart of the album is a friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way,” dal Forno says. “That shift brought daydreaming, jealousy, tenderness, confusion, self-awareness — and eventually acceptance.”

The drama here is internal, incremental, lived. Musically, Confession feels lighter on its feet than its subject matter suggests. Melodic basslines anchor the songs while guitars, harmonies, and gently off-kilter rhythms move around them. There’s a looseness, even a playfulness — “like the sensation of tension lifting once you finally admit something to yourself,” as dal Forno puts it. The album traces a subtle arc: attraction blooming where it shouldn’t; obsession quietly taking hold; fantasy overtaking reality; clarity arriving slowly, sometimes painfully. Visually and emotionally, Confession returns to modest spaces: backyards, beds, night streets, overgrown paths. “The record exists in that contrast,” dal Forno reflects. “Peaceful surroundings, unsettled interior.”

Like all of dal Forno’s work, Confession resists clean conclusions. It doesn’t moralise desire or romanticise restraint. Instead, it lingers in the in-between — where love is stable but not total, where yearning teaches as much as it hurts, where solitude becomes a form of care. Plain-spoken but emotionally complex. Rooted and restless. Held together by bass, breath, routine, weather. An album about admitting what you feel —and living with what that admission changes.