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One of Jamaica’s most influential vocal groups, revered and imitated by the young Wailers and the Heptones.

Grief doesn’t have an endpoint. No matter how much time passes or how much healing you can muster, the absence stays ubiquitous. But with patience and care, you can endure and live with it. Sour Widows know this. The Oakland-based indie rock outfit was formed in 2017 by bandleaders and best friends Maia Sinaiko and Susanna Thomson during personal upheaval and tragedy: Sinaiko’s partner died and Thomson’s mother was diagnosed with cancer. Their bond and their band anchored them through this time and the songs they wrote processed the death surrounding them. Their debut album Revival of a Friend is resonant indie rock about the spiritually purifying power of connection and love in the face of loss. Across 10 winding and potent guitar-led tracks, they channel their mourning into solidarity and comfort.

January 2023, Dorset. Snow is piled at the door, icy roads are closed, and Emily Cross is in a coffin. Not a setting typical for a rebirth. But for Loma, this is where they bring their band back from the brink. "It's like a demon enters the room, whenever we get together", writer, singer and instrumentalist Cross says of the struggle to bring new Loma music into the world. Following the release of their 2020 second album Don't Shy Away, Loma's three members were cast around the globe and the band-not for the first time-entered a deep sleep. Multi-instrumentalist and recording engineer Dan Duszynski remained in his studio in Don't Shy Away's central Texas heart, but Cross, a UK citizen, moved to Dorset, and writer and instrumentalist Jonathan Meiburg left the US for Germany to research a book. In the pandemic years, even being in the same room was impossible, and attempts to start a new record faltered. The following winter, in an attempt to salvage the record and the band, Cross suggested they regroup in the UK, in the tiny stone house-once a coffin-maker's workshop-where she works as an end-of-life doula. With minimal recording gear and few instruments, Loma turned two whitewashed rooms into a makeshift studio, using a padded coffin as a vocal booth. It was a turning point. They scrapped much of what they'd made, letting a new place set a new course. The one-lane roads, hedgerows and dark skies of Dorset gave the new songs an ineffable but unmistakable Englishness. The band used the ruin of a 12th-century chapel as a reverb chamber-surprising hillwalkers who peeked in to find them singing to no one-and the sounds of Cross's chilly workshop wormed their way into the recording: a leaky pipe, a drummer's brushes on a metal lampshade, the voices left on an ancient answering machine. What emerged was How Will I Live Without A Body?: a gorgeous, unique, and oddly comforting album about partnership, loss, regeneration, and fighting the feeling that we're all in this alone. Many of its songs have a feeling of restless motion; faceless characters drift through meetings and partings, tangling together and slipping away. "I Swallowed A Stone" is like a nightmare with a happy ending; "How It Starts" and "Broken Doorbell" reflect on the challenge (and necessity) of wrestling with agoraphobia. Though the record nods to the trio's separate lives- a German percussion ensemble, a pair of Texan owls, and the surf at Chesil Beach make guest appearances-the core of Loma's sound remains intact: earthy, organic and deeply human, anchored by Cross's cool, clear voice. Loma's previous album, Don't Shy Away, was galvanized by the unexpected encouragement and contributions of Brian Eno. This time, they found inspiration in another hero, Laurie Anderson, who offered a chance to work with an AI trained on her entire body of work. Meiburg sent her a photo from his book-in-progress about the once and future life of Antarctica; Anderson's AI responded with two haunting poems. "We used parts of them in a few songs," he says. "And then Dan noticed that one of its lines, 'How will I live without a body?' would be a perfect name for the album, since we nearly lost sight of each other in the recording process." In the end, Loma's efforts to reconnect with one another are the album's central focus: what do you owe a shared past, when everyone and everything has changed? "Making this record tested us all," says Duszynski. "I think that feeling was alchemized through the music." Alchemized, because How Will I Live Without A Body? is by no means a stressed-out record: an undercurrent of deep calm runs through it. But maybe 'relaxed' isn't the right word. It's more like a feeling of relief, of making it through a tough journey together.

The new album from Lebanese-American musician Solpara, Melancholy Sabotage, marks his full length debut and return to Nicolas Jaar's Other People label. While it was recorded over Covid lockdowns, Jaar had been talking about wanting to back a Solpara full-length since he put out Swing. The album came to life while Solpara was living alone in a Brooklyn loft, collecting unemployment checks and viewing ample free time as the artist residency he'd dreamed of; he'd previously been forced to make music in odd windows between numerous jobs and the unmerciful pace of city life. Free from obligations, he would wake up early to take Arabic lessons online, read Tracey Thorn's autobiography, and skateboard the deserted streets, then come home and design sounds until he had a track that felt like it needed to be released. While this easy going lifestyle was peaceful in many ways, Solpara found more complex inspiration in the emotion that stemmed from participation in Black Lives Matter protests and the 2020 Beirut Port explosion, which rocked all of his extended family members in Lebanon.

Melancholy Sabotage explores the theme of sabotaging melancholy. Echoing sounds from the post-punk, trip-hop, and ambient genres, it is about sabotaging the cycle of melancholy and looking at this process without ignoring the sources that put it into motion. It may be compared to a rattling breaking free from retention, reaching states of dreamy euphoria while simultaneously acknowledging the sources of retention, viewed from above. The sources can be personal, political, or socio-economic. They are to be apprehended post-melancholy, after the sabotaging of the initial cycle of melancholy. In other words, it is about transcending melancholy and understanding where it came from with some distance. It may be beautiful and healthy to feel for a while, but how may one sabotage this cycle when it becomes paralyzing? Ultimately, this album is about feeling melancholy but also resisting it and naming the sources that initiated it.

"Time To Hold Better" points to neglect on both personal and group levels. "This Time Last Year" is a personal time capsule. "We Keep Us Safe" is about solidarity, autonomy, and care witnessed within protest groups. "Melancholy Sabotage" is a sonic exploration of the album concept illustrating anger and sadness, but finally, resistance and liberation from these feelings. "Measures" is a more fluid exploration of the latter after the initial storm has passed. "We Don't Owe" points to bigger bodies inflicting harm on populations that we owe nothing to. "Breaking Points" harkens the times that we may lose focus while pushing to transcend melancholy. "Eviction" is about being pushed out of a space unwillingly while simultaneously being forced to move forward.

Melancholy Sabotage pulls from a range of genres, uniting electronic sounds under the same post-punky glow. It pulls from complex, heavy themes including damage and injustice, presenting Solpara's most moving body of work to date. It highlights the poignance that has always been at the heart of his fluid sound, which caters to dancefloors and avant-garde spaces in equal measure. Working with a mix of dissonant guitars, distorted drum machines, and distant, reverb-washed vocals, Melancholy Sabotage is Solpara's uneasiest outing to date. The record pinpoints the duality at the heart of Solpara's sound, which is as plaintive as it is searing.

The long running vessel for Cameron Stallones' psychedelic excursions, Sun Araw, returns to Discrepant after last year's split with Tarzana via Keroxen sister label (KRXN033).
Without much precedent in his own - already wide-ranging - back-catalog, 'Cetacean  Sensation' discards the dubby vibes, psych-rock sunburnt jams, tropical visions, or stalking sensibilities of such classic efforts as 'On Patrol' or 'Ancient Romans' towards a deeply focused and vivid solitary approach, while still retaining this Sun Araw blissed out escapist feeling.
Composed of hydrophone recordings of whales and dolphins sourced during a summer in Galicia, 'Cetacean Sensation' paints an impressionistic and sensory floating canvas that expertly escapes both academic-like documentarian purposes and any new-age spa vibrations one could associate with such subject matter. Processing those raw recordings into alluring collages that flow gracefully between moments of clear eco-location  and submerged impressions of wildlife social dynamics. By the third track - Dance of the Minke - we're introduced to this ringing MIDI tone that evokes a CD-ROM era of mystic educational programs and click-and-deploy strategies  that still feel very much like an unfulfilled future, conjured again by 'Spider Crab Elegy's sparse keyboard pads and sound effects that give way to this properly elegiac tentative melody. 'The Spider Crab Point' ends the album on a more uneasy vibe, with synth tones pointing towards no particular direction, confounding and strangely inviting at the same time. As sensations often do.
Music written and produced by Cameron Stallones using hydrophones and digital synthesisRecorded in 2019 in Galicia, ES
Mastering by Rashad Becker

Two years after the release of the Polarius EP Inner Voices Of A Clown, Danny Wolfers returns to Altered Circuits, this time under his best-known alias Legowelt, for Ruins Of Cracktopolis: a collection of "hymns to survive the dystopian circus of today's techno scene" in the artist's own words. On Do You Know Who You Never Be, a short staccato lead and dark chords revolve around a monolithic kick drum pattern that takes care of the cadence and bass. A mysterious vocoder and a laser sequence that gets torn and twisted to the max join, but the track never loses its steady pace - it gets help from shakers so much mixed to the front they could be lifted from a B'more track.

Amidst the effervescing 303 lines and bold drum sequences of In A Trance Dance All Night" Wolfers finds a canvas for a stretched synthesizer jam with eighties breaking allure. This melody, together with the pads and vocal, are drenched in reverb - they float like mist ascending from the The Hague dunes. Throughout Ruins Of Cracktopolis, more vintage Dutch West Coast, the hiss-laden broken beat that guides the bass sequences and ominous blippy synth patterns switches to a 4/4 structure and back. These make for captivating shifts in pace while the minor progressions continue unfolding. Like Twin Peaks targets prime energy once the arpeggiator sequence present from the start lowers an octave. The track runs smooth like a pomade slick-back; it's only tempered slightly when the crunchy kick and tom change place for a moody chord sequence break. Even if these four tracks target the club, they are equally suited for - quoting Wolfers again - "leisurely home listening". Their greatest strengths are, as so often, their melodic aspects.

The artist is known to be a synthesizer aficionado, but his unique personal touch immediately shines through no matter which gear he works with. The machines never seem to dominate the composing process; quite the opposite: it's as if he isn't programming or registering as much as trying to teach them his take on electronic music.

High Roller Records, deluxe plastic bag, cardboard insert, handnumbered, ltd 500, mastered for vinyl by Patrick W. Engel at Temple of Disharmony

Through the folded sky to America

Ten albums in three years. That's still the cosmic mission of the Berlin post-kraut trio YELKA with Daniel Meteo, Christian Obermaier, and the namesake Yelka Wehmeier.

With the album "For," there was a Label change. After releasing three albums in 2023 with Maurice Summen, head of Fun In The Church they passed the label responsibilities to Karaoke Kalk. Karaoke Kalk is a friendly label founded in Cologne known for establishing the Berlin post-wende scene (fall of the wall scene).

The trio's fourth album was also created with Arne Berger at Popschutz Studio, and the team is definitely well-rehearsed. Instead of recording the planned tracks, the band decided to improvise the session, and all tracks, except for the krauty Doors cover "The Crystal Ship," were created in 5 days in the studio, mostly on the first or second take, but with significantly more overdubs - keyboards, backing vocals, second and third guitars, percussion, and piano. The sound of "For" has become warmer, and the album begins with a kind of 60s-Kinks feeling. Overall, the current record has become much more exuberant - like Alice in Wonderland, YELKA seem to want to restore innocence to things in the opener "Smile (Into Skies)," resulting in an uplifting hiking song for experimental outdoor bohemians.

The follow-up piece "The Boar" speaks to everyone from the north, south, west, and east and here YELKA encounter a horde of wild boars on their travels, before the vocals become hardly understandable and ghostly spooled in reverse, suddenly sounding like Damo Suzuki from CAN at the height of Tago-Mago times.

Finally, YELKA‘s "Crystal Ship," simply sails away with the wild boars into remote 4D worlds between the Cocteau Twins and X-Mal Deutschland.

In the first instrumental of the album "Is this enough?", the band reverse tracks like Jimi Hendrix in his Electric Ladyland, and we dive deeper and deeper into the endless sky until YELKA finally arrive on newly trodden sound paths with "MM" to their beginnings on their debut album "Nowhere Jive." At the popular intersection of post-rock and jazz, where guest singer Bela Hagel also likes to linger for a moment: "Sie wissen" (They know), he knows that too! Surely Rolf-Ulrich Kaiser would have had a lot of fun with his shamanistic singing on his "Kosmische Kuriere" label. The guitars sound like a desert, and the reverb reminds us of the expansive space in the opening track "Skies."

Finally, we land in Amerika, or rather, YELKA ponder the melancholic question of whether anyone still wants to travel to America with them, to the land of unlimited possibilities, the haven for artist souls all over the world. "Do you wanna dance?" Yelka Wehmeier finally asks, while a chorus in the best Sun Ra manner mantra-like repeats "Cold dogs, cool cats." The whole band sings. Everything sounds good.

Kaipa sind zurück! Im Sommer 1964 begann die musikalische Karriere von Hans Lundin, als er Mitglied seiner ersten Band als Organist und Sänger wurde. Er sagt, dass die folgenden Jahre "die beste Ausbildung waren, die ich je bekommen konnte". Neun Jahre später, 1973, gründete er die Gruppe KAIPA. Jetzt, 60 Jahre nach Beginn seiner Karriere, sind er und seine aktuellen Bandkollegen Per Nilsson, Jonas Reingold, Darby Todd, Patrik Lundström & Aleena Gibson stolz darauf, die Veröffentlichung von Kaipas 15. Studioalbum "Sommargryningsljus" (Summer Dawn Light) anzukündigen. "Eine flüsternde Morgendämmerung, die Sonne ist auf dem Weg, um einen brandneuen Tag aus den Schatten der Nacht zu eröffnen", heißt es zu Beginn des Songs "Songs in Our Hands". Das Thema der Morgendämmerung lag Hans Lundin in seinem Songwriting schon immer sehr am Herzen. Auf seinem selbstbetitelten Debütalbum, das 1975, also vor 49 Jahren, erschien, schrieb er darüber in dem Lied "Se var morgon gry". Auch in den Liedern "Dagens port" und "Visa i sommaren" auf den folgenden Alben kehrte er zu diesem Thema zurück. Mit dem neuen Album schließt er den Kreis und kehrt dorthin zurück, wo alles begann. "Sommargryningsljus" enthält acht Stücke, die eine nächtliche Reise von der Abenddämmerung bis zum Morgengrauen darstellen, wobei die ersten beiden Stücke die Dämmerung und die letzten beiden die Morgendämmerung repräsentieren. Diese nächtliche Odyssee kann als Metapher für den Zustand zwischen Tod und Wiedergeburt oder als Allegorie des Lebens in umgekehrter Reihenfolge betrachtet werden.

French saxophonist Musina Ebobissé unveils ARMAUN, his third release under the Blendreed name. ARMAUN – Ambient Resistance Music Against Urban Noise – takes a stand against the interference of invasive irritants with sublime slow motion music. Its four pieces evoke an ecstatic peace, allowing both artist and listener to breathe deeply. As the compositions unfold, each exhalation resonates at the frequency of the human mind in repose.

Layers of treated and reverberant saxophone fuse into a hypnagogic whole, as elongated melodies interact with their own fragmented and transformed echoes. In a semi dream state, existence is experienced at a languid pace, as each phrase decays into a haze of crosscurrents.

If ARMAUN recalls the fourth world music of Jon Hassell and Eno, it equally finds oblique kinship with André 3000's "New Blue Sun". Likewise, it shares essential DNA with vaporwave and the tape-loop experiments of Terry Riley. Conceived as a confluence of acoustic and electronic elements, Blendreed explores the intersection of jazz, ambient, post-rock and experimental music.

This is work of exquisite beauty with a direct function. It provides an antidote to the bombardment of our senses. After unhooking your mind from temporal entanglements, ARMAUN will absorb your soul.

Drag City is excited to present the first ever vinyl pressing of guitarist Lee Underwood"s under-sung 1988 acoustic guitar opus, California Sigh. Guitarist Lee Underwood"s syncretic blend of jazz, folk, and blues was a tremendous force behind Tim Buckley"s genre-stretching late 60s/early 70s music - but his 1988 acoustic guitar opus California Sigh has remained a unsung footnote to his story. Until now! This first time vinyl-edition reveals Lee"s free-floating acoustic moods, with synths and co-production from ambient avatar Steve Roach, as a soulful work of tranquility and transcendence. In the years following the release of California Sigh, Lee wrote and recorded two solo piano CDs, Phantom Light and Gathering Light. Additionally, he wrote Blue Melody: Tim Buckley Remembered, a memoir of their time together, as well as three books of poems, Timewinds (2010), Diamondfire (2016) and Into Light (Poetic Matrix Press, 2021). He continues to live in Northern California.

Following a 21-year hiatus since their last album release, UK-industrial-metal pioneers KILL II THIS return with a new album, Variant. KILL II THIS guitarist Mark Mynett spoke about the album title and artwork: "We originally had a much more complicated title for the album but the Variant title came about during the Covid lockdown period. It also echoes previous KILL II THIS album titles, especially 'Deviate,' and the roman numeral V signifies that this is the fifth album. The artwork was created by Andy Pilkington at Very Metal Art and we are delighted with what he has come up with. There are some really clever touches and the detail is incredible. We've recorded a very strong album with Variant and it needed powerful artwork to match."

The music industry, once revered as a realm of artistic expression and creativity, has gradually transformed into a breeding ground for commercial nonsense. The rampant commercialization of music has resulted in an environment where genuine talent often takes a backseat to profit-driven motives. It’s high time we unmask and challenge the prevailing commercial bullshit that plagues the music scene today.

In the midst of all this commercial nonsense, it’s essential to recognize that there is a thriving underground and independent music scene where authenticity and creativity still flourish. Listeners can play a vital role in reshaping the music industry by supporting independent artists, seeking out diverse sounds, and rejecting the homogenized offerings of major labels.

To combat the commercial bullshit in the music scene, we must prioritize artistry over profit, diversity over uniformity, and creativity over conformity. Only by championing these values can we hope to revive the music industry as a bastion of authentic expression and genuine talent, free from the shackles of commercial exploitation.