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Finally back on tape, officially reissued. Must have! 3 Feet High and Rising is the debut studio album by hip hop trio De La Soul and was released on March 3, 1989 It marked the first of three full- length collaborations with producer Prince Paul, which would become the critical and commercial peak of both parties. Critically, as well as commercially, the album was a success. It contains the singles, "Me Myself and I", "The Magic Number", "Buddy", and "Eye Know". The album title came from the Johnny Cash song "Five Feet High and Rising". It is listed on Rolling Stone's 200 Essential Rock Records and The Source's 100 Best Rap Albums. When Village Voice held its annual Pazz & Jop Critics Poll for 1989, 3 Feet High and Rising was ranked #1. It was also listed on the Rolling Stone's The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. Released amid the 1989 boom in gangsta rap, which gravitated towards hardcore, confrontational, violent lyrics, De La Soul's uniquely positive style made them an oddity beginning with the first single, "Me, Myself and I". Their positivity meant many observers labeled them a 'hippie' group, based on their declaration of the 'D.A.I.S.Y. Age' (Da. Inner. Soul. Yall). Sampling artists as diverse as Hall & Oates, Steely Dan and The Turtles, 3 Feet High and Rising is often viewed as the stylistic beginning of 1990s alternative hip hop (and especially jazz rap).

*MILKY CLEAR VINYL - 300 COPIES ONLY FOR WORLD!!* Technology + Teamwork’s fizzling synths, interweaving textures and punchy rhythms are beguiling on their long-awaited debut album We Used To Be Friends. However, at the heart of it all it’s the connection between the group’s two members, Anthony Silvester and Sarah Jones, the friendship the much-travelled duo have managed to maintain for nearly 15 years and a showcase of the slow-burning construction of the electronic world that they’ve surrounded themselves with. We Used To Be Friends is ultimately the tale of two storied artists in their own right, holding onto each other through personal and career twists and turns, relocations and broader movements through respective phases of their lives. Silvester and Jones first met and then collaborated as part of biting post-punk five-piece XX Teens in 2008, eventually breaking off to forge their own path together even as the latter’s demand as a drummer grew. Performing with everyone from Hot Chip, Harry Styles and Bloc Party among many others, Jones has been a constant percussive presence across the sphere of alternative UK pop music – she’s also found time for her own solo project Pillow Person and played on records by the likes of Puscifer and Kurt Vile. Silvester meanwhile has performed in art galleries across Europe including: Fridericianum in Kassel, Kölnischer Kunstverein in Cologne, and Vleeshal in Middelburg, as well as providing sound design and composing work for several art films. Technology + Teamwork is the constant throughout all of that though. “Technology + Teamwork's name perfectly describes how we work” Silvester explains. “Sometimes the teamwork is between each other and sometimes it’s between us and the technology.” Although going by the name Technology + Teamwork as far back as 2014, two events conspired that pulled the project into focus for the pair of them: firstly, Silvester spent a year constructing a soundproof studio shed on the border of London and Essex where he lives. Secondly, inevitably, the pandemic brought the globe-trotting Jones back home to just seven miles away from her long-time collaborator and friend. “We probably hung out more than we had for a few years” says Silvester. “Also, after all her Pillow Person releases Sarah had gotten really good with recording vocals and knowing what did and didn’t work and had a really good home studio set up. We still worked separately though, exchanging ideas via email and WhatsApp.” As with many artists through 2020 and early 2021, working separately was a new necessity that they were forced to adapt to. However, it became clear that there were creative benefits to it. “It really changed our sound and our sounds became a lot more focused as a result” Jones says. “I wanted to use the same ideas of improvisation that I might use while playing the drums for myself and apply that to melodies and lyrics.” The album bristles with hyperpop modernity. You can hear it in the manipulated vocals most prominently on Big Blue’s disco strut and on Moving Too’s heady mix of pitched up voice and burrowing sub bass. However, the pair also looked to San Francisco and the West Coast synthesis movement of the 60s, Silvester inspired by the likes of Suzanne Ciani and Don Buchla. The plaintive lo-fi and melancholy of Amsterdam incorporates Mutable Instrument’s Marbles by Émilie Gillet which – inspired by Buchla’s own synthesis work – outputs random voltages to give the track an air of unpredictability. It’s something that occurs throughout the album, the duo revelling in the happy accidents that disrupt the flow of their hook-laden pop. “The ‘Buchlian’ ideas of music having randomness and uncertainty, completely freed us up” Silvester explains. “It felt a bit like having more members in the band, machines that didn't do what you expected or intended.” Perhaps more subtly, is the influence of 17th and 18th century Baroque music, with Silvester drawing a line between it and the 90’s R’n’B he and Jones both love – exemplified perhaps best on K+B’s percussive claps and sultry grooves. The portentous juddering synthpop of the title track, meanwhile, alludes specifically to Handel’s Sarabande. It’s typical of an album that only needs a scratch of its seemingly glossy surface to unearth a myriad of contorted touchstones and reference points that’ve fermented beneath it. Thematically there’s an anxious sense to the record, with tracks often balancing above a quiet sense of unerring tension even at their most bombastic. Moving Too is the result of an existential doubt that hit Silvester while out cycling, with the outro refrain "it's not enough to die you also have to be forgotten" a take on something Samuel Beckett once said. These worries are echoed on the album’s closing track What A Year, which borrows a lot of lines from the late drag performer and fashion designer Dorian Corey including the grimly defiant "you're gonna leave your mark somewhere in this world just by getting through it”. Those clouds offer a counter point to We Used To Be Friends, but then isn’t that what great pop albums do? Technology + Teamwork undoubtedly love the craft of the hook and the song, but they always position themselves left of centre, prepared to scuff things up, pull something out of shape or manipulate something to leave it sounding warped. Much like their friendship, nothing here is particularly linear – and it’s all the better for it. Bio: Anthony Silvester & Sarah Jones first collaborated as part of biting post-punk five piece XX Teens in 2008, eventually breaking off to forge their own path together even as the latter's demand as a drummer grew. Performing with everyone from Hot Chip, Bat for Lashes, Harry Styles and Bloc Party (among many others), Jones has been a constant percussive presence across the sphere of alternative UK pop music - she's also found time for her own solo project Pillow Person and played on records by the likes of Puscifer and Kurt Vile. Silvester meanwhile has performed in art galleries across Europe including Fridericianum in Kassel, Kölnischer Kunstverein in Cologne, and Wleeshal in Middelburg, as well as providing sound design and composing work for several art films. Technology & Teamwork is the constant throughout all of that though. "We Used To Be Friends" proves that Technology & Teamwork undoubtedly love the craft of the hook and the song, but they always position themselves left of centre, prepared to scuff things up, pull something out of shape or manipulate something to leave it sounding warped. Much like their friendship, nothing hear is particularly linear - and it's all the better for it.

For more than twenty years, Roel Funcken has been a cornerstone in electronic experimentation. Alongside his brother Don, this Dutch sound sculptor melted hip-hop, industrial and soundscapes under monikers like Funckarma and Shadow Huntaz. A prolific solo musician and collaborator as well, Funcken teams up with Cor Bolten to revive the Legiac project with the eight tracks of Banisteriopsis Caapi. Keys appear through a sorrowful haze in "Mimosa Hostilis", this machined mist difussing as distorted strings penetrate before a dawning of icy brightness. Modulated forms and shapes billow in the bubble and trill of "Pyschotria Viridis" before the orbiting interference and introspection of "Epicatechine." Percussion is reduced to a texture, the duo finding structure in droplets of water, the stretch of steel and a litany of field recordings. The partnership dive deep into their chosen sounds, elongating and expanding tones to find harmony in the absence and isolation that is their focus. Pieces like "Solanaceae" bristle with an understated elegance, like starlight piercing a brooding night sky, while "Banisteriopsis Caapi" finds an eerie solace in its repurposing of voice as an undulating elegy. Legiac achieve a distant intimacy with their listener, a relationship forged through complex compositions, gentle movements and subtle shifts.

Revolver, die die Band 2020 auf ihr Cover setzten, bemerkten, dass AUGUST BURNS RED "den Schmerz so gut annehmen". Eine Wahrheit, die nie offensichtlicher war als auf "Death Below", ihrem atemberaubenden neunten Studioalbum. Aufgenommen mit den langjährigen Produzenten Carson Slovak und Grant McFarland.

Two tracks from Numero’s Eccentric Soul compilation which documented Bob Abrahamian’s passion and devotion to celebrating unknown Chicagoland group harmony music. His untimely passing in 2014 left a huge hole for many music devotees. SO, I CAN MAKE THIS CHANGE was THE KRASH BAND’s only record, it came out in 1976 and is a revered 45 amongst serious collectors. With it’s crisp bass, phased harmonies and the crowning accomplishment, the seraphic falsetto by Evelyn Holder!ONENESS previously known as The Audition’s recorded HARD TO KNOW in 1977 for Cincinnati’s AMG label, alas this sweet harmony jewel never got released and was only heard by those who tuned into Bob’s Sitting in the Park radio shows until the compilation put that to rights.

Please note this song was rescued / restored and there is tape damage in parts.

Bog Bodies - the band consisting of Robert Stillman, Anders Holst and Seán Carpio delve into deep time to carve sonic abstractions across their self-titled new album on MIC.

Navigating the “liminal territory between noise and signal, chaos and control, form and abstraction,” the trio recorded and mixed the album on an

8-track cassette machine. Bog Bodies is a searching inquiry into the mythologies and magical undercurrents that knit together our existence in the information age.

Bog Bodies opens with a leftfield homage to Superman III, exploring the mythical qualities of technology through a series of angular horn lines that dissolve into the mire of feedback noise on the album’s raking, anthemic title track. Reverberating in tectonic sheets of sound on ‘One That Is Reflected In The Image Becomes All’ and Bog Bodies reaches its climax on the 11-minute ‘Cave Painting 2019’ - a subterranean epic of mystic force, drawn up from the earth in sweeping drones.

Bringing together their combined experiences playing with the likes of Manuel Göttsching, Luke Temple, The Smile and more recently Coby Sey.

Reissue of this cult 1972 album which featured on the infamous Nurse With Wound List.

During the long, dark hangover of the Summer of Love, the classically-trained Essex prodigy approached CBS Records with demo recordings. A forward-thinking A&R executive must have seen a potential revenue stream in Don Bradshaw-Leather's avant-classical noise. The artist was given an advance to record an album. He used the funds to create a large studio in Sussex with many instruments including an actual church organ. Here, on his own, without the use of any electronic sequencing, he recorded "Distance Between Us" using simply multitrack tape, layering each part of the composition. Upon hearing the product of their financial investment - four side-long tracks of blurry organ drones, frantic piano tinkling, and ritualistic percussion - CBS got cold feet.

The album was self-released on Bradshaw-Leather's own Distance imprint; a vanity label established for the sole purpose of releasing the album. The sleeve art is full of mysteries, from the misspelling of "Bradshaw" ("Bradsham"), to the coal-blackened visage of the bohemian madman on the cover (DBL himself?), to the rear photo collage depicting the same madman accosting a nude woman. The music isn't any less mysterious; shapeless symphonies of smeared-out Mellotron, tribal drums, and wordless vocals. Don Bradshaw-Leather passed away in the 90's.

Presented in a matt-laminate gatefold digisleeve.

Nico Motte returns to Antinote with his second album ‘The Missing Person’ after his 2015 introductory EP ‘Rheologia’, 2016’s ‘Life Goes On If You Are Lucky’ LP, and 2017’s ‘18 Rays’ EP collaboration with Zaltan and Raphaël Top-Secret. Truly though, Motte never really left, having been the aesthetic eye for each Antinote artwork since day dot. His visual style would prove pivotal to the labels decade long success in the leftfield music underground. But here Motte shows us once again that his skills don’t solely lie in graphic art.

A bandcamp review of Motte’s first LP reads ‘French late seventies synth-laden electronics of avant garde film soundtracks with a touch of early house, minimalism and Balearic…’
‘The Missing Person’ holds true to that balearic core while adding flavours of lollipop dub, sugary synth and Martin Denny-esque Exotica. Synth-Pop from a tropical island. Perhaps The Missing Person here is the album’s protagonist themself, having sailed away from the trivialities of urban life to lay on a white sand beach somewhere warm, drinking fresh coconut water and not giving a shit. A laissez-faire attitude.

Underneath the cool sonic facade of ‘The Missing Person’ Motte effortlessly meanders through pastel sounds drawn from an extensive collection of vintage synthesisers, drum machines and effects units at Synth City. The result: a smooth textured continuous listen of an ear off to somewhere far… island life perhaps? perhaps urban life in need of reprieve.

Full Dose is back! Once again exporting their distinctive brand of mutated dub directly from Glasgow's Southside. The label's 13th release is the work of a new name: Brollachan - "a shapeless darkness that craves bodily form".

As the name would suggest, the music itself evokes a certain eeriness. Brollachan fuses this with the metallic textures and airy rhythms commonly heard on Full Dose records. Tracks like "Hall" could well be written by a smoked-out mythical being, with deep subs and spring reverb-laden tones throughout. Quality stuff.

This juxtaposition of influences continues throughout the release. "Graze" has a particular aquatic feel. Sonar-esque synths punch through the haze and sustained synth sounds keeps the track in midwest territory.

Despite the obvious variety on show here, Brollachan of course keeps fans of the Full Dose sound on-side. "Mad Dawg" is a grimey take on this. General MIDI style sounds appear throughout the intro. This is complimented by intricate drum programming and a growling bassline, to give us a track straight from the 22nd century.

13 releases in and the tight-knit crew behind Full Dose continue to promote a sound that is both unique and reliable - Brollachan is no exception!

Flautist Johanna Orellana teams up with Carmen Villain for a collection of horizontal, pastoral field recordings and close mic-ed flute sounds that zero in on the instrument’s unstable resonance and levitational magic. There’s no cringe virtuoso business or fourth world firewalking here - just sonic purity, sublime minimalism and the precise capture of time, place and poetry.

You might have come across Johanna Orellana before if you’ve listened to Carmen Villain’s music (or seen her perform live), and Villain appears here in a producer’s role, using her engineering expertise to impart a level of restraint and sonic fidelity that’s quite startling. There are only really two central elements to the album: environmental recordings and flute. There’s no psychedelic delay, no cavernous reverb; no audible treatments at all - Orellana and Villain instead force us to consider the flute and its musical lineage.

‘El Jardín I’ introduces the instrument as a physical conduit; Orellana allows her breath to distort the sound - the padded pat pat of the keys forms a kind of rhythm, closely recorded so it’s amplified and jarring, linking to primal wind instruments like conch shells, bamboo flutes and wooden whistles. Recalling the way in which Debit interfaced with the ancient world using AI- assisted tech on last year’s ‘The Long Count’, Orellana uses a comparatively modern contemporary transverse flute, an instrument with roots that stretch back through the baroque era, into Medieval Europe, back to the Byzantine era and into Asia. The component that connects the instruments and eras is breath, and its amplification and modification through differently shaped pipes and vessels.

Orellana lets the environment sing: insects, rushing water and zephyr-like winds form a stage that presents her mortal energy, suggesting a harmony between our use of breath and its environmental ubiquitousness. Her technique is steeped in folk history and decouples itself from expectation by rooting itself in nature. It allows her to bridge the gap between equal temperament and less ordered (less commercially-focused) microtonality without overstating the concept. Other sounds waft in from the sidelines; what might be an Indian bansuri, stray notes, a gust of air.

There’s a link to the foundational new age recordings that Joanna Brouk made with Maggi Payne back in 1980, but Orelanna also absorbs the outdoor folk magic of Fonal or Stroom, and the improvisational grist of Bendik Giske or legendary US horn duo Nmperign.