Search:revelations

Rilo Kiley was born from hunger, from the insatiable desire to write one’s own story. The band’s origins can be traced back to Los Angeles in the late 1990s, when Jenny Lewis and Blake Sennett discovered a shared songwriting obsession and began performing together. After some starts and stops, a band was formed with Pierre “Duke” de Reeder playing bass. They called themselves Rilo Kiley, borrowing a name that came to Sennett in a dream.

For their second record, Rilo Kiley headed to Nebraska to record with Bright Eyes’ Mike Mogis alongside new drummer Jason Boesel. Here, Lewis truly becomes a generational songwriter, spinning interior mysteries regarding romance, depression, trauma, hope, and isolation into cathartic revelations. The Execution of All Things was a triumphant arrival.

Originally released in 2002, the celebrated and beloved album The Execution of All Things is a hallmark of indie rock. Hailed by fans and critics alike as an essential component to any record collection.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

After a 30-year interstellar silence, the enigmatic producer Alien Signal—pioneering alias of Italian electronic composer Alex Silvi—reemerges with Whispers from Distant Suns, a transcendent odyssey that bridges retro-futurism and modern electronica. Hailed as a magnum opus, this album transcends genre boundaries, captivating ambient purists, downtempo aficionados, and even experimental listeners with its hypnotic fusion of analog warmth and digital precision.

Cosmic Tapestry of Sound
Drawing comparisons to Vangelis’ Antarctica and Alpha—but reimagined through a 21stcentury lens—Whispers from Distant Suns marries nostalgic synth textures with cuttingedge production. Silvi’s mastery of melody shines through in tracks like “Stardust
Memories” and “Fragile Eden” where shimmering arpeggios and celestial pads drift over robotic, glitch-infused drum patterns and sparse, meditative percussion. The result is a paradox: a retro-futuristic soundscape that feels simultaneously ancient and alien, familiar yet unexplored.

Listener Testimonials
Fans and critics have flooded forums with praise:

“An auditory revelation! It’s like Vangelis met Jon Hopkins in a nebula—vintage soul with a futuristic heartbeat.”
“The textures are gorgeously cinematic. Closing your eyes, you’re adrift in a Tarkovsky film scored for the Andromeda galaxy.”

The Vinyl Experience
Pressed on heavyweight vinyl, the album’s physical release amplifies its immersive qualities. The gatefold sleeve, adorned with surrealist astrophotography and metallic
foiling, mirrors the music’s cosmic ethos. Side A leans into Balearic serenity, with sundappled grooves and aquatic synth ripples, while Side B delves into darker, more
experimental terrain—think Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works colliding with the organic rhythms of Jon Hopkins.

Maturity in Motion
This album is a testament to Silvi’s evolution. Tracks like “Seeds Of Light” and “Message from Andromeda Galaxy” showcase his refined ear for dynamics, balancing silence and sound with surgical precision. Vintage drum machines spar with glitches, while field recordings of crashing waves and interstellar static blur the line between Earth and cosmos. The closing track, “The Star Charts We Shared” crescendos into a 6-minute ambient requiem, leaving listeners suspended in a state of weightless awe.

Final Transmission
Whispers from Distant Suns is more than an album—it’s a transcendent odyssey. Spanning time, space, and the artist’s own creative evolution, this immersive work invites listeners to lose themselves in its ebb and flow. Designed for moments both intimate and expansive, its balearic-tinged atmospheres resonate equally through dawnlit Mediterranean terraces or the solitary glow of headphones in darkness. These are compositions that pulse, morph, and haunt the air long after the final note fades. A living soundscape meant to accompany life’s quiet revelations and clandestine joys—a soundtrack to your most personal moments, crafted as what the artist calls ‘private dance music.’

Tailored for the Discerning Listener
Whispers from Distant Suns is designed with the true connoisseur in mind. This album is a must-have for:

Vinyl Collectors & Audiophiles: Those who value the warmth and tactile experience of heavyweight, limited edition pressings
Electronic Ambient and Downtempo Fans: Listeners who appreciate immersive soundscapes that merge retro analog charm with modern digital innovation.
Retro-Futurism Enthusiasts: Fans of pioneering artists like Vangelis, Boards of Canada, and early Warp Records who seek music that bridges nostalgic synth textures with futuristic experimentation.
Experimental Music Explorers: Individuals drawn to sonic narratives that invite deep, contemplative listening—perfect for both introspective moments and immersive listening sessions.
This release is not just an album; it’s a curated experience for those who desire music as a multidimensional art form, merging the vintage allure of analog sound with a contemporary, cosmic vision.

For fans of: Vangelis, Biosphere, Jon Hopkins, early Warp Records.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Lucien Kimono fully composed the original soundtrack for Season 2 of Amours Solitaires, which aired on Arte and France TV in November.

Initially a popular Instagram account before becoming a French Euphoria-style drama, the series follows the romantic wanderings of its young protagonists. From ultra-modern synthetic arpeggios to warm, nostalgic Rhodes melodies, 18 tracks map out their joys, sorrows, and orgasms.

The Durutti Column, Linda Perhacs, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Judee Sill. Hello and welcome to Decide Which Way The Eyes Are Looking, the new record by Lina Tullgren. It is a deeply gorgeous intervention, a carefully ornamented dilemma, the most inviting crisis. Made with a host of Los Angeles musicians, Decide exposes Tullgren's daring and trust. Each song is a ring of curious sound: the skip of harp strings, the flutter of woodwinds, the ratchet of percussion, the euphonium's sigh. And at the center of each wreath, Tullgren sings, finding this space between Judee Sill and Sam Jayne. It's a tone that signals weariness, but a weariness hand-in-hand with tenacity. There's a clarity, a kind of immovability. Lina Tullgren's first record came in 2016, a homemade, under-the-skin set of laments. Subsequent LPs and constant touring cemented Tullgren's reputation as a composer of "wide-eyed wonder paired with a resonant despair." 2019's Free Cell showed Tullgren lingering in the margins of their songs, finding places both aloof and spare. Floodgates opened; Tullgren spent the subsequent years exploring deep listening, improvised music, and extended technique. They developed a patience and faith in cooperation that ranged at the far edge of song. Collaborations with Mayo Thompson and Claire Rousay furthered this development. This was not a break with the past for Tullgren, rather it was an opportunity to see how far a song could go. And from that distance, deep in a landscape of drone and tension, Tullgren returned to the bright vulnerability of a lyric and a hook. Weaving together the affective and the radical, Tullgren took the quiet isolation of a shoreline cabin to write the songs that would become Decide Which Way The Eyes Are Looking. For Tullgren, Decide is a culmination of all the work they've done throughout their life: the melodic, the dense, the confessional, the unknowable. It's also a tribute to collaboration. Describing the sessions as having "a lot of space and a lot of ease,"" Tullgren invited musicians from a vast field of songmaking to play on the recording: Leng Bian, Zach Burba, Luke Csehak, Corey Fogel, Jenny Hirons, Tara Milch, Tim Ramsey, Michael Sachs, Jude Tedaldi, Marta Tiesenga and Ben Varian. Jonny Kosmo's backhouse was offered as a cozy, easygoing space for the players to create their parts together, and the record was completed by Tullgren and Luke Csehak together at their Los Angeles home. In Tullgren's words: "I feel really strongly that this album is a portrait of the community I found in Los Angeles." Decide Which Way The Eyes Are Looking is a quiet masterpiece: a generous, memorable journey. It is the result of five years of labor, the product of abandoning the pop song entirely and starting over. Whatever wanderings or doubt fueled it, Decide is also entirely at ease: a record on which Tullgren sings "and I know/what to do now" and "I know exactly what to do" in subsequent songs, clear in the revelations this path has given the

This Is DJs Choice Vol. 4 brings you a great selection of Funk, Soul, Latin and Hip Hop.

Five years after the last installment of the series, Volume 4 is compiled by Gu, a long-time friend and DJ partner of Unique label founder Henry Storch, and the tracks represent the two decades they have known each other and played records together, as well as the music they enjoyed.

All choices are originally 7 Inch records from Gu's crates put together like a DJ-Set for you to enjoy: The Soul of The Sweet Vandals and Carlton Jumel Smith, the Deep Funk of Naomi Davis & The Knights Of Forty First Street, The Supersonics and Sharon Jackson & The Soul Destroyers, the Latin sounds of Diesler and Eli Goulart E Banda Do Mato and the Hip Hop grooves of Jay Are (aka J.Rawls and John Robinson), The Bamboos featuring Ohmega Watts and Daddy-O of Stetsasonic.

This compilation is a celebration of music from beginning to end.

About This Is DJs Choice:

The series started as a friendship project by Henry Storch, who wanted to immortalise friends and allies from the DJ scene, who picked vinyl as their format of choice. The genre didn't matter, as long as the vibe was right. In 2008 Vol. 1 featured a selection of organic Club Sounds and Break Beats put together by Soulinus & Pun, followed by Keb Darge & Lucinda Slim and their favorite Rhythm & Blues, Rockabilly and 60s Soul tunes on Vol. 2 in 2009. In 2019 Les Intouchables aka Marc Hype and DJ Suspect presented a variety of funky and soulful music with an addition of the occasional Boogie, Reggae and Hip Hop track.

About Gu:

Gu is a DJ, musician, label owner, producer, writer and producer from Northern Germany. His dedication to music started in his pre-teens in the late eighties and he is playing vinyl ever since. Over the years he has worked with a number of his favorite DJs and artists like Keb Darge, Andy Smith, Snowboy, The New Mastersounds, Osaka Monaurail, The Sweet Vandals, The Allergies, Andy Cooper of Ugly Duckling, Daddy-O of Stetsasonic and Chuck D of Public Enemy to name a few. His DJ career took him all over Europe again and again.

In 2005 he started Our Label Records with his brother Tom to release new Funk music on 7 Inch vinyl and added the Hip Hop 45 imprint Origu in 2015. Since 2009 and he is on air every week with his radioshow Home Diggin', which was also picked up by Chuck D's Rapstation in 2019. Additionally he is lead singer/rapper for the Songcore duo Sorry We're Closed and the Hip Hop outfit Alder Ego. He also does readings of his book of one-liners and competing on Slam Poetry stages.

2024 Re-Edition

Strangelove's personal Inventory of NZ 1980's odd pop; 'Kiwi Animals' recasts the local charts in a parallel universe of misfit melodics, gonzo-tronics & strange waves. Channelling South Pacific voodoo and edge of world melancholia, the album highlights electronic tangents from iconic NZ groups Blam Blam Blam & Headless Chickens. It dredges the cassette revelations of art avante-gardists' Drone & Kim Blackburn, alongside bittersweet moments from Rupert & Norma O'Malley. There's the infectious minimal wave of Ballare and a reprised electro-boogie dance suite (?!) from Tom Ludvigson & Graeme Gash. The furthest depths of Flying Nun's catalog are also plundered- a brilliant earworm from Stiff Herbert and a mysterious "Roger" Knox birthday promo. Mining disparate seams of a local indie label awakening, the various tangents of 'Kiwi Animals' congeal with a future/primitive sensibility and an underlying Antipodean mischievousness…

"Mountain Music is Nina Nesbitt as fans have never heard her before. Having risen to fame at a young age with her disarming, candid pop – the Scottish musician is now found in an entirely new realm. It is inspired in part by the two years she spent touring the States in support of her second studio album: the critically acclaimed Top 40, The Sun Will Come Up, The Seasons Will Change, which has now accrued over a billion streams. These songs are permeated with gorgeous nods to US folk and Americana. It’s made all the more extraordinary by the face that, not long ago, Nesbitt was considering quitting music altogether. Produced by Peter Miles and Nesbitt, mixed and mastered by Miles at his stunning studio MiddleFarm in south Devon, and released via her own label, Apple Tree Records. A playful nod to her 2012 debut EP, TheApple Tree, this marks the start of an exciting new era for Nina Nesbitt. While it might sound strange that Nesbitt was drawn to the music of Appalachia, heard echoing through the vast, verdant mountain ranges of the eastern United States, it makes more sense when you consider how traditional Scottish ballads and hymns are threads in that rich tapestry.

Empathy is one of Nesbitt’s greatest strengths. We hear it on “Painkiller”, a Joni Mitchell-indebted ballad on which her heart breaks for the men who believe they have to suppress their own feelings. One of the album’s standout qualities is, perhaps, the dynamic that Nesbitt creates from one song to the next. Where many folk artists might lean into quiet introspection, she craves the full spectrum of emotion – so ensconced around “Painkiller” you have the tender “On the Run’, with its distant shivers of percussion and crystalline piano, but also “Anger”. She’s in a nostalgic mood on the rousing “Coming Home”, a Springsteen-inspired, driving-with-the-top-down journey back to the places and people she loves. We all lose ourselves sometimes. The trick is learning how to find our way back, pushing those clouds away to see the blue skies beyond. For artist Nina Nesbitt, hard-hitting truths and revelations take precedent on her remarkable, career-best album, Mountain Music. Nesbitt knows exactly who she is, and now, she’s ready to tell the world."

Italian-Austrian sound poet & vocalist NicoNote (Music From Memory, Mille Plateaux,Rizosfera, Rough Trade) presents new album ‘REGOLA’ A suite in nine movements inspired by the mythic medieval composer Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) (RIYL Björk, Anohni, Meredith Monk, Elizabeth Fraser, Lena Platonos, Anna Caragnano & Donato Dozzy) An ambitious, conceptual work of hypnotic, immersive electronics & transcendent, experimental vocals, exploring the enduring influence of the polymathic German saint & philosopher.

Nine visionary and ritualistic soundscapes harnessing the voice as an instrument of transcendent expressive power; a visceral, timeless exploration of human nature. ‘REGOLA’ (Italian for ‘RULE’) is a record that calls for a contemplative form of deep listening, a time-dilating experience in which the polyphonic voices of NicoNote ascend, opening up a portal into an archaic, eternal past, where lost sounds coalesce with future revelations.

Cryptic Hatred was formed in 2019 by four friends bound together by their mutual passion for music and death metal. In summer 2020 they quickly released their first demo Free from the Grave to positive international feedback. The demo then received a CD release from the US-based Desert Wastelands label, as well as a release in Europe via Finland-based The Other Records. Soon after, the debut album Nocturnal Sickness dropped in early 2022 (again via The Other and Desert Wastelands), elevating the band to even greater standing in the global death metal underground. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive from both the fans and the metal media, highlighting the leaps the band made in terms of both musicianship and songwriting. Nocturnal Sickness sold over 1000 physical copies and streamed over 100 000, with high praise coming from metal press (such as the esteemed US metal magazine Decibel). The songs on Nocturnal Sickness were notably in the vein of classic Florida death metal - but it also had moments of unhinged melody and savagery which highlighted the band's movement towards their own, identifiable sound. "Internal Torment" is a testament to Cryptic Hatred's ability to craft music that speaks to the soul. It is an invitation to explore the shadows within, to confront the demons that lurk in the recesses of the mind. With each listen, new revelations await, making this album a haunting journey of self-discovery. Prepare to be spellbound by the subtle intricacies of "Internal Torment," as Cryptic Hatred invites you to lose yourself in the haunting beauty of their mesmerizing cryptic metal sound.

"Even God Has A Sense Of Humor" is the long-awaited follow up album to Maxo's critically acclaimed 2019 release Lil Big Man. Across the 14-tracks, Even God Has A Sense Of Humor pays tribute to the mercurial nature of life and includes features from Liv.e, keiyaA, LastNameDavid, and Melanie Charles along with the previously released singles "Free!," produced by Dev Morrison and "48," produced by Madlib and featuring Pink Siifu. The FADER recently sat down with Maxo to discuss the album, which they described as having "a defiant glow, like a bronze statue still standing after an intense tornado."

Born Maxamillian Allen, Even God Has A Sense Of Humor finds Maxo earnest, full-hearted, and lyrically agile. His delivery punches as he poetically unpacks the trials and blessings that have marked the last three years since Lil Big Man, his stirring and meditative debut album. “Life is always gonna be life-ing,” Maxo says, speaking to the spiritual lessons that inspired this new project and an album process that has revealed to him the many ways in which he’s divinely protected.

The album’s striking cover features three casted sculptures of Maxo by legendary NYC-based artist artist John Ahearn, photographed by the rapper’s friend Steven Traylor. The image both preceded the music and set the tone for the record’s overall aura. Experiencing the casting process—which required long periods of stillness for form, and breathwork to avoid claustrophobia—became a metaphor about ego death for Maxo. “I had to go to a space where I was just not there,” he says. As the molding was poured over his body and the voices of those in the room became distant, Maxo’s inner world came into focus. “By the time it hardened, it seemed like the sculpture had risen to be 20 feet above where it was first— almost like it grew tall,” he explains. EGHASOH, in its aural ebbs and flows, honest questioning, profound revelations, and elegant verse, is Maxo standing spiritually tall following a period of challenges with family and friends.

Maxo’s writing process has always been rooted in imagery, observation, and capturing moments. Growing up in Southern California, Maxo spent a lot of time combing through old family photo albums, some of whose contents have become the artwork for prior releases. But his fascination with visual memento is less about nostalgia or remembering, and more about exploring concepts of growth, healing, and cycles. His artistry is intentional and deeply sensitive: “If I’m not feeling it, I’m not gonna record.” While his past records openly grappled with emotional turbulence, anger and depression, EGHASOH is Maxo’s acceptance stage: “I can't really judge nothing. I can't sit up and be mad at shit because everything is, everything is kind of coexisting,” he says.

Musically, EGHASOH is an impressive evolution from Maxo’s earlier, unornamented lo-fi projects. With an emphasis on jazzy instrumentalism and soothing, intricate vocals from both the artist and featured chanteueses Liv.e, Melanie Charles, and keiyaA, EGHASOH is a welcome and beautifully complex sonic effort. Its contributors include a range of musicians: Pink Siifu, LastNameDavid, Madlib, GrayMatter, Karriem Riggins, Beat Butcha, Lance Skiiiwalker, and more. The album was executive produced by Mount Kimbie’s Dom Maker.

“Nobody talks about the fact that we’re changing as we get older... Everybody just acts like you supposed to know,” Maxo says on album standout, “Face of Stone”. It's moody bassline meets a cinematic accordion melody that paradoxically both broods and uplifts—a fitting production choice that mirrors the song’s story. “I’m seeing how this world is chipping you and withering your bones,” Maxo says. “I’m talking about myself, talking about my bro. But it’s never nothing you gonna do that’s a one stop shop in this life. You gotta keep staying diligent and consistent.” For Maxo, Even God Has a Sense of Humor is nothing more than another moment on the timeline of his offerings of self-expression as an artist—one whose sole intention is to, in his words, develop as a human being and heal.

Søren Skov Orbit's debut album, "Adrift," is at once subtle and profound. The saxophonist and his collaborators have created something quite special and consistently deep. This record may not easily be classifiable, but the most interesting music creeps between the lines

Danish tenor and soprano saxophonist Søren Skov (Debre Damo Dining Orchestra) and keyboardist Peder Vind co-founded the trippy quintet Søren Skov Orbit in 2016 to explore “more jazzy ideas,” as the saxophonist puts it. Joined by a rhythm section steeped in contemporary improvisation and psychedelia, bassist Casper Nyvang Rask, drummer Rune Lohse and percussionist Ayi Solomon of the legendary 80's Ghanaian roots/highlife band Classique Vibes, the Orbit belts out a richly focused helping of broadly African-inspired modern jazz with a hazy sheen.

On the opening “Notifications of Nothingness,” Skov digs in his heels, a steely but languid unspooling of burnished tenor lines atop condensed, quavering piano and the thick footfalls of bass and percussion. As a tenor player, Skov has done his homework and has a kinship with Albert Ayler, Archie Shepp, J.R. Monterose, and the Dutchman Hans Dulfer, but he clearly has got his own robust phraseology and expressiveness. He also cites multi-reedists John Gilmore, Yusef Lateef, and Bilal Abdurahman as, “some of the players I’ve been listening to the most for the last 10-15 years.”

A healthy dose of reverb is present throughout the album, echoing Alton Abraham’s studio wizardry with the Sun Ra Arkestra or the trance-inducing and compressed fidelity of certain Ethio-jazz and Mystic Revelations of Rastafari sessions. Skov notes that, “everything is recorded live at the same time in the same room. I wanted to do it that way in order to catch the dynamics and authenticity of the music.” There is, in fact, a complex teeter- totter between crisp and hazy execution, achieved by a delicately balanced mix that keeps the group’s sound simultaneously advancing and receding. Vind’s phrasing is terse and introspective, a vibrating echo that nudges and reflects on Skov’s brusque tenor in a dance of sonic displacement.

“Orbiting” pits a chunky backbeat and the teetering, taut hand-rhythms of Solomon against an infectious, almost microtonal piano riff, while Skov’s arpeggios are clean and florid as he patiently rises up from under a carpet of funky loops. Following the freer “Reflections of Rif,” “Naration” lilts with a wink at “Footprints” and tugs between up-tempo polyrhythmic drive, clanging keyboard accents, and the innately steadfast keenness of the bandleader. The coupling of Solomon and Lohse is a big part of the group’s detailed energy; as the leader puts it, “Ayi knows everything about regional differences in drum patterns. He is always listening and super responsive, and his and Rune’s dynamics are amazing.” The music both presents a “vibe” and keeps the door open for engaging well under the surface as repeated listens will be extremely rewarding.

Last Summer, Daniel Foggin, guitarist, writer and chief architect of Smote, uprooted himself from his usual home in Newcastle to live and work in a farmhouse in Kelso, near the Scottish border. “Through the summer when I was working up there, myself and Rob (Smote drummer) would finish work and go sit by a small river and have a couple of beers in the sun, and it was the best thing ever” he relates “So I guess the philosophy is that to some people it looks like any other stream, but to us it was supreme happiness.” Hence came the title of the fourth Smote album proper, one largely recorded in this same farmhouse – A Grand Stream. It’s an album that’s the truest incarnation thus far of his vision for this band – a full-scale psychic voyage into the ether and a drone-and-repetition-fuelled series of incantations that takes simple, primal ingredients and utilises them for the purposes of aural sorcery, summoning spectres and revelations aplenty in its wake. Whilst the folk-tinged, ceremonial ambience that Smote have made their trademark is present and correct here, utilising Swedish classic psych heaviness and Swans textures as fuel for the ominous rhythms of ‘Coming Out Of A Hedge Backwards’ and the uplifting cadences of opener ‘Sitting Stone Part 1’, Foggin and his cohorts also waste little time exploring new more eerie and ethereal textures and dimensions. The meditative ‘Chantry’ in particular sees them gravitate towards a headspace akin to the drone-based epiphanies of Kali Malone’s ‘Does Spring Hide Its Joy’ filtered through the transcendent amplifier worship of ‘Earth 2’. A Grand Steam takes this band – one who’ve always eschewed the cliches and stumbling blocks of all contemporary psych rock in favour of their own unique and wyrd vision – into a realm in which they transcend through willpower and skill alike into something preternaturally thrilling, mapping out their own crepuscular new territory Question is; dare you step over the threshold?

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label KRAAK presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why."
Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

Philly heavy-weight OT The Real has been steadily building up his reputation in the game over the last few years, projects with Heatmakerz and DJ Green Lantern have been solidifying his name in the world of underground hip-hop, and this brand new collaboration with veteran Boston native producer Statik Selektah is yet another proof of his relentless work ethic and growth. Featuring guest appearances by Freeway, Merkules and Wallo among others, "Maxed Out" is yet another step up in OT's catalog, setting his path on the way up!

On 1977's Mind Storm, the final album made prior to his emphatic retirement, Burchette employed "pink sound," a phenomenon known in acoustical science to open the mind to thrilling psychic revelations, setting down two side-long pieces forming a reflecting crystal ball for squalls of deep br ain imagery.

On 1977's Mind Storm, the final album made prior to his emphatic retirement, Burchette employed "pink sound," a phenomenon known in acoustical science to open the mind to thrilling psychic revelations, setting down two side-long pieces forming a reflecting crystal ball for squalls of deep br ain imagery.

2LP Soundtrack for UbiSoft video game in the Avatar series on Translucent Blue & Pink Vinyl Set after the events of the first Avatar film, you’ll embark on a journey across the Western Frontier, a never-before-seen continent of Pandora, as you join other Na’vi clans to protect Pandora from the formidable forces of the RDA. Created in collaboration with Disney and James Cameron’s production company, Lightstorm Entertainment, you will experience a first-person open-world action-adventure game exclusively developed to maximize the power of new-gen consoles and PC. Abducted by the human militaristic corporation known as the RDA, you, a Na’vi, were trained and molded to serve their purpose. Fifteen years later, you are free, but find yourself a stranger in your birthplace. Reconnect with your lost heritage, discover what it truly means to be Na’vi, and join other clans to protect Pandora from the RDA.

On 'Mirror, Reflect,' Amy O returns to form as she documents her transition into motherhood in the early days of the pandemic. Initially conceived as a lo-fi endeavor to record songs made with friends in those days of uncertainty, 'Mirror, Reflect' is an intimate and exploratory work that weaves collected home and field recordings with shimmering synths and Oelsner's playful lyricism. A stalwart presence in the indie-pop underground since 2012, Oelsner shifted her approach to record making on 'Mirror, Reflect' to emphasize process over product, with the resulting songs born out of a myriad of home sessions, song-a-day projects, songwriting workshops and online collaborations. This kind of patchwork, home-spun approach was familiar to Oelsner, who made her name with her sparkling, homemade pop songs before releasing three studio albums, including her most recent album, 2019's Shell. 'Mirror, Reflect' gently shrugs off the sheen of those studio albums, as an early prenatal recording of Oelsner's daughter's heartbeat opens the record in the near-ambient instrumental prelude of "Honey" -- a wonderfully nuanced dispatch from the dog days of summer that's under-bellied by both the precarity and beauty of the early months of infancy and new motherhood. Oelsner's knack for finding magic in the mundane is also deeply apparent on "Dribble Dribble," where the stick-with-you nature of the playful rhyme schemes of the children's books that became a regular part of her literary intake are worked into a lilting reflection on resilience, destruction and loss. Oelsner's initiation into motherhood is inseparable from the poetic heart of 'Mirror, Reflect', but the album is also largely informed by the shifts in Oelsner's relationship to herself. Through playful and emotionally acute observations, Amy O turns the potentially contractive experiences of motherhood, isolation, family and aging into a freewheeling work where ephemerality and humor collide over her deft lyrical phrasing, musicality and her keen observations turned poetic revelations.

AMEN is the 3rd release by bassoonist / composer / producer Joy Guidry. Representing a major ste up in her ability to fully realize and embody a sound and concept, AMEN moves from rousing, rafter-splitting spiritual jazz and gospel compositions to ambient compositions that create a powerfu statement of communal healing and peace. The album features contributions by Niecy Blues, Kalia Vandever, Tyrone Allen and Jessie Cox.

Born in 1977, in Malang, East Java, Wukir Suryadi began playing music for theatre at the age of 12 with the Idiot The-ater Studio, and later with the Rendra Theater Workshop. In his solo work, and as a member of Senyawa, Error Scream, Bendera Hitam Setengah, Potro Joyo and other groups, Wukir breaks the boundaries of traditional music, death metal and avant-garde performance. On this new release, “Cycle and Prayer,” recorded in 2023, he expands the edges of his unique artistic world further, by digging in to meditative improvisation, art, and community building in his home workshop in the mountains of central Java. These recordings vibrate inwards, toward the microcosmic ecologies of forests and rivers; they distort outwards, resonating with global waves of apocalyptic change that are forcing all living beings to the edges of existence on earth. The result is a meditative poem that moves, as its titles an-nounce, from phenomena to phenomena, praying that humans find a way out from the depths of the depths to the light that illuminates the soul.
An essential mode of creative work for Wukir is the creation of unique instruments, using these sound sources as “bullets of expression.” In addition to the spear-like tube zither Bambu Wukir, he has created the Solet, Enthong, Garu, Luku, Arrows, and Industrial Mutant instruments, which in addition to being used in live performance, have been exhibited in the Instrument Builders Project and the 2017 Jakarta Biennale. In the past few years, Wukir has begun to collaborate with local guitar makers, carpenters, and suppliers of native endemic wood in the mountain region of Salatiga. Using earthen bricks along with local woods (suren, coconut, mindi, and waru lengis) as building materials, he constructed a new studio and workshop space in Tingkir, where this album was made. The trees, water and air of the local environment have exerted a powerful influence in Wukir’s documentations of instrumental sound. On this recording, he uses the simple Cetta guitar, an instrument designed in Bali and made for Indonesian children and local communities of folk and popular musicians, in order to explore the different sonic characteristics of a more “normal” instrument built from local wood.
The themes of the album -- cycle and prayer -- arise from a foreboding series of meta-events that shook Indonesia and the world over the past years, following one after the other: the COVID-19 pandemic, the Ukrainian-Russian war, the Kanjuruhan Stadium tragedy in which football supporters were gassed and killed by police, revelations of govern-ment failures and corruption, the rise of personal vehicles, the increasing disturbance of natural patterns of the rainy season and other ecological cycles. “In these waves of technology and narratives of truth made for certain interests, playing a sound at a certain frequency and repeating can try to bring images and feelings to a certain point of con-sciousness,” Wukir told me. “Sound is a prayer that creates a change, whether gradual or rapid, in the behaviour of living things, to face the demands of the time, as humans struggle to live according to what they believe.” The draw-ings and sketches used for the cover spontaneously emerged alongside the recordings, as an instinctive depiction of “time and sound, nature that is outside of oneself, and nature that is within.”

About S. Raekwon & Steven "Steven is the sound of me holding a mirror up to and critically reflecting on who I am: the good, the bad, the ugly. It's about trying to understand the multitudes within me." - S. Raekwon Steven Raekwon Reynolds performs as S. Raekwon, but his second LP is simply called Steven. Across ten tracks of furious and subtly strumming guitars, plodding bass riffs, and whispering revelations, S. Raekwon's newest album strips back sonic and personal layers to present his most vulnerable, yet authentic self. Born in Buffalo and now based in the East Village of New York City, Steven wrote, produced, engineered, and mixed everything on the record, in addition to playing every instrument except the drums. He packed up a rental car with all his gear and returned to his fiancée's parents' home in Southern Illinois, where they rode out the pandemic and where he recorded half of Where I'm at Now. The house proved to be a nontraditional recording space, but one that provided plenty of physical space as well as spiritual room for experimentation. Steven and drummer Mario Malachi, longtime friends since their days at college in Cleveland, Ohio, spent a week in July 2023 transforming the living room into a makeshift studio, rearranging furniture, sitting face-to-face in front of a mic, and taping songs in single takes. It was a new way of working together, with no demoing or pre-production; Mario hadn't even heard the songs before getting there, which created a sense of spontaneity and improvisation. Where his debut explored his past - longing for a connection to his father and the Black side of his family and wrestling with his identity while being raised in a household by a single, white mother - Steven looks inward. Steven is loosely structured in three parts: Part 1 is fast and energetic, exploring the concepts of rage, anger, jealousy. Part 2 is slow and dynamic, with themes of ugliness, disappointment, embarrassment. Part 3 is something gentler, a moment of contentment and clarity. Steven is a portrait of strengths and weaknesses, flaws and fulfillments.

Returning after three years with their second studio album, Double Dog Dare, WHITE DOG have been revelling in a state of creative flux and are poised to share their revelations with the world. Formed in 2015 in Austin, Texas, White Dog began with a shared vision of blazing, fuzzed-out rock that drew gleefully from their home city's rich cultural melting pot. Emboldened by an us-against-the-world gang mentality and inspired by everything from dusty roots rock to explosive old school prog, the band's self-titled album emerged in 2021, courtesy of natural home Rise Above Records, and immediately stood out as a sophisticated, earthy and characterful new strain of retro rambunctiousness.
Recorded over a period of eight days at Stuart Sikes Audio (with engineer Andrew McCalla) in Austin, Double Dog Dare takes all of the debut album's deftly assembled ingredients and allows them to fly free, liberated from expectation. At times mellower than its predecessor, at others strident and ferocious, these new songs showcase White Dog's organic development, with elements of everything from wistful southern rock to crusty-eyed jazz rock finding a place. Somehow even more fluid and fiery than before, this band are growing and expanding before our ears.
Now free to peddle their incendiary wares, they return to the stage with their strongest material to date, and a newfound enthusiasm for giving The Riff the respect and imagination it deserves.

Returning after three years with their second studio album, Double Dog Dare, WHITE DOG have been revelling in a state of creative flux and are poised to share their revelations with the world. Formed in 2015 in Austin, Texas, White Dog began with a shared vision of blazing, fuzzed-out rock that drew gleefully from their home city's rich cultural melting pot. Emboldened by an us-against-the-world gang mentality and inspired by everything from dusty roots rock to explosive old school prog, the band's self-titled album emerged in 2021, courtesy of natural home Rise Above Records, and immediately stood out as a sophisticated, earthy and characterful new strain of retro rambunctiousness.
Recorded over a period of eight days at Stuart Sikes Audio (with engineer Andrew McCalla) in Austin, Double Dog Dare takes all of the debut album's deftly assembled ingredients and allows them to fly free, liberated from expectation. At times mellower than its predecessor, at others strident and ferocious, these new songs showcase White Dog's organic development, with elements of everything from wistful southern rock to crusty-eyed jazz rock finding a place. Somehow even more fluid and fiery than before, this band are growing and expanding before our ears.
Now free to peddle their incendiary wares, they return to the stage with their strongest material to date, and a newfound enthusiasm for giving The Riff the respect and imagination it deserves.

High Llamas present Hey Panda - a modern pop music/deep listening experience that could only issue forth from their personal quadrant of the galaxy. Hey Panda projects soulfully through an enervating abstract of today"s popular music; the sound of the Llamas" stately melodies and expressive ditties laid open - blissfully shattered - with drums and vocals hitting different, burning sounds and contemporary production twists pulling the ear at every turn. For the past few decades, High Llamas have trafficked in contemporary pop sounds directed toward the avant end of the spectrum as much as not. But here the message was clear. Llamas" composer-in-residence Sean O"Hagan was determined to let go. Hey Panda does just that, with a set of tunes reflecting on multiple levels how definitions change over the course of a lifetime, radiating an optimism derived from the diverse conundrums of today. Eight years since their last release, the pop musical Here Come The Rattling Trees, High Llamas have reinvented themselves again, mixing their peerless harmonic voice with what Sean regards as the "extraordinarily good" production sounds of today on Hey Panda. Choosing not to look backward to former golden ages celebrated in earlier Llamas eras, Sean"s instead found himself opened up by the sounds of music brought into the house by his adult children and the sounds encountered at sessions for which he"s recently written arrangements. In addition to the more traditional contributions he made to The Coral"s Sea of Mirrors album, plus his score for the Safdie brothers" 2022 film production, Funny Pages, Sean"s drawn great inspiration through working with Fryars, Rae Morris, King Krule, Pearl and The Oyster, while also soaking up the work of Tierra Whack and Chicago"s Pivot Gang, and being cheered on from a distance by longtime admirer Tyler The Creator. Thus, Sean"s producer procedural has evolved again, with upgrades first detected in his 2019 solo effort, Radum Calls, Radum Calls. With a cover of Billie Eilish"s "Wish You Were Gay" arranged for Bill Callahan and Bonnie Prince Billy"s Blind Date Party, along with his COVID-era solo single, "The Wild Are Welcome", Sean has leveled up again and again, leading to the delirious revelations of Hey Panda. Hey Panda"s wide reach is aided by two co-writes from Bonnie "Prince" Billy, (who bonded with Sean over a shared love of gospel soul during writing sessions), guest vocals from Rae Morris and Sean"s daughter Livvy, production twists from Fryars and the stalwart, flexible presence of High Llamas. For all of its sense of departure, Hey Panda is a movement in the High Llamas oeuvre that"s been a long time in development. Aspects of soul music were addressed at the time of Can Cladders; similarly, aspects of electronic dance music were in the mix in the late 90s, around the time of Cold and Bouncy. But nothing up to now has refocused the music of High Llamas so completely. Sharing the impulse of late-period Miles Davis and Quincy Jones, with further inspiration from Steve Lacy, SZA, Sault, No Name and Ezra Collective, among many others, Sean O"Hagan and High Llamas are living joyfully in the new and the now, with Hey Panda.

One of the hardest working singer-songwriters in the game is named Katie Crutchfield. She was born in Alabama, grew up near Waxahatchee Creek. Skipped town and struck out on her own as Waxahatchee. That was over a decade ago. Crutchfield says she never knew the road would lead her here, but after six critically acclaimed albums, she"s never felt more confident in herself as an artist. While her sound has evolved from lo-fi folk to lush alt-tinged country, her voice has always remained the same. Honest and close, poetic with Southern lilting. Much like Carson McCullers"s Mick Kelly, determined in her desires and convictions, ready to tell whoever will listen. And after years of being sober and stable in Kansas City-after years of sacrificing herself to her work and the road-Crutchfield has arrived at her most potent songwriting yet. On her new album, Tigers Blood, Crutchfield emerges as a powerhouse-an ethnologist of the self-forever dedicated to revisiting her wins and losses But now she"s arriving at revelations and she ain"t holding them back.

One of the hardest working singer-songwriters in the game is named Katie Crutchfield. She was born in Alabama, grew up near Waxahatchee Creek. Skipped town and struck out on her own as Waxahatchee. That was over a decade ago. Crutchfield says she never knew the road would lead her here, but after six critically acclaimed albums, she"s never felt more confident in herself as an artist. While her sound has evolved from lo-fi folk to lush alt-tinged country, her voice has always remained the same. Honest and close, poetic with Southern lilting. Much like Carson McCullers"s Mick Kelly, determined in her desires and convictions, ready to tell whoever will listen. And after years of being sober and stable in Kansas City-after years of sacrificing herself to her work and the road-Crutchfield has arrived at her most potent songwriting yet. On her new album, Tigers Blood, Crutchfield emerges as a powerhouse-an ethnologist of the self-forever dedicated to revisiting her wins and losses But now she"s arriving at revelations and she ain"t holding them back.

In 2005, an 18-year-old Raphael Gimenes left the sunny shores of Brazil behind, embarking on a journey to a distant and wintry land. "Dinamarca," the Portuguese name for Denmark, became his new home, where he has lived for almost two decades. Today, he presents his third album, a deep exploration of his life in Scandinavia. Rather than being a nationalistic tribute, "DINAMARCA" tells chapters from Gimenes" life story as a Brazilian living in the northern corners of the world. It guides us through the enchanting nordic woods, the vast fields stretching to the horizon, and the timeless sea resting beneath an endless sky. The melodies of blackbirds, the dances of red deer, and the whispers of ancient oaks form the backdrop for his musical stories. Within his songs, we experience moments of deep solitude and boundless inspiration, moments where reflection and creative passion intertwine. Gimenes skillfully turns the power of love into harmonies, dedicating songs to both his companion and his closest friends. Beyond these experiences, he leads us on journeys to Denmark"s neighboring lands, Norway and Sweden, where revelations and encounters with the mystical found their way into the lyrical fabric of his songs. The album"s orchestration includes Gimenes" vocals and the resonant chords of his classical guitar. Accompanying him throughout the album are Jan Kadereit"s multilayered percussion, and Lucas Delacroix"s bass synth, who also plays the electric guitar at times. The music further unfolds with the nuances of a string quartet, and a brass quintet, both recorded in the tropical highlands of Minas Gerais. Other guest musicians feature on individual songs, such as pianist Sebastian Macchi, flautist Flavia Huarachi, cellist Lucas Almeida, and singers Gaby Echevarria, Cecilia Pahl, and Cris Ferro. Gimenes has garnered acclaim and accolades across continents. His debut release, "Raphael Gimenes & As Montanhas de Som," delved deep into the rhythms and traditions of Brazil. It rose to prominence as the top Brazilian release in 2016 in Holland and was hailed as a "conceptual masterpiece" in Japan. His second album, "A Tongue Full of Suns," co-produced with Faroese multi-artist Teitur, ventured into the English language, blending Gimenes" inspirations from the world of prog-rock. Danish rock legend TimChristensen praised it as "top-shelf neo-folk," while Brazilian website80minutos described it as "hypnotizing." The music within "DINAMARCA" delves deep into the soul of a man who embraced a new land with open arms, while staying true to his roots. It unites elements from both of Gimenes" prior works, embarking on a journey across new musical horizons. The result is music that transcends borders, weaving itself into an intricately beautiful tapestry - a soul that has learned to harmonize with two worlds.

Das 2.Album von Schubmodul "Lost In Kelp Forest" ist ein Konzeptalbum, das sich thematisch nicht wie beim Vorgänger in den unendlichen Weiten des Weltraums, sondern in einer Unterwasserwelt abspielt. Die sechs hauptsächlich instrumentalen Stücke werden dabei durch Erzählerstimmen belgeitet, die eine zusammenhängende fiktionale Geschichte auf einem dichten atmosphärischen Soundteppich erzählen (Stimmen Alma Chomel aus Frankreich und Shane Wilson aus den USA). Als Fundament donnert das Dreigestirn, geformt in klassischer Besetzung von Gitarre, Bass und Schlagzeug, einen Mix aus Space-, Stoner- und Progressiv-Rock auf's Parkett der gelegentlich durch Synthesizer, Sound- und Sprachsamples ergänzt wird. Verträumte, atmosphärische Passagen treffen auf kolossale Riffs und münden häufig in einem epischen melodischen Zenit aus voluminösen, warmen Sounds, über die sich sanfte bis schnelle Gitarrensoli entladen. Die Kompositionen bedienen sich dabei einer großen modalen Palette und vielseitige Harmonien, die den Zuhörer immer wieder überraschen. Ein sehr hohen Grad an Detailverliebtheit der auch beim mehrmaligen Hören spannend bleibt. Als Inspirationen zu diesem Album diente der Band genretypische Größen wie Elder, King Buffalo, progressivere Bands wie Dream Theatre und Elemente aus der Filmmusik von Hans Zimmer. Das komplette Album wurde in nur 6 Tagen in der legendären Tonmeisterei eingespielt.

East Los Angeles quartet Levitation Room’s floaty, cosmic songs are always a trip. Since forming nearly a decade ago, they’ve self-produced dizzying, otherworldly music that’s connected with fellow travelers in the hallucinogenic world of outré rock music. Led by singer and guitarist Julian Porte along with founding members Gabriel Fernandez (lead guitar) and Johnathan Martin (percussion), the band has enchanted live audiences at Desert Daze and on tour with like-minded groups Post Animal and Psychedelic Porn Crumpets. The band’s vivid sound has found them placed on popular playlists like Modern Psychedelia and the legendary superproducer’s Danger Mouse Jukebox. Their 2015 debut, “Friends,” has surpassed 18 million streams. Joined by new member Kevin Perez (bass) in 2021, Levitation Room have continued to expand their colorful, unearthly sound, a process that has culminated with the vibrant new album Strange Weather. Collaborating with former Brian Jonestown Massacre keyboardist Rob Campanella, Jason Kick (Mild High Club), and Black Crowes’ Joel Robinow, Levitation Room take a new step in their story and vision with Strange Weather. The record’s lyrical narratives—about love in the park, life in the city, and the fact that “The world today is such an illusion”—are appropriately steeped in ’60s sonics and a dreamy, lo-fi atmosphere. It’s spacey, celestial guitar music for escaping into, and “it feels just like heaven.” Join Levitation Room on their new voyage.

East Los Angeles quartet Levitation Room’s floaty, cosmic songs are always a trip. Since forming nearly a decade ago, they’ve self-produced dizzying, otherworldly music that’s connected with fellow travelers in the hallucinogenic world of outré rock music. Led by singer and guitarist Julian Porte along with founding members Gabriel Fernandez (lead guitar) and Johnathan Martin (percussion), the band has enchanted live audiences at Desert Daze and on tour with like-minded groups Post Animal and Psychedelic Porn Crumpets. The band’s vivid sound has found them placed on popular playlists like Modern Psychedelia and the legendary superproducer’s Danger Mouse Jukebox. Their 2015 debut, “Friends,” has surpassed 18 million streams. Joined by new member Kevin Perez (bass) in 2021, Levitation Room have continued to expand their colorful, unearthly sound, a process that has culminated with the vibrant new album Strange Weather. Collaborating with former Brian Jonestown Massacre keyboardist Rob Campanella, Jason Kick (Mild High Club), and Black Crowes’ Joel Robinow, Levitation Room take a new step in their story and vision with Strange Weather. The record’s lyrical narratives—about love in the park, life in the city, and the fact that “The world today is such an illusion”—are appropriately steeped in ’60s sonics and a dreamy, lo-fi atmosphere. It’s spacey, celestial guitar music for escaping into, and “it feels just like heaven.” Join Levitation Room on their new voyage.

East Los Angeles quartet Levitation Room’s floaty, cosmic songs are always a trip. Since forming nearly a decade ago, they’ve self-produced dizzying, otherworldly music that’s connected with fellow travelers in the hallucinogenic world of outré rock music. Led by singer and guitarist Julian Porte along with founding members Gabriel Fernandez (lead guitar) and Johnathan Martin (percussion), the band has enchanted live audiences at Desert Daze and on tour with like-minded groups Post Animal and Psychedelic Porn Crumpets. The band’s vivid sound has found them placed on popular playlists like Modern Psychedelia and the legendary superproducer’s Danger Mouse Jukebox. Their 2015 debut, “Friends,” has surpassed 18 million streams. Joined by new member Kevin Perez (bass) in 2021, Levitation Room have continued to expand their colorful, unearthly sound, a process that has culminated with the vibrant new album Strange Weather. Collaborating with former Brian Jonestown Massacre keyboardist Rob Campanella, Jason Kick (Mild High Club), and Black Crowes’ Joel Robinow, Levitation Room take a new step in their story and vision with Strange Weather. The record’s lyrical narratives—about love in the park, life in the city, and the fact that “The world today is such an illusion”—are appropriately steeped in ’60s sonics and a dreamy, lo-fi atmosphere. It’s spacey, celestial guitar music for escaping into, and “it feels just like heaven.” Join Levitation Room on their new voyage.

Vladislav Delay presents the fifth and last EP in his "Hide Behind The Silence" series. Intuitive and raw music, momentary and reflective, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

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Stillness is a myth. Consider concepts such as ”still water”, or ”still air” for that matter. Go to a restaurant, ask them for a glass of still water, hold it against the light and see where we’re at. Even though the water itself has been captured and imprisoned in the glass, it never stops breathing. It’s filled with tiny particles, dancing. Everything can be explained on a molecular level, but since we’re not scientists – and even if you happen to be – it’s the natural world of perception that moves me.
Still air is very similar. A hot summer’s day with zero wind feels completely still. It’s the closest I have felt to complete stillness. Or for a more urban adaptation, imagine the same vibe inside a normal apartment. In those moments, revelations and mind- blowing experiences can be had with experiments in stillness.
Try this: Just sit down for a minute on a sunny day, making sure there’s enough natural light. Do absolutely nothing. Try not to breathe for a bit. (If you need a mental anchor, you can play Cage’s 4’33” in your head but nothing else.) Watch the tiny dots of dust dancing :..’ ̈.:; ́ ́*°.,’:,. ̈ ̈ ̈ ̈:,.’
The movement is crazy, but the feeling of stillness comes from witnessing how subtle it is. In (perceived) complete stillness, every act of microscopic mobility seems to speak volumes. Yet, it feels both reassuring and oddly threatening that the stillness is never complete. What if we would need absolute stillness? Or is it just enough that we can perceive something as such? Extremes attract, so for both water and air, extraordinary movement is equally fascinating. That is also a luxury item of sorts. For us to enjoy a very ”loud” body of water or air, we need to be safe, in enough control of the situation. So when you are, it’s worthwhile to pay attention and take it all in.
A rapid flowing free with extreme strength and just barely in control. Look at that water go! No still water on this one, only ”sparkling”. A windy day when birds seem surprised how hard it is to fly, but in the end they make it. Trees bend but don’t break. The wind shows you its movement but doesn’t hurt you. It feels friendly, like a big clumsy dog that doesn’t quite understand its size.
It’s beautiful to be a guest of the elements, but not at the mercy of them. A new kind of dialogue forms.

Green Vinyl

A bass rumble seems to rearrange your organs like a spiritual doctor, fast techno kicks and a funky as hell percussion line emerge - it's the lucky 13th release on Lisbon's Para?so, this time by local mainstays Shcuro and Vil - the first, label co-founder, the second a longtime friend and impeccable DJ with a range that runs from dubstep to the hardest strains of techno and beyond. The opener track 'Rumble The Funk' evolves with infectious stabs and cut-up vocal and our legs can't seem to stand still. The groove continues on with the A2 'Recoil', a soulful, dubby, relentless ode to techno that feels authentic and purposeful. Emotional tones find their way in via a mysterious, melodic string, introduced in the breakdown. Dubbed out motifs, delay + feedback strokes make a welcome return on the appropriately titled 'Chime Dub' that opens the B side of the record: skippy rhythmic layers and a warm bassline complete the picture, string flourishes give us glimpses of radiant dancefloor revelations. On the B2 the duo's opener track gets the remix treatment by another exciting duo: Blasha & Allatt, who are the women behind the iconic queer techno raves Meat Free. They flip the original's melody into a rapid, dreamy affair, conveying an optimism that perfectly wraps up this solid record by continuing the celebration of collaborative work.