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Ian Elms’s cult isolationist synth masterpiece Good Night returns via Dark Entries. Originally released in 1982, Good Night blends Berlin school minimalism and BBC Radiophonic weirdness with the aesthetics of then-nascent DIY punk electronics throughout its fifteen short tracks. According to Elms, these pieces were composed in two broad but interrelated modes: pieces with voice and synthesizer, which are obliquely narrative, and instrumental synthesizer pieces that aspire to capture fleeting emotions. Ian met with producer David Hoser at Octopus Studios and they began constructing pieces using a Polymoog Keyboard 280a, sampled drum tracks, and Elms’s synthesizer. On “The Street Enters the House”, live drums lurch along with skeletal motifs while Elms’s elliptical lyrics evoke domestic discontent. “A Light Moves Across Curtains” features metronomic pummeling and icy strings buttressing the scant cryptic lines from Elms. Instrumental gems like “Goodnight” and “Surrounded by Trees” are built around detuned riffs in round-like structure, both drifting and static like the motion of waves. With original pressings fetching three digits – if you can even find a copy – this reissue is essential listening for fans of John Bender, Transparent Illusion, and the early 80’s DIY cassette scene. Each copy of Good Night comes with a postcard featuring a photograph and notes by Elms. “This record is intended for anyone who by accident or design spends most of their time alone (whether in the body or in the mind).” – Ian Elms.

TSSRCT returns with its second release, delivering a four-track EP by UFO95 that dives deep into minimalist, contemporary techno. Focused on raw textures this record explores a territory where noise meets precision. Punchy drums collide with saturated percussions, while delay-heavy treatments carve space into the mix, creating hypnotic tension across each track. It's a stripped-back yet forceful statement -- functional and experimental in equal measure.

Rising steadily out of obscurity since its launch in 2020, Magic Carpet has become a springboard for talent and an underground staple. Celebrating five years of magic, the label presents two VAs featuring a selection of artists from the Magic Carpet family. This first record (RIDE18) spans tingling euphoria, the grooved up and the blissed out, showcasing the housier end of the imprint’s hard-to-pin-down but unmistakably positive sound. Here’s to many more!

Acclaimed electronic musicians, producers and sound architects Max Cooper and Rob Clouth team up for a new collaborative EP; a dark, playful four-track dive into ambient, breakbeat and techno’s subconscious flow, featuring a standout vocal performance from South London rapper FLOHIO.

Recorded over a series of spontaneous London sessions, “8 Billion Realities” channels years of creative exchange between two of the genre’s most quietly innovative artists and is a result of a decision between the longtime friends to refrain from conceptual overthinking in favour of instinct and joy.

As long-time admirers of each other’s audio/visual work, Cooper and Clouth collaborated in London together after both emerging from intense, idea-heavy album cycles. What followed was a series of exploratory sessions, half-improvised, half-built around half-formed thoughts.

The result is a club-ready EP that feels alive and human: imperfect and hypnotically rich.

“Rob Clouth has been one of my favourite electronic music producers since I first heard his work in 2011,” says Cooper. “His work is more full of ideas and structure than anyone else.” “We were both coming from extensive conceptual studio albums and both in the mood for simplifying things and having some fun with the music, so that’s what we did”.

For Clouth, no stranger to Max Coopers Mesh label having previously released an array of EP’s plus his 2020 debut album “Zero Point” this record marks a new chapter, both creatively and personally.“Something pretty new for me is collaborating,” he says. “You kind of have to when to stop, because if you develop an idea all the way to its endpoint, the other person has nowhere to jump in.”

The first “A Moment Set Aside” began as a break from another idea, a live, unplanned improvisation based around arps and ambience. “The track was written in about as long as it took to play it,” says Cooper. “It was pulled from a 1 hour recording session, more or less as you hear it… the energy and excitement grew as the unplanned moment bore some magic.”

“The lesson being that sometimes it’s helpful to set aside a moment without forcing results, and let the subconscious have something to say.” What followed was darker, heavier. “Asymptote” is detuned techno. Subversive and euphoric in its descent. “We found a sort of brain mangling, half consonant, half wandering detuned techno pulse, which we started chatting about being a sort of pit of spiralling body parts we were falling into,” says Cooper. “It was a lot of fun to work on and let loose with bigger kicks than I usually ever get to unleash.”

Then came “8 Billion Realities”, featuring a standout rap performance from FLOHIO; an emerging figure in the UK grime and rap scene. The track was inspired by conversations about algorithmic echo chambers and hyper-personalised online worlds. Frantic, direct, and South London to the core, FLOHIO brings this tension to life. Her sharp, intense flow cuts through distortion and rhythm, landing the track somewhere between chaos and control instantly making it one of the most striking moments in either artist’s catalogue. “A different reality for all 8 billion of us,” says Cooper. “We weren’t sure if it would work… but there was something about the energy of the percussive idea and the story which felt like it might fit.” “Then FLOHIO had a play with it and straight off the bat absolutely killed it, not just with the lyrics and energy, but the harmonising too, it was a beautiful process.”

The final piece on the EP “Candeleda” originated from Clouth’s solo experiments with a live rig made entirely of vocals and keys, using his self-developed “cheatbox” system. “He put forward a beautiful stumbling melodic sequence which we bounced back and forth adding harmonies and synth layers,” says Cooper. “It rounds off a collection covering some of the breadth of music that we both love.”

In an intricate lattice of ever-evolving electro exploration, Samuel Van Dijk is back on Delsin with a new EP. Under his VC-118A alias, the Helsinki based producer presents a richly textured, cinematic strain of machine funk that reaches beyond dancefloor functionality to test the expressive potential locked within electro's crisp rhythmic framework. There's a melancholic mood hovering over Avian as Van Dijk allows a subtle edge of distortion to creep into his flickering drum programming. The end result is a pensive sound that touches on the moodiness of orchestral composition, unfurling patiently across extended run times without losing focus. With his characteristic attention to detail and broad dynamic range, Van Dijk continues to offer up a sophisticated, emotionally-charged strain of electro like no other.

Following the cult success of the first two EPs and debut album Cinema 3000, Common Saints returns with the highly anticipated EP, Equinox - a release that"s already generating excitement within the Common Saints community. The record blends the signature soul, funk, and psychedelic influences fans have come to love, but this time with a livelier tempo and renewed energy.

funcionário delights in the freedom of creating freeform music for the first time in his career. On “horizonte”, he loosens the reins, his sound follows a wavy, organic structure rather than a rigid, formal one. If it feels freer and more colourful, that’s because it truly is.

Eight years ago, when we first encountered his work, he was composing soundtracks for imaginary video games and crafting sonic landscapes that felt like destinations for sci-fi anime characters. With “Cavalcante” (2022), he broke away from that past. It marked a turning point, he was ready to explore a “fourth world” in both sound and concept. The feedback was overwhelming.

Three years later, “horizonte” marks another evolution. He sends us music regularly, but this album stood out immediately. It felt right: more synth-driven, more open to improvisation. As he put it: “It’s like using oil pastels for the first time and discovering new possibilities. In a way, I’ve found new ways of creating using the same colours.”

Listening to horizonte is like waking up from a dream. Again and again. The opening track, “nascer”, suggests a new dawn, but it’s in “pássaros” that the vision fully takes flight: less processed, more raw, yet still detailed and expansive.

Finding new ways with the same colours has been his quiet mission all along. What’s new here aren't the tools, but the feeling. The movement. The invitation to travel with him. You can hear - and feel - his sense of wonder. Every sound radiates joy. Every moment sparks a new thought. The music moves quickly, but breathes slowly.

Tracks like “renascer” and “o caminho do regresso” echo the spirit of late-70s/early-80s Vangelis, in deep reverence. And just as you approach the end, “fantasma” arrives - a stunning closer, reminiscent of Eno’s “An Ending”. By then, it’s clear: the “fourth world” is behind him. funcionário has moved on. To where? We’re about to discover.

The word "amateur" originates from the Latin word "amator," meaning "lover" or "admirer". This Latin term is derived from "amare," which means "to love". The French adopted "amateur" from Latin, and the English then borrowed it from French, initially retaining the sense of someone who loves or is devoted to something. Over time, the English usage of "amateur" also developed a meaning related to a lack of professional skill or experience. How did a word derived from love become a slur? Is love really so defenseless? They say love conquers all, but in reality isn’t love quite ridiculous? It has no intention, no motive, no agenda. How could it possibly prevail? It can’t be bought or sold, or so they say.Its mere existence can't be proven or even measured. What an impossible thing. Trying and failing, time and time again, no wonder cynicism always seems to win. I see “amateurism” as a delighted, even foolish, protest. Protest against everything. Of what’s expected of someone, or expected of someone to desire or strive for. To be elite, to be expert, to be professional, to be a master, to excel and succeed. Where’s the joy in that? I just want to have fun. I want to want. I want to love. And keep doing it, forever. I want to have fun, even when it’s tiring and sometimes even heaven is boring as hell. I want to be bad. I want to do my own thing. “I vant to be alone”. I want to be someone so dedicated to their passion that it starts to seem like there’s something wrong with them. All the way. We can take it all the way, and never get it back. ” - Molly Nilsson Amateur is the 12th studio album by Molly Nilsson. Deep in the teeth of a career that threatens to tip into something resembling a “legacy,” Molly Nilsson celebrates with an album recorded instinctively, quickly and bursting with so many moments of emotional brilliance and clarity it may be her greatest yet. Hers has been a career spent reaching out, perennially powerful in her earnestness, a warrior ridiculously defenceless and armed with a glittering sincerity. Shearing herself of the machinations of the music industry, recording at home, writing direct to the heart. Amateur is a jubilee for losers. A treatise in 13 songs, Amateur states clearly that we should live our life with eternal curiosity, offers us an open hand of comradeship out of the rat race. The songs on the album are both some of the most personal of Nilsson’s career and the most anthemic. First single How Much Is The World asks us to re-evaluate value in the face of a Neo-liberal system squeezing the life out of our loves. Pulsing opener Die Cry Lie satirises the commercialisation of emotion in the form of a shout-along diss-track. With a pounding rhythm track held down by gorgeous chord changes, heartbreaker Valhalla carries the torch for the main themes of the album: never growing up, making mistakes with kindness, moving on. When the drums crash in on the line “It’s going to get better now, you’ll see, going to be much better off without me” there is a world of feeling swirling about in the vocal delivery. One reading of the track might be that it’s a break up song but the subtext is classic Molly Nilsson: by living truthfully, making mistakes, we’re active agents against the myriad oppressions of the world. All The Way takes the theme for a run into the eternal sunset. It’s a manifesto for living fully. “Take it all the way, and never get it back” - it’s the process that’s the important point. The journey not the destination. Big Life, follows on like a part 2: An ode not only to Molly Nilsson’s career of endless gigs, endless connections with people, it’s a massive ode for following your dreams, doing it yourself. Closer The Bitter End is a powerful anthem for friendship, another definition of love infused in Nilsson’s work, A beautifully poignant ode to comradeship til the end, it seems to be the songwriter approaching aging, approaching life’s inevitability with the same vigour and earnestness, the same love of life she enjoyed at the onset of her career. There are moments on Amateur shrouded in reverb, slightly out of focus, forcing the listener to step deeper into the Mollyverse.. Nilsson’s open-armed beseeching to the world permeates every beat, every chord. These are songs exploding with life: the chunky, aggressive bassline on the punker Get A Life can’t hide its massive, catchy chorus. The sweeping Swedish Nightmare might be a tongue-in-cheek self-reference, but at its heart it’s a song about the duality of living life large, what is a dream, what is a nightmare? Molly Nilsson says you can’t have one without the other, and why would you want to? Here’s to making mistakes.

The Klinik are Dirk Ivens(vocals) and Marc Verhaeghen (music). Also featured on Fear is Eric Van Wonterghem (sequence and percussion), Guy Drieghe cover design on Fear. Luxury package design and reconstruction by Pieter Willemen, All tracks remastered as " like you have never heard them before" by Pieter Dewagter early 2025.

Acid Worlds Part One marks the beginning of Tin Man's new series exploring the dimensions of collaborative acid. The EP features contributions from Susi Saisa (w/ Jussi-Pekka), John Tejada & Tin Man, Romans (w/ Gunnar Haslam), and Rolling Ones.

Tape

Atsuko Hatano is a contemporay classical Viola player who works with electronics to add textures and layers to her sound. Located in Tokyo, Japan, she is a commanding instrumentalist and composer who constructs innovative compositions with strings and layered electronics.
Cells #5 is an orchestral collection and sequel to her previous album Cells #2 which will also be released on cassette via Imprec’s Cassauna label. Cells #5 required three years to complete and the work features the artist’s signature methodology where the instrumental performances are gradually enveloped by multiple layers of a string orchestration.
When not playing solo Atsuko is extremely active recording, collaborating and playing live with Jim O’ Rourke, Eiko Ishibashi, Mocky, Midori Hirano and many more acts.

Atsuko Hatano: Violin, Viola, Cello, Contrabass, Piano (track 1), Xylophone, Oscillator and Chorus

Guest Musicians:
Eiko Ishibashi: Piano, Marimba, Vibraphone
Yuko Ikoma: Accordion
Natsumi Kudo: Horn and flugelhorn
Icchie: Trumpet, Flugelhorn, Piccolo Trumpet
Tatsuhisa Yamamoto: Snare Drum

Composed and Mixed by Atsuko Hatano. Mastered by Jim O’Rourke. Cover by Saskia Griepink.

Es gibt wohl keine größere Überraschungserfolgsgeschichte aus dem Internet im Bereich Musik als die von Ata Kak.Der ghanaische Rapper und Sänger veröffentlichte 1994 still und leise ein Tape, das erst 2006 wiederentdeckt wurde - zu einer Zeit, als die bloggetriebene Online-Sammlerbewegung für Musik in der Vor-Streaming-Ära auf ihrem Höhepunkt war.Die mitreißende Mischung aus Lo-Fi-House und aufrichtig vorgetragenem, kraftvollem Burger Highlife eroberte Mitte der 2000er die Herzen von Musikliebhabern auf der ganzen Welt. Mit Unterstützung seiner Londoner Band spielte Ata Kak weltweit Konzerte und stand auf riesigen Bühnen vor Tausenden von Fans.Die sieben Songs auf ,Obaa Sima" haben Hörerinnen und Hörer gleichermaßen begeistert und verblüfft, seit sie als erster Beitrag auf dem Blog Awesome Tapes From Africa erschienen. Eine gut dokumentierte, jahrelange Suche nach dem Sänger endete 2015 mit einer Neuauflage.Trotz der sorgfältigen Arbeit der langjährigen ATFA-Mastering-Partnerin Jessica Thompson war die Klangqualität der Quelle jedoch nicht optimal - das originale DAT-Tape war verschimmelt und zerfiel.Nach jahrelanger Suche nach der bestmöglichen Kassette steht nun die Obaa Sima Anniversary Remaster-Version bereit. Zum ersten Mal können wir diesen inzwischen legendären, unkonventionellen Dancefloor-Klassiker in glasklarem Klang hören.Die ursprüngliche Neuauflage von ,Obaa Sima" hat über 10.000 LPs verkauft, und die Kassette wurde vom ursprünglichen Blogpost Hunderttausende Male heruntergeladen. Auf der Basis dieser legendären Aufnahme spielte Ata Kak energiegeladene Shows in Clubs und auf Festivals weltweit.Die Deluxe-Edition des neuen Remasters enthält eine LP in gesprenkeltem Vinyl sowie eine DVD-Dokumentation mit bisher unveröffentlichtem Filmmaterial.

Es gibt wohl keine größere Überraschungserfolgsgeschichte aus dem Internet im Bereich Musik als die von Ata Kak.Der ghanaische Rapper und Sänger veröffentlichte 1994 still und leise ein Tape, das erst 2006 wiederentdeckt wurde - zu einer Zeit, als die bloggetriebene Online-Sammlerbewegung für Musik in der Vor-Streaming-Ära auf ihrem Höhepunkt war.Die mitreißende Mischung aus Lo-Fi-House und aufrichtig vorgetragenem, kraftvollem Burger Highlife eroberte Mitte der 2000er die Herzen von Musikliebhabern auf der ganzen Welt. Mit Unterstützung seiner Londoner Band spielte Ata Kak weltweit Konzerte und stand auf riesigen Bühnen vor Tausenden von Fans.Die sieben Songs auf ,Obaa Sima" haben Hörerinnen und Hörer gleichermaßen begeistert und verblüfft, seit sie als erster Beitrag auf dem Blog Awesome Tapes From Africa erschienen. Eine gut dokumentierte, jahrelange Suche nach dem Sänger endete 2015 mit einer Neuauflage.Trotz der sorgfältigen Arbeit der langjährigen ATFA-Mastering-Partnerin Jessica Thompson war die Klangqualität der Quelle jedoch nicht optimal - das originale DAT-Tape war verschimmelt und zerfiel.Nach jahrelanger Suche nach der bestmöglichen Kassette steht nun die Obaa Sima Anniversary Remaster-Version bereit. Zum ersten Mal können wir diesen inzwischen legendären, unkonventionellen Dancefloor-Klassiker in glasklarem Klang hören.Die ursprüngliche Neuauflage von ,Obaa Sima" hat über 10.000 LPs verkauft, und die Kassette wurde vom ursprünglichen Blogpost Hunderttausende Male heruntergeladen. Auf der Basis dieser legendären Aufnahme spielte Ata Kak energiegeladene Shows in Clubs und auf Festivals weltweit.Die Deluxe-Edition des neuen Remasters enthält eine LP in gesprenkeltem Vinyl sowie eine DVD-Dokumentation mit bisher unveröffentlichtem Filmmaterial.

Es gibt wohl keine größere Überraschungserfolgsgeschichte aus dem Internet im Bereich Musik als die von Ata Kak.Der ghanaische Rapper und Sänger veröffentlichte 1994 still und leise ein Tape, das erst 2006 wiederentdeckt wurde - zu einer Zeit, als die bloggetriebene Online-Sammlerbewegung für Musik in der Vor-Streaming-Ära auf ihrem Höhepunkt war.Die mitreißende Mischung aus Lo-Fi-House und aufrichtig vorgetragenem, kraftvollem Burger Highlife eroberte Mitte der 2000er die Herzen von Musikliebhabern auf der ganzen Welt. Mit Unterstützung seiner Londoner Band spielte Ata Kak weltweit Konzerte und stand auf riesigen Bühnen vor Tausenden von Fans.Die sieben Songs auf ,Obaa Sima" haben Hörerinnen und Hörer gleichermaßen begeistert und verblüfft, seit sie als erster Beitrag auf dem Blog Awesome Tapes From Africa erschienen. Eine gut dokumentierte, jahrelange Suche nach dem Sänger endete 2015 mit einer Neuauflage.Trotz der sorgfältigen Arbeit der langjährigen ATFA-Mastering-Partnerin Jessica Thompson war die Klangqualität der Quelle jedoch nicht optimal - das originale DAT-Tape war verschimmelt und zerfiel.Nach jahrelanger Suche nach der bestmöglichen Kassette steht nun die Obaa Sima Anniversary Remaster-Version bereit. Zum ersten Mal können wir diesen inzwischen legendären, unkonventionellen Dancefloor-Klassiker in glasklarem Klang hören.Die ursprüngliche Neuauflage von ,Obaa Sima" hat über 10.000 LPs verkauft, und die Kassette wurde vom ursprünglichen Blogpost Hunderttausende Male heruntergeladen. Auf der Basis dieser legendären Aufnahme spielte Ata Kak energiegeladene Shows in Clubs und auf Festivals weltweit.Die Deluxe-Edition des neuen Remasters enthält eine LP in gesprenkeltem Vinyl sowie eine DVD-Dokumentation mit bisher unveröffentlichtem Filmmaterial.

For the third time, they had been sent to this forsaken land. It was neither east nor west, neither north nor south. They said it had once been a kingdom, somewhere in the heart of the old continent, something they had pieced together from the ruins scattered across jagged hills sprouting here and there from the ground. Everyone else went islands, dived to the seabed, drilled at the poles, and explored waste in the east, but these two were sent here again, as if someone were trying to get rid of them, just to keep them out of the way.

What were they really supposed to find here? They wandered the land, aimless and bored, like the last bird watching from the sky. Sometimes they landed, took samples for the lab, and then caught a nap by the river bend. They avoided the hot fumes of active volcanoes. Compared to those on other planets, these were more like small, whispered fumaroles, but even so, they had to be careful.

They felt as if they had stepped into a scene from a movie they had once glimpsed. A mad and exhausted conqueror screamed and wildly flailed his arms on a ridiculous wooden raft in the middle of a raging river. It was somewhere in the south of this planet, deep in the jungle. There were many movies made on this planet, but only fragments of the reels survived, and this one quickly became iconic.

When a trumpet sounded in the distance and flooded the land with a booming murmur, when all the fumaroles hissed together, and when wind rolled in, covering the land in heavy fog, both of them knew the third expedition would not be like the previous ones.

At that moment, Kult Masek and Petr Vrba were flying over the land that was once called České středohoří.

Downwards present Alexander Tucker in metamorphosis from psych folk to techgnostic bard, aided by notable guests – Justin K Broadrick, Regis, Phew, Karl D’Silva, JJOWDY, and Elvin Brandhi – in a quest for disordered convention and new thrills. One up to Tucker’s outings for Alter and The Tapeworm, and spiritual successor to his »Nonexistant« trio on Downwards, »Clear Vortex Chamber« is an enigmatic take on the brownfield edgelands where the eldritch intersects electronic heck. Decades of work spread between hardcore punk, psych rock, folk, and drone — including work with Stephen O’Malley (Ginnungap) and Neil Campbell (Astral Social Club, ESP Kinetic) — feed forward into this album’s unsteady machine rhythms and cranky junkyard atonalities, where Tucker panel-beats aspects of his previous sound with a newfound industrial thrust and cyber-punky lust that suits him dead well.

A crafty example of how to mutate without losing sight of yourself, the album’s eight parts feel like a cyborg patching itself into modernity. On opener »Udug« Tucker’s signature falsetto peals from a A Scanner Darkly-style scramble suit of stereo-strobing electronics, setting a melodramatic, neo-gothic tension that riddles the album thru the knotted, fractured industrial dancehall bullishness of »Mallets« with Yeah You’s feral gob Elvin Brandhi, via a pair of standout »Fedbck« parts with Tucker’s personal idol, Justin K Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, and the rest), featuring the Brum deity’s claw-handed riffs and howl on the first, and smeared with Karl D’Silva’s brass in its noctilucent second part.

Regis also proves a staunch foil for the album’s most robust, club-ready cut »Zona«, hammered out from buzzing metallic drums and monotone bass drones, and pitting his severed vox against Tucker’s own androgynous harmonies to recall aspects of The Ephemeron Loop via British Murder Boys, whilst scene legend, Can and Ryuichi Sakamoto spar Phew (aka Aunt Sally) ideally tempers the flow in a relatively soothing »Sansu«, sharing more cyber-romantic, recombinant sentiments with the channelling of Robert Wyatt gone Funk Bruxaria on »Folded«.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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