Suche:scraps

Over two decades later, the underground classic that lit the fuse on indie hip-hop’s next era finally gets its vinyl debut. Originally dropped in 2001, Table Scraps is a gritty, no-frills compilation of unreleased tracks and lost sessions from the formative years of MHz, the Columbus, Ohio hip hop crew that helped define an era before the mainstream caught wind of the underground. Recorded between 1997–2001, the album is raw, urgent, and packed with early glimpses of the greatness that would follow.
The core lineup is fully intact and fully in form: Copywrite flexes his unmatched wordplay and delivers two self-produced heaters, “The Funnel” (co-produced) and “Combustion Spontaneous,” proving he’s just as deadly behind the boards. Tage Future brings futuristic cadence and sharp delivery, Jakki Da Motamouth stays unapologetically rugged, and the late Camu Tao is in rare, untamed form, a creative force whose brilliance only grew from here. Holding it all together are beats from RJD2, Mighty Mi, Camu, and Copywrite himself.
Pressed on vinyl for the first time ever, Table Scraps is more than a collection, it’s a time capsule from a crew that helped shape the underground before it had a name.

Power began as a challenge.

Zachary Fairbrother began Countach to collect the unfinished scraps and fragments from his band GHÖSH, the digital hardcore duo that broke up in 2023. But when Feel The Four, the Philadelphia-based label run by Cristian Adams and Jarrett Dougherty (ex-Screaming Females), asked him for a proper 12”, he saw an opportunity to push the project in an ambitious new direction.

The result is Power - EP, which finds Fairbrother exploring the freedom of longer run-times and varied textures, all while maintaining the post-industrial vision of his previous work. Across 20 minutes, he runs through propulsive acid house, harsh electro, and ‘90s big beat, using 303s and 808s to build an upbeat but haunting record that’s as indebted to the forebearers of those genres as it is to the grim landscapes of Phillip K. Dick and Paul Verhoeven.

Grace & Raffaella is the first collaborative release by ML and Vittoria Totale. Over nine tracks, the album strikes a deceptively minimalist tone, taking in a ton of musical as well as literary references. An elegy on a journey back to the present, with all the hushed intensity of an informed fever dream, Grace & Raffaella has a magic-realist feel. Its vocal parts serve as loopy self-fulfilling prophecies. Cut off from the sun, the gorge grows darker. Using an electroacoustic sense of spacing, as well as abstracted current-day club influences, with scraps of background noise fading in and out, this album's use and treatment of a snippet-like narrative is its core aesthetic. A digital gleam drenches the spoken bits into instances of subtle surrealism. Like a kitchen sink drama stripped of all deadweight. We are on the edge of relinquishing all control here. Rip up your diary and let go of the language of the old ones. Grace & Raffaella is a seductive slice of modern hyper-pop that defines its own intentions over and over again.

More than a decade after the release of ´Land Lines', the mythical Humboldt County, California based duo of Brian Pyle and Merrick McKinlay reappears seemingly out of nowhere with 'Atheistsaregods'. With past releases on such cult-like labels as Root Strata, Weird Forest, Blackest Rainbow or Digitalis, Starving Weirdos were an indelible part of a sprawling and loose network of artists in Northern America whose DIY work ethic and extreme activity revolved around shoestring-budget constant touring, numerous limited editions on CDR, tape and vinyl and a relentless drive to push the boundaries of genre.

Out of that cauldron, Starving Weirdos stood out as one of the most persistent and visionary acts, developing a mind altering body of work that went from warm soundscapes through droney digressions, freeform improvisation and raucous noise summoned from a myriad of instrumentation and low budget processing - vocals, keyboards, violin, flute, percussion and an assortment of less identifiable sound sources. 10 years on their legacy remains a timeless and wildly under-appreciated one, but hopefully this new album will shine a light on their idiosyncratic approach. As time itself was never a constraint. This is music suspended outside of it.

Right from the start with the echoing percussion, dissonant keys and processed vocals of 'Haiku Nagasaki', 'Atheistsaregods' draws a continuous flux of psychedelic elevation that goes from the gloomy electronic motifs not unlike the early Cluster vibes of 'Invocation' into the dank percussive maze of the appropriately titled 'Barulho do Samba'. The self titled track induces a sense of post-apocalyptic vertigo via hallucinatory scraps of voice, suspended synth tones and reverberating field recordings, connecting into the droney mystics of 'Dudukahar (Reed Prayer)'. Coming full circle, 'For Vinny' brings back the echoing percussion amidst hypnotic cello lines until it drifts off into the unknown. With the same palpable sense of urgency, Starving Weirdos feel as vital as ever. And even if we didn't realize it we were in need of them. Welcome back.

SELF-iSH is a quick but intensely dramatic concept album with dark psychedelic themes and nonstop experimental energy. Will Wood and the Tapeworms quickly grabbed attention in the punk scene following "Everything is a Lot" due to Wood's unique writing and refusal to break character even backstage and the band's dangerously high-energy shows. Face paint, confetti, and on-stage violence became the project's calling card, making SELF-iSH's dark and intense drama an inevitable direction for Wood. Mere months after the debut, producer Kevin Antreassian offered Wood a deal on his follow-up but only had a narrow time window, so Wood improvised. Bringing together a new lineup and with the help of guitarist Mike Bottiglieri, Wood wove scraps of discarded or unfinished songs together and created a tight yet abstract psychedelic concept album with the intent of taking every risk and trying every off-kilter idea he had. SELF-iSH began its highly conceptual production process during the holiday season in 2015, and the studio became littered with notepads, graphic charts, and teeth. The result was a manic little album featuring screaming, theremin, kazoo, power drills, the sound of breaking furniture, and an almost heavy-metal twist on Wood's off-kilter vision. By the time the album was finished, the piano was bloody, and the studio was wrecked. The album became what Wood described as the "bastard child" of his discography. Will Wood's early career can be primarily defined by his experimental vocal delivery, honky-tonk piano smashing, and darkly edgy songwriting. While his stylings have matured and taken on a more precise approach, his refusal to conform to expectations and constant shifts in the genre have continued to be hallmarks of his songwriting and production. In his "Will Wood and the Tapeworms" releases (Everything Is A Lot in 2015, SELF-iSH in 2016), audiences can see the first glimpses into what would eventually become his signature style, presented in a uniquely raw and chaotic state of potential.

Off The Record (faitiche 39), the new album by French collagist Roméo Poirier, is an amusing romp through the discarded history of recording studios. It contains fourteen miniatures based on accidental recordings of studio talk, revealing things that were never meant for the public: we hear instructions from studio staff, scraps of talk between musicians, or just microphones being adjusted, as well as false notes, false starts: everyone stops. Start again: 1, 2, 3, 4!

Poirier’s approach recalls Accumulation, an artform practiced by Arman, Jean Tinguely and Daniel Spoerri that involved piling up everyday items into assemblages. The objects themselves often remained unaltered, the artistic gesture consisting in the careful curating of a distinctive selection. Poirier’s audio collages explore similar terrain. The fourteen pieces on Off the Record combine more than a thousand found sounds from studio archives into complex miniatures. The audio content of these outtakes is twisted, stretched, cut, reassembled, slowed down and accelerated. Voices cut into a microgroove, from a very old recording, intertwine with digital voices gleaned from YouTube. All of them in dialogue, engaging the listener with the impression of being part of a new music group.

Poirier uses the mundane routine of setting up before the actual recording gets underway to tell a universal story about working in a recording studio. And he manages something few achieve, transforming specialist knowledge into a narrative whose beauty goes far beyond its immediate subject. It speaks to everyone, because the story is told in a musical language that is open and accessible, evoking magical images reminiscent of Oz – a world consisting less of events than of camp hallucinations, captured in grainy black-and-white photographs. En passant, Poirier shows us how the notion of material accumulation can produce great art.

Written and produced by Roméo Poirier, mastered by Stephan Mathieu, photos by Roméo Poirier, graphic design by Tim Tetzner.

Gothenburg/Malmö-based post rock power trio Barrens return with Corpse Lights, the band's second full-length release following their critically-acclaimed 2020 debut Penumbra. Five years in the making, Corpse Lights sees Barrens strike a breathtaking balance between light and dark, beauty and brutality. Corpse Lights, Barrens' sophomore album, is somehow deeper, richer and headier; imbued with an alluring compositional patience that serves as unspoken testament to the combined creativity of the trio in their element, as something so much greater than the sum of its parts. Recorded and produced by Kristofer Jönson, who also helmed Penumbra, and mixed and mastered once again by Cult of Luna's Magnus Lindberg, shimmering synthesizers and sprawling guitars lead the charge propelled by exhilarating drums and percussion but Corpse Lights also finds Barrens using space, silence and atmosphere as another instrument if not as another band member entirely. `Corpse Lights' is the name given to the folk belief that small coloured lights often appear near the home of someone about to die, leading them along the path to their eventual resting place. Often considered to be evidence of the soul leaving the body, the concept of corpse lights embodies Barrens' approach to creating music as a cathartic release; not just writing music because they want to but because they have to. Their writing process is one of joy, light and release as much as it is dark, heavy and tense. The result is Corpse Lights, a collection of nine pieces that guide us through five tumultuous years of highs and lows, of loves and losses and victories and defeats without ever needing to say a word. FOR FANS OF Mono, PG.LOST, Caspian, Mogwai, This Will Destroy You, Russian Circles, Pelican, Scraps Of Tape, God Is An Astronaut. Vinyl is a gatefold, the sleeve comes with metalic ink, the Periastron edition is transparent "white" Vinyl

Gothenburg/Malmö-based post rock power trio Barrens return with Corpse Lights, the band's second full-length release following their critically-acclaimed 2020 debut Penumbra. Five years in the making, Corpse Lights sees Barrens strike a breathtaking balance between light and dark, beauty and brutality. Corpse Lights, Barrens' sophomore album, is somehow deeper, richer and headier; imbued with an alluring compositional patience that serves as unspoken testament to the combined creativity of the trio in their element, as something so much greater than the sum of its parts. Recorded and produced by Kristofer Jönson, who also helmed Penumbra, and mixed and mastered once again by Cult of Luna's Magnus Lindberg, shimmering synthesizers and sprawling guitars lead the charge propelled by exhilarating drums and percussion but Corpse Lights also finds Barrens using space, silence and atmosphere as another instrument if not as another band member entirely. `Corpse Lights' is the name given to the folk belief that small coloured lights often appear near the home of someone about to die, leading them along the path to their eventual resting place. Often considered to be evidence of the soul leaving the body, the concept of corpse lights embodies Barrens' approach to creating music as a cathartic release; not just writing music because they want to but because they have to. Their writing process is one of joy, light and release as much as it is dark, heavy and tense. The result is Corpse Lights, a collection of nine pieces that guide us through five tumultuous years of highs and lows, of loves and losses and victories and defeats without ever needing to say a word. FOR FANS OF Mono, PG.LOST, Caspian, Mogwai, This Will Destroy You, Russian Circles, Pelican, Scraps Of Tape, God Is An Astronaut. Vinyl is a gatefold, the sleeve comes with metalic ink

Bebedera takes the style of Tarraxo to a heightened awareness of its sexual nature. Tight, wicked layers of percussion, a suggestive ID ("Drinking is his life"), a slow pace that's not only perceptively slow, it sounds charged with intent, even malice, dissolution. Letting go of morality may be the big attraction in the music, permission to get down, this time in a heavy, conspicuous manner instead of a spiritual, breezy floatation. One has to recognize the impulse in ourselves. Once at peace with this rough nature, there are sublime grooves to follow, mind-boggling arrangements, a freedom from judgement in connecting with what may seem to be at first a very masculine take on dancefloor sensuality but which is in fact only human. Just with less filters.

In other ways, an aural combination of metal and flesh produces this notion of a cyborg, a very expressive physical body making its weight known to everybody around, a sort of walking fortress as in the "Moderan" group of sci-fi short stories. A glorious rattle of lata percussion, scraps from the junkyard. A sense of unease, even slight danger starts a flow of adrenalin. According to DJ Marfox, it's not the only thing flowing, there's also a strong desire for intercourse when a Bebedera tarraxo is playing. His very distinctive style has been a cult favourite for years. Accordingly, it took years to make contact, to reach an agreement, and the result is a set of classics that stretch as far back as 2014. Still the same punch, still the feeling no one has really stepped into this territory with such force.

Flipping the construct on its head, there's two Bebedera house tracks, we'd say almost an oddity, an abrupt change from the previous density of atmosphere, though they retain all the percussive bounce. Sensual, sure, a different tempo also letting through a romantic disposition other than the sheer physical attraction. One of the titles sums up the aesthetical power at play: "I Will Beat The Top High". As in reaching further out, further up. Wanting to. Time freezes - 2014 and 2016 (production years of these two tracks), fold up and melt into the Present. Where it matters.

Khadim is a stunning reconfiguration of the Ndagga Rhythm Force sound. The instrumentation is radically pared down. The guitar is gone; the concatenation of sabars; the drum-kit. Each of the four tracks hones in on just one or two drummers; otherwise the sole recorded element is the singing; everything else is programmed. Synths are dialogically locked into the drumming. Tellingly, Ernestus has reached for his beloved Prophet-5, a signature go-to since Basic Channel days, thirty years ago. Texturally, the sound is more dubwise; prickling with effects. There is a new spaciousness, announced at the start by the ambient sounds of Dakar street-life. At the microphone, Mbene Diatta Seck revels in this new openness: mbalax diva, she feelingly turns each of the four songs into a discrete dramatic episode, using different sets of rhetorical techniques. The music throughout is taut, grooving, complex, like before; but more volatile, intuitive and reaching, with turbulent emotional and spiritual expressivity.

Not that Khadim represents any kind of break. Its transformativeness is rooted in the hundreds upon hundreds of hours the Rhythm Force has played together. Nearly a decade has passed since Yermande, the unit's previous album. Every year throughout that period — barring lockdowns — the group has toured extensively, in Europe, the US, and Japan. With improvisation at the core of its music-making, each performance has been evolutionary, as it turns out heading towards Khadim. “I didn’t want to simply continue with the same formula," says Ernestus. “I preferred to wait for a new approach. Playing live so many times, I wanted to capture some of the energy and freedom of those performances.” Though several members of the touring ensemble sit out this recording — sabar drummers, kit-drummer, synth-player — their presence abides in the structure and swing of the music here.

Lamp Fall is a homage to Cheikh Ibra Fall, founder of the Baye Fall spiritual community. The mosque in the city of Touba is known as Lamp Fall, because the main tower resembles a lantern. Soy duggu Touba, moom guey séen / When you enter Touba, he is the one who greets you. After a swift, incantatory start Mbene sings with reflective seriousness. Her voice swirls with reverb, over a tight, funky, propulsive interplay between synth and drums, threaded with one-two jabs of bass. Cheikh Ibra Fall mi may way, mo diayndiou ré, la mu jëndé ko taalibe... Cheikh Ibra Fall amo morome, aboridial / Cheikh Ibra Fall shows the way forward, he gives us strength, he gathers his disciples... Overflowing with grace, Cheikh Ibra Fall has no equal.

Interwoven with Wolof proverbs, Dieuw Bakhul is a recriminatory song about treachery, lies, and back-biting. Over moody, roiling synths and ominous, lean bass, Mbene throws out fluttering scraps of vocal, as if re-running old conversations in her head. The music shadows her despair to the verge of breakdown, at one moment seemingly so lost in thought and memories, that it threatens to disintegrate. Bayilene di wor seen xarit ak seen an da ndo... Dieuw bakhul, dieuw ñaw na / Stop judging your friends and companions... A lie is no good, a lie is ugly.

Khadim is a show-stopper; currently the centrepiece of Ndagga Rhythm Force live performances. The song is dedicated to Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, aka Khadim, founder of the Mouride Sufi order. Serigne Bamba mi may wayeu / Serigne Bamba is the one who makes me sing. The verses name-check revered members of his family and brotherhood, like Sokhna Diarra, Mame Thierno, and Serigne Bara. Though Islam has been practised in Senegal for a millennium, it wasn’t until the start of the twentieth century that it began to thoroughly permeate ordinary Senegalese society, hand-in-hand with anti-colonialism. The verses here recall Bamba’s banishment by the French to Gabon, and later to Mauritania, in those foundational times. During exile, his captors once introduced a lion to his cell: gaïnde gua waf, dieba lu ci Cheikhoul Khadim / the lion doesn’t budge, it gives itself over to Cheikh Khadim. Deep, surging bass, steady kick-drum, and simple, reverbed chords on the off-beat lend the feel and impetus of steppers reggae. A reed plays snatches of a traditional Baye Fall melody; the dazzling polyrhythmic drumming is by Serigne Mamoune Seck. Mbene compellingly blends percussive vocalese, narrative suspense, exultant praise, introspection, and grievance.

Nimzat is a devotional tribute to Cheikh Sadbou, a contemporary of Bamba, buried in a mausoleum in Nizmat, in southern Mauritania. Way nala, kagne nala... souma danana fata dale / I call upon you and wonder about you... If I am overwhelmed, come to my aid. The town holds special significance for Khadr Sufism. An annual pilgrimage there is conducted to this day. The rhythm is buoyantly funky; the mood is sombre, reined-in, foreboding. Punctuated by peals of thunder, Mbene sings with restrained, intense reverence; huskily confidential, steadfast. Nanu dem ba Nimzat, dé ba sali khina / Let us go to Nimzat, to seal our devotion.

Mbene Diatta Seck: vocals.
Bada Seck: bougarabou, thiol, mbeung mbeung bal, tungune.
Serigne Mamoune Seck: bougarabou, khine, mbeung mbeung, tungune.
Text by Mark Ainley (Honest Jons).
Mastered by Rashad Becker.
Everything else by Mark Ernestus.

Carrying on from recent archival releases from masters of Indian classical tradition such as Kamalesh Maitra and the Dagar Brothers, Black Truffle is pleased to present a previously unheard recording of a concert by Pakistani vocalist Salamat Ali Khan. Born to a musician family in Hoshiarpur in the northwestern state of Punjab, Khan moved with his family to Lahore in Pakistan after the 1947 partition of India, becoming a child musical prodigy. Khan was a master of the kyhal form of Hindustani classical vocal music, a style integrating influences from Middle Eastern musical traditions that gives the singer a great deal of improvisational freedom. Travelling widely across the globe from the 1960s until his death in 2001, Khan approached ragas performed in the kyhal style as expressive forums for risk-taking improvisation, enlivened by ceaseless ornamental invention.

This remarkable recording was captured by Michael Hönig (of krautrock legends Agitation Free) in concert at Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie as part of the MetaMusik festival in 1974 (which also featured Nico, Tangerine Dream, and Roberto Laneri’s Prima Materia, among many others). Khan, who is also heard accompanying himself on a specially tuned alpine zither (in place of the traditional swarmandal, an Indian style of zither), is joined by Shaukat Hussein Khan on tabla and Hussein Bux Khan on harmonium. The lack of a familiar underlying tanpura drone gives this performance a weightless, floating quality, with all three of the musicians playing masterfully with the interaction between silence and the pulse propelling each section of the raag.

As Khan explains in his opening remarks, this performance of the rainy season Raag Megh is divided into three parts, each with its own tempo and rhythmic scheme (tala). The opening vilambit, in a twelve-beat tala, stretches out for over twenty minutes, lingering for a long time in a space of meditative calm, Khan lightly strumming the zither while exploring the lower end of his range in languorously extended notes. Virtuoso tabla interjections at first barely state the tempo, and the interplay between musicians is so spacious that we hear scraps of audience noise and the squeak of the harmonium’s mechanism in between the notes. Gradually picking up rhythmic definition and melodic complexity, after around fifteen minutes the music builds dramatically, with Khan letting out emotive yelps and swooping scalar shapes ranging across his full vocal range. This flows seamlessly into the following jhaptal, at a faster tempo in ten beats, which then makes way for the concluding teental, very fast in sixteen beats, which becomes a frantic improvisational exchange of daring rhythmic disruptions from the tabla, flowing harmonium melodies, and a stunning variety of vocal approaches from Khan, ranging from rapid-fire staccato consonants to guttural growls.

Accompanied by stunning black and white concert photographs, the LP also contains a moving and entertaining recollection from acclaimed German musicologist Peter Pannke, looking back on his experience assisting Khan and his musicians in Berlin at the Metamusik festival (including a mouth-watering description of a feast cooked by the maestro himself). As Pannke describes in his account of attending the concert, the beauty and spiritual intensity of this music leaves the listener speechless.

Three LPs packed in a trifold jacket. Pressed on Deep Ocean Pearl, Gold & Dark Green Vinyl. Take up your sword, channel your magic or board your Mech. Chained Echoes is a 16-bit style RPG set in a fantasy world where dragons are as common as piloted mechanical suits. The game is set on the continent of Valandis during the time of a multi-generational war between three kingdoms, Taryn, Gravos and Escanya. After a great catastrophe caused by Grand Grimoire shakes the continent, the kingdoms agree to sign a peace treaty. One year later, an unknown force strives to begin a new war. A group of unlikely heroes joins forces and eventually becomes the clan of Crimson Wings in order to stop it. The outstanding soundtrack for Chained Echoes was passionately composed, arranged and recorded over four years by Eddie Marianukroh as well as many other musicians who worked under his direction. It includes 50 tracks at two hours in length. Even the game has been out for a while, Marianukroh's admiration and enthusiasm for the game and his addition to it remain undiminished: "It has been over two years now since the release of Chained Echoes, which is rather difficult for me to believe. Time really flies, and it's honestly a bit frightening when I think about it. But, despite that, when I listen to the music I've written for this game, I still very much remain proud of what I composed. I really did give my all for this soundtrack. I will forever be grateful to Matthias for trusting me with the music for his game. I can vividly remember how I felt when I first came across his project, and how I nervously reached out to him about the composer position. I truly, truly cannot thank him enough for giving me this memorable experience that I will always hold dear. Thank you, my friend."

Fraufraulein, the San Francisco duo of Billy Gomberg and Andy Guthrie, are master world builders. Their work is immersive — it wraps around you like a warm coat, guiding you deep into a trance-like state. Time moves in slow circles, folds in on itself, and unspools like caught fishing line. It’s tempting to say Guthrie and Gomberg construct a new reality with their work, but I think they’re revealing the contours of familiar territory, gluing together a complicated mirror more than constructing a quotidian diorama. Their music reflects a truth that we all share in some way. It’s the pauses between thoughts, the little observations that color a day, the beauty of how others’ lives imbricate for brief moments before pulling apart completely. Fraufraulein’s music feels beamed from inner space, the soft parts of our consciousness that glow like a flashlight beneath fingertips.

It’s also tempting to call Greater Honeyguide, the duo’s new record — and first in four years — a tool for fostering presence. Each composition can serve as a meditative space, and observing the quietly unfurling layers of sound — a footfall and a quiet breath, scraps of overlapping melodies sung like notes to self, synthesizers droning lightly in the distance — can be a very calming, grounding experience. But I also love to let these pieces guide me through the sulci of my brain like a slot canyon, emerging at some long-forgotten memory or idea. Think of it as a passively-active experience, like looking out of a train window, watching the scenery blur together. At the end of the album’s 37 minutes, I feel transformed. Not necessarily different, just in tune with something else. Something beyond. Something within.

Another foggy day in Yorkshire. A steel grey sky. Raindrops tracing one another down the windowpane. Kirk Barley sits in his studio and assembles compositions from scraps of found sound and live instrumentation. Melodies swell, withdraw and repeat like waves. Time slows. Accelerates. Slows again. The light bends, tweaked at the edges. Twisted by rhythms that never quite resolve.

Written, recorded and produced by Barley in Yorkshire in early 2024, Lux picks up where 2023 LP Marionette leaves off, conjuring a mystical, reflective space between formal minimalism and sonic imaginaries of northern landscapes.

And yet, where Marionette relied at times on more recognisable field recordings, Lux leans into Barley’s skill as an instrumentalist and sound designer, working from a palette of short samples and utilising a variety of alternate tuning systems to build, layer and coax his compositions into being. Most evident on tracks ‘Vita’, ‘Sprite’ and ‘Descendent’, these tunings create an otherworldly harmonic language that is easier to perceive than describe.

Alongside more familiar instruments of guitar, bass, drums, organ and clarinet, here Barley draws on plastic saxophones and bells, and recordings of glass, wood and metal sound objects to provide the organic matter. Rather than directly representative of the natural world, Lux enters into a dialogue with it which, like the grasses and flowers of the album’s cover, exists somewhere between reality and artifice.

On album opener ‘Cache’, Barley constructs his own sense of time from a recording of an umbrella crank, a sparse and spectral piece which hints at memories embedded in the track’s title. Introspection blossoms into new life on ‘Vita’, crumpling again into the percussive ambience of ‘Verre’. A track that takes its harmonic lead from the clinks of glass, it features Barley’s long-time collaborator Matt Davies on drums, whose nuanced, tonally sensitive playing gives ‘Verre’ a fizzing, ice-like quality.

There are several moments where Lux picks up on themes Barley explored under electronic moniker Church Andrews on recent works with Davies, stretching and distorting temporalities most explicitly on ‘Descendent’, whose ritualistic air unfurls around a pattern in exponential decline.

Embracing the surrealism Barley absorbed over years watching classic film noir and the works of David Lynch and Federico Fellini, Lux wends its way through the enchanted sound worlds of ‘Sprite’ and ‘Balanced’ before arriving at the album’s title track.

An expression of his recent experiments in live, prepared guitar, ‘Lux’ brings the album back to earth, returning us to the room where the rain has stopped, the clouds have parted, and the soft warmth of the spring sun is pouring in through the open window.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

The 299 Game is the debut lp from 299, a collection of ten songs with an overarching sense of Lynchian weirdness is offset by songs that ring with crisp melodies and compositional nous. 299 is the solo recording project of Welsh multi-instrumentalist and producer Gavin Fitzjohn (who has worked with the likes of Manic Street Preachers, Gruff Rhys, James Dean Bradfield, Paolo Nutini and more), with 299 coming to life a few years ago while Fitzjohn was making his way across the US. Intoxicating, dangerous in its allure, there are flecks of '60s vocal groups and Tom Waits-style melancholia tied up in Fitzjohn's deliberate American drawl.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

When Greg Freeman quietly released his debut album I Looked Out in 2022, it was immediately clear to the small community who heard it that the Vermont songwriter captured something intangibly exciting and distinctly American. Across 10 explosive songs that meld knotty indie rock with pastoral twang, he sings with a zealous urgency of shipwrecks, biblical visions, doomed drifters, dams breaking, and lives left in rearview mirrors. His evocative writing paints a world where revelation or ruin is behind every corner but it always leaves room for hope and human connection. A resoundingly confident LP, it’s a testament to Burlington’s vibrant music community and the pure magic of opening yourself up to creative risks and collaboration.

Now, for the first time, I Looked Out has been pressed to vinyl. Out digitally on Nov. 20 and on vinyl Jan. 17 via Canvasback/Transgressive, two bonus tracks are also available. On the digital release, there’s an acoustic duet version of “Long Distance Driver” with Merce Lemon, and on the vinyl, there’s the noisy sound collage “Sound Tests, Scraps, Lists.” Greg Freeman will release new music and this album’s full-length follow-up in 2025."

When Greg Freeman quietly released his debut album I Looked Out in 2022, it was immediately clear to the small community who heard it that the Vermont songwriter captured something intangibly exciting and distinctly American. Across 10 explosive songs that meld knotty indie rock with pastoral twang, he sings with a zealous urgency of shipwrecks, biblical visions, doomed drifters, dams breaking, and lives left in rearview mirrors. His evocative writing paints a world where revelation or ruin is behind every corner but it always leaves room for hope and human connection. A resoundingly confident LP, it’s a testament to Burlington’s vibrant music community and the pure magic of opening yourself up to creative risks and collaboration.

Now, for the first time, I Looked Out has been pressed to vinyl. Out digitally on Nov. 20 and on vinyl Jan. 17 via Canvasback/Transgressive, two bonus tracks are also available. On the digital release, there’s an acoustic duet version of “Long Distance Driver” with Merce Lemon, and on the vinyl, there’s the noisy sound collage “Sound Tests, Scraps, Lists.” Greg Freeman will release new music and this album’s full-length follow-up in 2025."

BASIC is a mind-meld between Chris Forsyth, his frequent running partner (and formidable 6-string thinker) Nick Millevoi, and Mikel Patrick Avery (Natural Information Society). "This Is BASIC", their debut album, is a complex and entrancing instrumental LP recasting forgotten scraps of guitar history into a moving mosaic of strings, skins and electronics. Taking inspiration (and their name) from the 1984 Robert Quine/Fred Maher album ("Basic"), Forsyth and Millevoi got together for a run of low-key jam sessions using an Alesis drum machine for rhythm tracks and forging a collaborative language from angular polyrhythms, pulsing baritone-guitar lines, and shimmering chorus-pedal washes (another stylistic nod, this time to the glistening post-punk of the Durutti Column and numerous 4AD bands). Avery was soon enlisted on drum kit_a setup that quickly morphed into a single drum, bell, and a bespoke electronics rig of his own creation. The trio quickly flowered into an improvisational swirl of disorienting electronics, hypnotic throb, and dense flanged-guitar harmonics: three unique voices spinning a complex conversation of textures and rhythms.

"In the wake of SQUID PISSER’s “Vaporize A Neighbor” EP and Comic Book Set and “Vaporize A Tadpole” Collection comes “Dreams of Puke”, the band’s second full length album. Weighing in at a meaty 12 songs and cut at a lean 45 revolutions per minute, “Dreams of Puke” refuses to let up or let down - emitting climax after scintillating climax - a bounteous bouquet of dayglow viscera and tumor-filled sonic snot.

“Dreams of Puke” is the face ripping, dolphin-loving, anthropomorphized mountain of nuclear sludge intravenously injected with methamphetamines that listeners have been clamoring for. Tommy Meehan's use of effects pedals and sonic textures create a dense soundscape of intestinal debris, mortared with a grout of pus, goo, gummy candy and pure, unadulterated insanity. Meanwhile, Seth Carolina's all out, rage-fueled and categorically pummeling approach to slamming the beats down lays out a visceral scene of absolute intensity - a great white shark attack on The Mall of America.

Tommy explains “The writing sessions for this album resulted in about 100 songs... Demos, seedlings, and scraps were strewn about everywhere. Then Seth and I assembled them into a viable and tangible fruition. I tracked all of the guitars, bass, and vocals myself at Los Angeles’ Castle Barf Studios. The drums we did at Sea Horse Sound downtown”.

“Dreams Of Puke” is an aural DMT trip that will leave brains boggled. Its atonal anthems of slime are a kaleidoscope of brilliant, bespeckled rage that, in the end, will scalp the world & mutate the throne.

Glass Mastered Compact Disc includes Mystery Matrix Message and comes packaged in a Six Panel Tri-Fold Jacket with corresponding Fold-Over Lyric Insert. LP and CD formats each sport unique, subliminally different cover art by painter Gregory Jacobsen of the band Lovely Little Girls. Parental Advisory: Explicit content"

The relatively short life of San Francisco's Aluminum has so far yielded a single (Spinning Backwards, 2020) and an EP (Windowpane, 2022), but their debut LP, Fully Beat, overflows with tenured confidence and a singular style that deftly comprises shoegaze, big beat, and jangle pop. With influences ranging from Orbital, to Wipers, to The Avalanches and Sly and the Family Stone, theirs is a multifaceted take on established forms, fed through fuzz and led by honeyed, male-female vocal harmonies from Bay Area post-punk veterans Marc Leyda (of Wild Moth) and Ryann Gonsalves (of Torrey). "Smile" begins with deceptive sparseness, adding neon swirls of stacked tremolo over a mesmerizing lyrical refrain, and hinting at the dynamism to come with understated grace and grit. "Always Here, Never There" is Fully Beat's first pure hit of melodic pop: its liquid bass groove winds beneath a melancholy-sweet synth hook and Leyda's plaintive vocals, while drummer Chris Natividad's deep, pillowy snare and propulsive style maintain a driving pace. Lead single, "Behind My Mouth", shifts gears into a big beat shuffle and howl of overdriven guitars, which relent to Gonsalves' rolling bassline and playful, snarky vocal. Composed across several weeks of experimentation, it is a prime iteration of Aluminum's meticulous world of sound, which nevertheless carries an air of wry nonchalance. Asking, "Do you ever see behind my mouth?", Gonsalves notes that the song "comes from a place of wanting to be understood authentically, and to communicate intentionally." This approach speaks to the album's broader theme of exhaustion amid the demands of the modern grind: working unfulfilling jobs to pay exorbitant rent, feeling society break at the seams, and trying to maintain a meaningful personal life with the remaining scraps of morale. The response, then, must be to find joy. These songs were crafted over a half-dozen months in basements and practice spaces, creating an abundance of authentic passion and catharsis that's as nostalgic and comforting as a cherished, tattered band t-shirt. The closer, "Upside Down", is a full-throttle blare of joyous release - "a straight-up love song," according to Leyda. The deliberate choice to end it with a gradual fade, rather than a dramatic climax, smartly suggests the ambivalence of acceptance - perhaps fitting, when considering the immensity of the album's subject matter. It also hints that there is much more to be said, and as such a rich and compelling debut, Fully Beat shows that Aluminum are only getting started.

Part of a (very) loose but somewhat like minded kaleidoscope where one can trace something like a Portuguese hauntology, centred around labels like Russian Library or Prisma Sonora Records, Alexandre Centeio joins Discrepant with the surefire release of 'Panorama'. A multi-instrumentalist and sound artist based in Porto, Centeio - who is also part of Stellarays and The Murmurous Playground - delivers his second album under his own name after 2022's 'Movanta'.

Signalling a departure from the intimate synth driven beautifully soothing landscapes of 'Movanta' while still working within a realm where space and memory play a significant part of both escapism and connection, 'Panorama' opens itself up to a "surrealistic soundscape filled with real and dreamt sound", perfectly illustrated by Ruca Bourbon’s artwork. A sonic fiction conjured from a variety of sources - hand drums, disembodied voices, scraps of unknown realities, skewed loops, oneiric collages, flutes, spectral synths - that float freely between disruption and continuity but within their own internal logic. A very particular and hallucinatory one at that, mind ya. Collapsing notions of time and geography in an aural canvas totally aligned with Discrepant's ethos. 'Panorama' indeed.

Epic, grooving, dazzlingly creative, perfectly attuned blends of complex mbalax drumming, field recordings, thumping kick-drum, and cosmic, bubbling, jamming synths and electronics.

The opening is suitably liminal, haunted by a diachronic sense of times past, present, and to come: ancestral ghosts, scratched playback, scraps of old recordings, voices strangulated or just out of range; puttering drums; futuristic, kosmische keys. Part II picks up the pace; III gives the drummers some, and heightens the atmosphere of enchantment. Jon Hassell’s Fourth World music courses through a kind of Dream Theory In Dakar.

Toco SOS, the second side, is a thumping, throbbing, mesmeric future-classic; perfect for fahr’n fahr’n fahr’n on the Autobahn… in a spacecraft. Expert hand percussion, call-and-response singing, bin-trembling foot-drum, spaceways keys. Sleekly funky as prime Popol Vuh.

Both sides range expansively by way of Berlin, where Lamin resided for a few years: you can hear something of T++’s brilliant, landmark HJ record on the A, and elements of Mark Ernestus’ crucial Ndagga project, on the B.

Half an hour of stunning music; in a beautiful sleeve, with mirror lettering, and an intricate spot-gloss rendition of salt crystals, laid over a photograph of the salt mines at Lac Rose, outside Dakar.

After three first albums, two of which were certified platinum and gold, Pomme unveils her new project “Saisons”. A conceptual and orchestral album conceived as a modern opera presented in four movements divided into two editions autumn-winter and spring-summer. This first fall-winter part is available on vinyl made from recycled vinyl scraps, in limited edition. The singer is accompanied by Flavien Berger featuring on the autumnal act and Aaron Dessner who co-composes the winter act. Limited Vinyl.Reviews and Ads in R2 Mojo, and London Macadam

For the better part of the last 15 years, the duo of Max Dameron (guit/vox) and Sam Ford (drums/vox) have been too weird and too wild for this lame-ass planet. After enjoying vagabond stints living in Portland, Los Angeles, and Brooklyn, they now call Detroit home. Here they rebuild, out of the scraps and wreckage of the 21st century, something which casts aside any rules or adherence to banal tropes. Specializing in the unexpected, Max and Sam have wrought an individual sound that’s as much post-Melvins sludge punk as it is futurist prog metal. Their forthcoming self-titled debut, recorded in 2022 at High-Bias in Detroit, puts on display the fruits of their metamorphosis. From the soaring triumphal fuzz of “Uncanny Valley” or the sweep and thrust of “House of Butterflies” their craft is precise, they’re just making up their own shapes to sculpt. Times change and artists mature: now under the name PSYCHIC TRASH, Ford and Dameron come to Riding Easy Records as veterans turning a fresh page, reinvigorated at the prospect of forging a new path and the beneficiaries of about a decade and a half’s slog through the underground. Psychic Trash’s self-titled debut is unmistakably uncompromising, a little theatrical, intermittently manic, and deceptively broad in style for just how much punk rests beneath.

Orange vinyl. Time is supposed to mellow us, but for Petrol Girls it has distilled their feminist politics into an ever more potent cocktail. Fitting, given that their logo from day one has been a flaming molotov. Since their formation in 2012, the band has been known for playing fast-paced, chaotic punk that takes aim at everything from sexual violence to immigration policy, but over the last few years their sound has evolved in a more nuanced direction. Their 2016 debut album Talk of Violence was a blast of pure political rage, while 2019's Cut & Stitch saw vocalist Ren Aldridge exploring familiar themes from a more personal perspective. Now their latest offering, Baby - to be released through the London-based independent label Hassle on June 24th - sees the band turn another new corner. This time, by embracing irreverence. "We wanted this album to be less epic and less preachy from day one," Aldridge says. "I hate sanctimoniousness. Like, really fucking hate it. But I also know that I have been mega preachy, and felt very pressured to be sanctimonious, because we've always played in a very political punk scene. I lost my fun side, and I really needed to come back to that." Recorded with Pete Miles at Middle Farm Studios in Devon, Baby embraces a more playful sound. A focus on groove and repetition - driven by guitarist Joe York, drummer Zock and bassist Robin Gatt - give the songs a Talking Heads feel, while retaining the band's formative post-punk energy. The lyrics, too, are a departure for Aldridge. While she continues to address heavy topics like burn out, femicide and police violence, the lyrics balance directed anger with tongue-in-cheek humour where appropriate. Angular opener "Preachers" puts the self-aggrandising nature of call-out culture on blast with lyrics like "feeling dead important in the comments", while lead single "Baby, I Had An Abortion" is intentionally puerile from title to finish. On the flip side, tracks like "Violent By Design" see the band kicking back against carceral feminism in the wake of a news cycle dominated by Black Lives Matter protests and PC Wayne Cousins' brutal murder of Sarah Everard. Similarly, "Fight For Our Lives" - a harsh, borderline industrial song - was lyrically co-written by activist and vocalist Janey Starling. Aldridge deliberately wrote the verses to sound like a manifesto, and the lyrics reference Starling's Dignity For Dead Women Campaign with Level Up, which successfully called for the UK media to change the way it reports on fatal incidents of domestic violence. Baby saw Petrol Girls working in new ways - scrapping entire songs rather than trying to force things that didn't feel right, recording to tape for the first time, and deliberately leaving in imperfections. It was a more carefree process, which Aldridge - having gone through a particularly bad period of mental ill-health at the start of 2021 - welcomed. "Our whole thing for a long time, and a big focus of the last record, was making political struggle sustainable," Aldridge says. "And I think having a good time where possible, and things being not totally serious all the time, is really essential."

New Zealand indie trifecta Mermaidens, are set to make a resounding splash in the music scene yet again with the announcement of their fourth self-titled album and release of the project's first single ‘I like to be alone’. The trio, comprising of Gussie Larkin (guitar/vocals), Lily West (bass/vocals), and Abe Hollingsworth (drums), has been on an impressive journey of musical excellence, boasting three critically acclaimed albums, international tours, and a slew of accolades to their name. With a sound that is both bold and adventurous, Mermaidens' music is a testament to their unwavering creativity and relentless work ethic. Their upcoming self-titled album, a product of the band's tireless efforts between 2019 - 2022, promises to be a captivating sonic journey, delving into themes of self-awareness, introspection, long-term love, and even channelling political anger and frustration. Recorded mainly at Surgery Studios in Wellington, with the engineering prowess of Lee Prebble and produced by Samuel Flynn-Scott of The Phoenix Foundation fame, the album also saw the band stepping up their production game with Gussie and Lily working their magic with Protools in their DIY home studios, showcasing their growth and versatility as artists. “Working with Sam has really been a round-trip in our creativity,” as Lily explains, “we grew up listening to Sam’s early records and here we are getting the inside scoop on how to make that kind of magic. Listening to Pegasus today still transports me to a time when I listened to music on a Walkman. In the best possible way - sometimes it felt like we’d added an evil genius to the mix, we’d be working on a song and he’d come in like a mad scientist with fresh ideas to try.” To give fans a taste of the upcoming album's brilliance, Mermaidens have released new single 'I like to be alone.' The song has been part of the band's live repertoire for a while and explores the fulfilling contentment of being alone and the struggle to convey this sentiment to a partner. Its relatable lyrics capture the essence of cherishing solitude while navigating the complexities of human connections. Gussie's candid and honest approach to self-discovery is complemented by the song's, Michel Gondry inspired video, as Gussie explains: “The giant jean pocket and denim world were created by Hannah Webster, a textile designer and illustrator based in Wellington. Hannah took all the wild ideas for props and made them come true! I’m still in awe of how she managed to sew a 6x6 metre backdrop for the denim world out of whatever scraps she could find. The video captures our playfulness and sense of humour, and is a hint of what’s to come for the rest of the music videos. I love the way the story wraps up with the three of us together, literally playing “in the pocket”. Mermaidens' self-titled album will be released on Friday 3 November 2023 and is available for pre-order now. UK listeners will be able to pick up an exclusive Rough Trade vinyl pressing in transparent red, along with an A3 poster and jumbo bumper sticker. Having released their last two albums through iconic local label Flying Nun, Mermaidens will be released independently. Creative control is an important pillar for the band, who are hands on in every facet of their projects. Mermaidens gather their community close via their hugely popular multi-city boutique festival Mermgrown, hosting peers including Womb, Hans Pucket, Vera Ellen (Girl Friday) and Kōtiro from 2021 onwards. They've been invited to share the stage with Death Cab For Cutie, Sleater-Kinney, Gang of Four, Parquet Courts, Lorde and The Veils, and have toured extensively in Europe, the UK, and Australia.

Moments of eternity: the first plucks at the strings, a bass note cementing the drift into place a little more than a minute in. The organ drones, iterating unrelivable ancient history, a chiming note of the church. Guitars strings, climbing that stairway to heaven. Gossamer-light when viewed from a distance; up close, the gears grind with a visceral physicality. With BCMC, Cooper Crain and Bill MacKay unite to create Foreign Smokes: provocalogues, equal parts avant-garde noir and fire-and-icy jams to recall bright shades and warm stretches of infinity drawn through the buzzy overdrive of this side of life"s strange and sunny days. Cooper"s organ and synths and Bill"s guitar draw songs from spontaneous statements and elegiac scraps, floating closer, then farther, and closer again to the sounds of the other. Starting with a melody, as set of progressions or even as little as a scale or just a key, gives room for either one of "em to take the lead, depending on where they are or are going at any given time. The reigning motif most often seems to be, to melt and wind around each other"s sound, part of a singular undulation, handed back and forth, a slowly emerging trip up into and through an ideal of exuberance.

“It was a rainy day at the recycling centre in Leitrim. There, amongst the tangle of discarded kettles and broken-down toasters, I first laid eyes on her…” A few years after her stand-out contribution to our ‘Wacker That’ compilation and following a bunch of purple patch releases for Nyahh Records, TakuRoko, Fort Evil Fruit and Eiderdown Records, Natalia Beylis graces Touch Sensitive with a true landmark album for the label – ‘Mermaids. Recorded both at home in Leitrim and at neighbour Mat Warren’s studio (Studio Moo Moo – a converted cow shed), ‘Mermaids’ was inspired by two salvaged items: a CRB Elettronica Ancona - Model: Diamond 708 E electric keyboard from the local tip and a photo taken by her father found in a pile of old family scraps. Smuggled home in the back of the van and ridded of the nine purple crayons lodged inside, the keyboard sounded perfect to Natalia; “The sounds that come from her when I play always move me like water; swimming in rivers and floating in the murk beneath the surface.” The striking image which would become the cover art features Natalia’s mother and two friends during a dip in the ocean. We see three women hanging out on a large rock – their bad-ass hairdos and poses perfectly framed and saturated in sepia. “There are complete siren vibes coming from the rock. Three women, three girls, three witches, three mermaids. I wish I was one of them. Or friends with them.’ After testing compositions and recordings for months on the rescued keys, the discovery of her father’s image formed the final work: “A confluence of the sounds and the image charged through me, and the album began to flicker into being.” Much like the push and pull of the River Shannon, Natalia’s own local swimming spot, ‘Mermaids’ flow is both organic but unstoppable. Anchored around the album’s hypnotic 17-minute title track, we are fully immersed within this subaquatic suite from the first splash. Alongside the keyboard’s glistening tone, field recordings from Natalia’s expansive archive bring us back up for air; taking stops to check in with the chittering chickens and ducks of Athlone. In keeping with her back catalogue and extensive body of work, ‘Mermaids’ exists within its own imagined universe. This is truly singular work that continues to underline Natalia as one of the finest underground artists of her time. We wholeheartedly encourage you to take a forty-minute sonic dip into a deep, murky, watery world of her own creation.

On their sophomore effort Tusky, surrealist duet Robbie & Mona ascend beyond the lo-fi scrawlings of their debut album to something altogether more grandiose. Between the lights down drama of sprawling opener ‘Sensation’, to the ‘roll credits’ coda of closer ‘Always Gonna Be A Dead Man’, Tusky exists as a glitzy, lucid journey playing out before the listener.
While debut album EW captured William Carkeet and Ellie Gray as they were finding their feet with one another, creating Tusky was a wholly symbiotic process from day one. “We got better at knowing what each other wanted,” William offers. “This was the album that we were trying to make from the beginning.”

Simultaneously evoking multiple eras of music, the album drifts through worlds of synth pop, jazz, trap, drill, ballroom waltz and leftfield electronica, with the scatterbrain sound palette melded by a peppering of instrumental motifs and William’s addiction to sampling sounds across multiple tracks. “I wanted there to be this weird dimensional thing going on,” William explains, “where songs from the album are playing in multiple places.”

The record sees an expansive cast of musicians assembled, with a much heavier focus on live instrumentation than previous outings. Alongside the expected fare of crackly synths, samplers and drum machines, Tusky gets its glossy sheen from a rich tapestry of jazz drums, double bass, grand piano and saxophone.

Most of the tracks are laden with improvised saxophone from Campbell Baum (Sorry, Broadside Hacks) and Ben Vince (Housewives, Joy Orbison), much of which was scrambled by William in post-production, lifting scraps from one song and layering them atop an entirely different track. Elsewhere, session musicians were cherry picked, including Bingo Fury, his drummer Henry Terrett, and a string ensemble led by Caelia Lunniss and Jo Silverston (Spindle Ensemble).

Most surprising is a rap feature from Monika (of South-East London collective Nukuluk), who brings album centrepiece ‘Mildred’ to new heights with a fiery verse on pain. Aside from being the most unlikely addendum to a sombre piano ballad, it demonstrates Robbie & Mona’s natural state of playfulness, forever following emotions and sensuality over any notion of traditional compositional boundaries.
Many of Tusky's tracks owe their inception to cinema, be it the soundtrack to Betty Blue, the glowing films of Wim Wenders, or the surprising parallels between La Belle Et La Bete and Bad Boys. Equally, much of Robbie & Mona's new-found sense of tension and spectacle comes from William’s recent work soundtracking independent filmmakers, while Ellie gave greater priority to threading a narrative through her stream of consciousness writing style.

In all its majesty, Tusky celebrates creativity with creation. “If you begin to see fiction as real, you can reincarnate and become different things. You can grow,” Ellie implores. “Nothing stays the same. You can shed old characters in yourself. There’s great joy in that.”

Tapestry is a work born from collaboration, homage and the best sound.

“La Collaboración” is created when Arturo Bambini, a producer, jazz bassist and full-time musician, meets a young Lynx 196.9 on the other side of the world, a poet and rapper from Philadelphia who captivates him with his rhymes. And its deep and melancholic tone.

From this understanding arises this work, “El Homenaje” by Lynx to Carole King's Tapestry album, whose sound accompanied him throughout his childhood.

“Tapestry” lives up to its name and like a good “Tapiz” it was built with scraps in the form of collaborations such as Dirty Winters, Simón Taibi or the masterful Kool Keith (AKA Dr. Octagon / Dr. Dooom!)

All this sewn with the mastery of Arturo Bambini, the Italian musician based in Barcelona, ​​who with his red tracksuit and rat head wraps us through hip hop and jazz with an urban cadence taken from the very heart of the "best sound".

Made from coloured vinyl scraps, each copy will be unique in a random colour.

Compilation of 10 tracks as short as effective, accompanied for the occasion by instrumental versions.

By now a regular and esteemed presence among the Discrepant sprawling household via releases with projects such as Alförjs or Jibóia, Mestre André "resurrects" his O Morto alias (bad pun somewhat intended) after 2016 'The Forest, The People And The Spirits'. With a diaristic approach where field recordings function as remnants of his surrounding reality and subsequent memories to be processed and recontextualized into an expressionist whole, O Morto expands that previous Discrepant release sonic palette unto uncharted cartographies. 

Based on a number of field recordings taken during a life-changing trip to Morocco that felt like a fever dream, 'Dans La Gorge D'un Monstre' reenacts that hazy and hallucinatory mindframe through five tracks where no vivid recollection persists, tainted by the extrasensory feeling of not being quite there. A sonic fiction that goes from the processed cymbals and pummelling drums of 'The Gorge' with Andrés' mates in Jibóia, through moroccan Gimbri player Ayoub El Ayady and Khalid Boulhaman’s rattling Krakebs on 'Lila' and the slowed down Eccojams vibes of 'Out of the Atlas' to the dreamy aquatic soundscapes and arpeggios of the appropriately titled ‘Princesas Batráquio'. Comprising the whole of the B side, 'A Desert of Rain' is a slow evolving wonder where gong-like tones drift beneath scrambled transmissions of unknown origin, eventually giving way to synapse inducing drone motifs and scraps of realities collapsing among themselves - fire into water, a jetstream into steps, maybe none of this. 

Along with the LP, the release comes with a companion piece tape titled 'Iffrits Habitent', a more impressionistic and unadulterated account of the same travel that could well be this side of the mirror. Then again, maybe he never made it from the other side. Who's to know?

Prior to tracking First Step Beyond, Chicago proto-metal quintet Medusa headed three miles west to the Village of Oak Park and cut their debut 7" at Stephen Wilcox's Pepperhead custom studio. The resulting versions of "Strangulation" and "Temptress" are a touch further unhinged than their sororal album twins, as phased-out scraps of psychedelia and bleeding solos maxed out Pepperhead's 8-track rig. Pressed in a strictly limited quantity of 1000 copies.

Yellow Vinyl

Kate NV's WOW offers listeners a prismatic shift in perspective and scale, a parallel dimension in which the mundane becomes funny, unfamiliar, and altogether sensational. Turning the contents of her 2020 album Room for the Moon upside down and spilling them across a floor checkered with intrigue and surprise, Kate places sound, object, and ritual under the microscope to magnify the delight hidden in plain sight of everyday life. WOW is Kate Shilonosova's fourth full-length release as Kate NV in six years, and third for RVNG Intl. Her prolific musical output aligns with a highly attuned aesthetic and a deep commitment to visual world building. WOW is one of many of these worlds in which music is fully saturated with color, deeply tactile and textural. Shiny, sproingy, plastic. Where Room for the Moon embraced structure (abstractly speaking) and veered pop, WOW happily abandons conventional song shapes, parsing the experience of musical time into ecstatic fragments. It's difficult to imagine a more fitting album title: pure exclamation, an organic pitch of delight leaving the mouth, with no clear etymological links. On Room for the Moon, Shilonosova's voice was layered and lyrical, with sweeping and urgent melodies. WOW finds her as a peripheral purveyor of high jinks, peeking out from the corners, commenting on her surroundings in non-verbal, and arguably non-human, utterances. Instead of employing lyricism, Shilonosova steps outside of language, and rewards us with a gum ball machine of textures: soda fizz and wind-up teeth and scraps of bubble wrap become comically huge, as if heard from an insect's perspective. Words are tasty plosives, onomatopoeias, percussive chirps and one-liners, and singing serves as another form of what Shilonosova refers to as "funny tiny sounds." WOW skews and skitters, trips over its own feet and laughs about it, plays out of tune on purpose, tilts and leans like a top-heavy flower. Shilonosova is a longtime user of Found Sound Nation's Broken Orchestra sample pack, a sound catalog of over one thousand dilapidated instruments sourced from Philadelphia public schools. These perfectly imperfect instruments are tightly spliced into WOW's patchwork of synthesizer and reworked snippets of Shilonosova's friends playing clarinet, flute, and marimba. It's central to the record's internal logic: a disregard for what is, and isn't, broken, what is, and isn't, a sentence or a song. A commingling of subject and object, with a firmly new wave sensibility. Shilonosova has long had an unusual relationship with inanimate objects (citing her bicycle as her best friend), as if the joys they evoke for her are personality traits of the objects themselves. On WOW, she evinces a kind of inverted anthropomorphism: she shrinks her voice and becomes an object among multitudes, toylike in size and perspective, cohabitating with sedentary, indifferent roommates. This pursuit of childlike perspectives is a thread that runs through much of her catalog, and places her work on a plane with that of her personal hero Nobukazu Takemura, who for decades has treated his music as a portal to childlike curiosity, both in subject matter and tone. With an invitation to pursue this curiosity, WOW further confirms Kate NV's deeply inventive, fluid and technically dizzying artistry. By refusing constraints and rules, Shilonosova embodies a profound freedom, allowing objects, sounds, and processes to unfold organically; or, as she puts it, a commitment to "accepting randomness." She succeeds terrifically at a breed of auditory defamiliarization that is all her own, and the rewards for listeners are many: through her lens, the small becomes monstrous, the abstract becomes sensorial, and the old becomes new. Kate NV's WOW will be released on February 10, 2023 on vinyl and digital formats. On behalf of Kate NV and RVNG, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit War Child, an organization that supports children and their families impacted by conflict, and working to build sustainable peace for generations to come.

Kate NV's WOW offers listeners a prismatic shift in perspective and scale, a parallel dimension in which the mundane becomes funny, unfamiliar, and altogether sensational. Turning the contents of her 2020 album Room for the Moon upside down and spilling them across a floor checkered with intrigue and surprise, Kate places sound, object, and ritual under the microscope to magnify the delight hidden in plain sight of everyday life. WOW is Kate Shilonosova's fourth full-length release as Kate NV in six years, and third for RVNG Intl. Her prolific musical output aligns with a highly attuned aesthetic and a deep commitment to visual world building. WOW is one of many of these worlds in which music is fully saturated with color, deeply tactile and textural. Shiny, sproingy, plastic. Where Room for the Moon embraced structure (abstractly speaking) and veered pop, WOW happily abandons conventional song shapes, parsing the experience of musical time into ecstatic fragments. It's difficult to imagine a more fitting album title: pure exclamation, an organic pitch of delight leaving the mouth, with no clear etymological links. On Room for the Moon, Shilonosova's voice was layered and lyrical, with sweeping and urgent melodies. WOW finds her as a peripheral purveyor of high jinks, peeking out from the corners, commenting on her surroundings in non-verbal, and arguably non-human, utterances. Instead of employing lyricism, Shilonosova steps outside of language, and rewards us with a gum ball machine of textures: soda fizz and wind-up teeth and scraps of bubble wrap become comically huge, as if heard from an insect's perspective. Words are tasty plosives, onomatopoeias, percussive chirps and one-liners, and singing serves as another form of what Shilonosova refers to as "funny tiny sounds." WOW skews and skitters, trips over its own feet and laughs about it, plays out of tune on purpose, tilts and leans like a top-heavy flower. Shilonosova is a longtime user of Found Sound Nation's Broken Orchestra sample pack, a sound catalog of over one thousand dilapidated instruments sourced from Philadelphia public schools. These perfectly imperfect instruments are tightly spliced into WOW's patchwork of synthesizer and reworked snippets of Shilonosova's friends playing clarinet, flute, and marimba. It's central to the record's internal logic: a disregard for what is, and isn't, broken, what is, and isn't, a sentence or a song. A commingling of subject and object, with a firmly new wave sensibility. Shilonosova has long had an unusual relationship with inanimate objects (citing her bicycle as her best friend), as if the joys they evoke for her are personality traits of the objects themselves. On WOW, she evinces a kind of inverted anthropomorphism: she shrinks her voice and becomes an object among multitudes, toylike in size and perspective, cohabitating with sedentary, indifferent roommates. This pursuit of childlike perspectives is a thread that runs through much of her catalog, and places her work on a plane with that of her personal hero Nobukazu Takemura, who for decades has treated his music as a portal to childlike curiosity, both in subject matter and tone. With an invitation to pursue this curiosity, WOW further confirms Kate NV's deeply inventive, fluid and technically dizzying artistry. By refusing constraints and rules, Shilonosova embodies a profound freedom, allowing objects, sounds, and processes to unfold organically; or, as she puts it, a commitment to "accepting randomness." She succeeds terrifically at a breed of auditory defamiliarization that is all her own, and the rewards for listeners are many: through her lens, the small becomes monstrous, the abstract becomes sensorial, and the old becomes new. Kate NV's WOW will be released on February 10, 2023 on vinyl and digital formats. On behalf of Kate NV and RVNG, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit War Child, an organization that supports children and their families impacted by conflict, and working to build sustainable peace for generations to come.

"Infinite Echo" is a fresh suite of voyaging Balearica, tinged with ocean mist. Over the years, the incredible British duo Seahwaks have crafted an expansive catalogue of trippy and cosmically-influenced, ambient instrumentals, which has seen them collaborate with the likes of Badly Drawn Boy, Tim Burgess and Jon Goddard (of Hot Chip). Helmed by perennial co-captains Jon Tye (founder of Lo Recordings) and Pete Fowler (acclaimed Welsh visual artist), their latest collection emerged from a series of scraps and vignettes informed by a breadth of eclectic chillness (mid-80's digital new age in the Higher Octave vein, Michael McDonald remixed by Oneohtrix Point Never, etc.), then fleshed out with Lyra Pramuk's Siren Songs app and Holly Herndon's Holly+ software, rendering it choral, otherworldly, and "emotional in a new kind of way." The results sound elevated and ineffable, like music heard at the edge of dreams, hinting at worlds yet to come.

Jackie Cohen decided the only way forward was to succumb to crisis, to
relax into it instead of fighting, to find beauty even in the flame an
approach that fuels her sublime new album, Pratfall
Because of the record's pandemic origins, Cohen was only aided in studio by two
collaborators: her husband, Foxygen's Jonathan Rado, and engineer Rias Reed.
"We were a tight pod," she laughs. The three musicians holed up at Sonora
Recorders in Los Angeles, tapping into the studio's vaulted ceilings and haunted
feeling to amplify Cohen's widescreen songwriting. "Elliott Smith recorded some
stuff there, and it always seemed like there was a ghost banging around in there,
turning lights on and off," she says, before adding a cheery followup: "Shakira
recorded there too, can't forget another 5'2" icon." On Pratfall, Cohen renders both
extremes of that range of experience in warm, inviting indie pop. "I didn't want to
write a dirge inspired by the darkest moments of my life, I wanted a cathartic
moment, to experience the emotion and build from it," Cohen says. "This record is
a climax where everything becomes explosive and you can just close your eyes,
give in, and dance it off."
LP Tracks: Two Days / Coup De Grace / The Valley / Pratfall / Ghost Story /
Moonstruck / Dire Love / Lost Without Fear / Some Days / Extra Credit / Scraps
Of Love

In the gutter lie sun dried leaves, scraps of paper, burnt matches and cigarette butts. It is early morning; the sun rises with warm grace. you've come to the right party... you see, the body of a young man sitting by a pool, nobody important, really. Just a movie writer with a couple of "b" pictures to his credit. He always wanted a pool. Well, in the end he got himself a pool, but let's go back some time and find the day when it all started in “Hollywood,” the place where they pay a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul.

Three years after he celebrated “Sketch of Japan” EP, Superpitcher returns to Mule Musiq, bringing an epic super-pitched 40 minutes trip named “Hollywood”, that perfectly works as the score for the above remixed opening scene of a famous movie on the trances of Hollywood, the cage, that catch our dreams. It’s a slow grower, incorporating some of core elements of the city of celluloid dreams: action, drama, romance - all epic noir and yet so flooded by light. As ever the producer and DJ from Paris garnished his long building up and going down voyage with se-ducing melodies, glamorous pop, and psychic rhythms, creating the hippy dance ambiences he is famed for. Even though the twelve inch comes in accustomed a/b chapters, “Hollywood” should be perceived in one go to feel the depth of Superpitcher’s tropical leaning story arc, that stretches the idea of a track into a dream of satin teardrops on flickering velvet lights. It paints sonic celluloid pictures of ghostly creatures, while a female/male voice is the music’s constant melodic companion, injection Janus-faced longing dream pop spheres on the overall tripping house melancholy. A heroic electronic drama, elegant as Tamara de Lempicka painting. It asks for endless rides on the Hollywood freeways. in the back the sun – a big orange ball – sinking slowly below the horizon.

You've come to the right party... you see, the body of a young man sitting by a pool, in the back a long, graceful bar, bathed in soft light, filled with elegant customers. There's nothing else, just us and the music and those wonderful people out there in the dark, ready for a divine dance in closeup.

Eltons 28. Soloalbum „The Captain And The Kid” erscheint am 2. September erneut.

Das Album wurde im Jahr 2006 veröffentlicht und war eine direkte Fortsetzung des Albums „Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy“ von 1975, welches als eines der besten seiner Karriere gilt. „The Captain And The Kid“ beschreibt das Leben von Elton und Bernie Taupin in den dazwischen liegenden Jahren. Da Elton zu Beginn des 21. Jahrhunderts eine künstlerische Wiederbelebung erlebte, kehrte er zum Sound und Gefühl seiner frühen Soloalben zurück.

Das Album erscheint als 1LP und enthält zwei Booklets mit Lyrics und Scraps.

Wardown, the emotive and experimental project from Technimatic's Pete Rogers, releases second LP on Blu Mar Ten Music

Where the debut Wardown album was a diary of smeared memory, musically recounting the author's childhood home and his subsequent feelings of dislocation from it, Wardown II expands on the themes of nostalgia and focuses on our collective reactions to a promised future that remains undelivered.

Using aural scraps from that most optimistically futurist period, the 1950s & 1960s, Wardown weaves them into an uneasily dreamy, bittersweet commentary on postmodern nostalgia. The album veers between otherworldly, euphoric harmonies and pumping, mechanical incantations of promises for a new age.

By now counting more than four decades of constant activity, Pierre Bastien erected such a towering and influential body of work that any blurb attempt regarding his music could easily fall into redundancy. Not that his revolving soundworld, deeply personal and unique, has ever stalled into gimmick or self mimicry, being Bastien the tireless explorer whose vision can never be complete, only continuously redefined in a process of discovery equally playful and challenging. So, completely in touch with Discrepant's ethos. 

Returning to the label after 2017 The Mecanocentric Worlds of Pierre Bastien, the french musician, composer and instrument builder, brings an array of instruments from different cartographies and legacies with the appropriately titled Sonic Folkways. Resorting to different types of horns, prepared trumpet, an army of percussion, from gongs and tambourine to castanets and maracas, violin and too many others to mention here, Bastien weaves together a highly textured and hypnotic mosaic that projects an exotica beamed from scraps of the future. 'Aha!' in the same interstellar wavelength as Sun Ra's cosmic tones, 'Moor's Room’ almost orchestral tapestry of small percussion and insects or the non-western strings and tunings salvaged from ancient alien ceremonies on 'Pan's Nap'. 

In an era where so much ink has been shed about world building in experimental music, Bastien can actually claim that to himself. The otherworld is right here, indeed.

"My aim for my new record was to find really unusual combinations,"
explains Rolf Kühn, in cheerful mood after his last day in the studio
The special attraction of these 13 'Spotlights' emanates from the extraordinary
combination of instruments and styles, and above all from the fact that a group
of virtuoso artists from very different musical backgrounds have come together
to participate in a a project very close to their hearts. The theme running through
and joining up the album is of course the unmistakable sound of Rolf Kühn's
clarinet. Hamilton de Holanda, the distinguished Brazilian expert on the bandolim,
a kind of mandolin, immerses Kühn's clarinet in Latin- sounding melancholy.
Albrecht Mayer, international classical star and solo oboist with the Berlin
Philharmonic, provides a fascinating angle with his highly sensitive playing and
the rich facets of his art. Asja Valcic, the outstanding Croatian cellist, contributes
her impressive, classical virtuosity and daring improvisation, as she races
frantically through the notes with Kühn. Christian Lillinger, the exceptional
percussionist with the Rolf Kühn Unit, adds his wild groove to the mix and 0 like
Berlin bassist Oliver Potratz - accentuates the tense dynamic mood. Ed Motta,
heavyweight Brazilian singer and megastar in his homeland, brings out his
baritone to sound like a synthesizer suffering voltage fluctuations, breathing and
scatting resounding word scraps into Kühn's compositions.

Joanne Shaw Taylor is a British blues rock singer/guitarist who was
discovered by Dave Stewart of The Eurythmics at the age of 16
She has released 7 albums. Her new album, The Blues Album, was recorded by
Joe Bonamassa & Josh Smith for Keeping The Blues Alive Records.
Born in the Black Country Joanne has spent a decade releasing increasingly
successful albums and touring the world. Along the way, she has won over fans
from Joe Bonamassa to Stevie Wonder to Annie Lennox. A decade ago, Joanne
moved to Detroit as her career in the States was developing. Joanne has
recorded for RUF, Sony and Silvertone with Reckless Heart and Wild both charting
in the top 20 in the UK.

Joanne Shaw Taylor is a British blues rock singer/guitarist who was
discovered by Dave Stewart of The Eurythmics at the age of 16
She has released 7 albums. Her new album, The Blues Album, was recorded by
Joe Bonamassa & Josh Smith for Keeping The Blues Alive Records.
Born in the Black Country Joanne has spent a decade releasing increasingly
successful albums and touring the world. Along the way, she has won over fans
from Joe Bonamassa to Stevie Wonder to Annie Lennox. A decade ago, Joanne
moved to Detroit as her career in the States was developing. Joanne has
recorded for RUF, Sony and Silvertone with Reckless Heart and Wild both charting
in the top 20 in the UK.

In the afterglow of her acclaimed 2020 album Silver Ladders, Los Angeles-based harpist Mary Lattimore returns with a culminating counterpart release, Collected Pieces: 2015- 2020. The limited-edition LP features new and previously unreleased material, Bandcamp-only singles, and other obscurities alongside standouts from her 2017 tape Collected Pieces. Beyond the vinyl compendium, an expanded tracklist on the cassette/digital version brings more of Lattimore's archives together for the first time. Lattimore has described the process of arranging these releases as akin to "opening a box filled with memories," and here that box continues to populate, accessible for both the artist and fans. Evocative material separated by years, framed as a portrait of an instrumental storyteller who rarely pauses, recording and often sharing music as soon as it strikes her. Seemingly in constant forward motion for the last five years since her Ghostly debut, Lattimore glances back for a breath, inviting new chances to live in these fleeting moments and emotions; all the beauty, sorrow, sunshine, and darkness housed within. Opening the cassette version is "Mary, You Were Wrong," which mirrors an author's bout with a broken heart. "It's about how you have to keep on going even if you make some mistakes," she says. The bittersweet refrain cycles throughout, a little brighter every time, slowly, like the way time tends to heal. Unreleased track "Sleeping Deer" came together during Lattimore's artist residency on a cattle ranch in Wyoming. She remembers, "a small deer whose mother I think had been run over by a car would hang out in the yard. I called him Lollipop and would leave vegetable scraps out." Lollipop returned daily to eat, rest, and wait for more. The music this vision inspired is patient and droning, with light plucks giving way to deeper, vibrating tones, permeating with a sense of anticipation. Next is a newer single, "We Wave From Our Boats," which she improvised after walking her neighborhood during the early days of lockdown in 2020, and shared on her Bandcamp. "I would just wave at neighbors I didn't know in a gesture of solidarity and it reminded me of how you're compelled to wave at people on the other boat when you're on a boat yourself, or on a bridge or something. The pull to wave feels very innate and natural." The heart of the track is a somber loop, over top which Lattimore's synth notes ruminate, each a gentle shimmer of optimism in the most anxious and absurd of days. Also recorded in 2020, "What The Living Do" is inspired by Marie Howe's poem of the same name, which reflects on loss through an appreciation for the mundane messiness of being human. The echoed, slow-marching track has a distant feel to it, as if the listener is outside of it, watching life play out as a film. "Princess Nicotine (1909)" scores actual footage, a dream sequence Lattimore imagined for J. Stuart Blackton's surreal silent film Princess Nicotine; or, the Smoke Fairy. She adopted the same approach for "Polly of the Circus," explaining it was the name of one of the old silent films discovered in permafrost in the Yukon featured in the documentary Dawson City: Frozen Time, "the only copy that survived and it kind of warped in the aging process." A trove of pieces are collected here, most recorded in the moment, just Lattimore and her Lyon and Healy Concert Grand Harp, contact mics, and pedals. Like her most affecting work, these songs showcase Lattimore's gifts as an observer, able to shape her craft around emotional frequencies and scenes. Her power as a musician is rooted in how she sees the world: in vivid detail, profoundly empathic, with deep gratitude for nature and nuance.

Simultaneously a tribute to depression & wellness, L’Orange’s “The World Is Still Chaos, But I Feel Better” shows a musical & emotional growth from the North Carolina producer. Tension is built & released throughout the 23 track album. The album features guest narration from comedian Nish Kumar & Jeremy Scott (CinemaSins) as well as musicians Marc Rebillet, Solemn Brigham (Marlowe) & Jeremiah Jae. As the narrator closes the album, “The world is the same as always is. The only difference is that I feel better.”

Following the footsteps of her SUPER MILD split album with TENTENKO (TAL15) from 2019, Tokyo producer KOPY makes a welcome return to TAL with a new EP full of gritty wonders and buzzing rythm structures. Eternal EP presents two of her new tracks plus luminous remix appearances by Elena Colombi, Harmonious Thelonious and Dynamo Dreesen & SJ Tequilla.

KOPY sums it up: "For Fujiko, I had an aggressive spaciousness in mind. The track LOK made me feel like my feet were firmly on the ground."

The pièce de résistance of the entire EP might be the extended reworking by Elena Colombi (Osàre! Editions), who in her debut appearance in the producer's chair offers up a cinematic bricolage, inspired by dreams and scraps of intimate, cartoonish ambiences. The eight minute long journey is full of space, swirling alarm clocks and candid evocations of imaginary creatures and environments crossed with diverse snippets of KOPY’s two original tracks.

Harmonious Thelonious who has already shared the stage with KOPY at Düsseldorfs Salon des Amateurs, contributes a trademark HT remix which combines infectious danceable beats with injections of oddness and raw beauty.

For their KOPY KONTRAST mix DD and SJT drew inspiration from a fulminant Kopy live set in Osaka which they had witnessed while being on a tour in Japan.

The 12"EP is lavishly presented, with a fully illustrated jacket and inner sleeve design by Sarah Szscesny.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder. An evolution of her early 1980's Edinburgh-based punk band The Freeze, she launched the project upon moving to London, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. After a series of celebrated albums for the Midnight Music label as well as collaborations with This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins, Cinder migrated to the United States, becoming involved with various underground techno collectives around the Midwest and West Coast. Subsequent relocations to Hong Kong and Japan further expanded Cindytalk's horizons, resulting in a fruitful partnership with Viennese experimental institution Editions Mego, for whom she released five albums of swooning, granular atmosphere. 2021 finds her as engaged as ever, at the precipice of long-awaited back catalog reissues alongside multiple new works, guided by her lasting love of discovery and deviation: “new pathways always being uncovered.”

Across decades of activity Cinder’s body of work has forever followed its own elusive muse but nowhere is this restless spirit more apparent and ambitious than the 4th Cindytalk LP, Wappinschaw. Conceived as “a call to arms” inspired by Scotland and its struggle for independence, the title refers to an archaic Scottish battle inspection during which clan chieftains surveyed their group's weapons to ensure they were combat ready. A mindset of reflective preparation threads throughout the record, manifested in forms both naked and noisy, ancient and anguished.

Opening with an aching solo vocal rendition of the British folk standard “The First Time Ever (I Saw Your Face),” the album then surges into the Cindytalk classic, “A Song Of Changes,” sparkling and spiraling in strange waves of sorrow and joy. From there the mood fragments, tracing asymmetrical paths of feverish dirge, pensive spirituals, noir abstraction, spoken word (landmark Glaswegian writer Alasdair Gray guests on “Wheesht”), bagpipe drone, and apocalyptic post-punk. Given its aggressive eclecticism, it's not surprising that Cinder describes the creation of Wappinschaw as a “precarious” process, composed from “scraps” with abruptly shifting personnel – a situation only compounded by the impending dissolution of their label at the time, Midnight Music.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder. An evolution of her early 1980's Edinburgh-based punk band The Freeze, she launched the project upon moving to London, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. After a series of celebrated albums for the Midnight Music label as well as collaborations with This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins, Cinder migrated to the United States, becoming involved with various underground techno collectives around the Midwest and West Coast. Subsequent relocations to Hong Kong and Japan further expanded Cindytalk's horizons, resulting in a fruitful partnership with Viennese experimental institution Editions Mego, for whom she released five albums of swooning, granular atmosphere. 2021 finds her as engaged as ever, at the precipice of long-awaited back catalog reissues alongside multiple new works, guided by her lasting love of discovery and deviation: “new pathways always being uncovered.”

Across decades of activity Cinder’s body of work has forever followed its own elusive muse but nowhere is this restless spirit more apparent and ambitious than the 4th Cindytalk LP, Wappinschaw. Conceived as “a call to arms” inspired by Scotland and its struggle for independence, the title refers to an archaic Scottish battle inspection during which clan chieftains surveyed their group's weapons to ensure they were combat ready. A mindset of reflective preparation threads throughout the record, manifested in forms both naked and noisy, ancient and anguished.

Opening with an aching solo vocal rendition of the British folk standard “The First Time Ever (I Saw Your Face),” the album then surges into the Cindytalk classic, “A Song Of Changes,” sparkling and spiraling in strange waves of sorrow and joy. From there the mood fragments, tracing asymmetrical paths of feverish dirge, pensive spirituals, noir abstraction, spoken word (landmark Glaswegian writer Alasdair Gray guests on “Wheesht”), bagpipe drone, and apocalyptic post-punk. Given its aggressive eclecticism, it's not surprising that Cinder describes the creation of Wappinschaw as a “precarious” process, composed from “scraps” with abruptly shifting personnel – a situation only compounded by the impending dissolution of their label at the time, Midnight Music.

Alto saxophonist, composer and producer Logan Richardson’s career has been marked by his deep engagement with the Black American improvised music tradition as much as by his fearlessly open-minded embrace of the contemporary sounds of the global diaspora and his keen gaze towards the future.
‘AfroFuturism’ (his fifth solo album) synthesises all those elements together into a stunningly audacious statement that is epic in its scope while providing a deep, intimately personal view into its creator’s inner life.
The core of the album is a series of towering alt-rock/trap/wonky beat soundscapes created Logan’s extensive range of keyboards, synthesizers and programming along with the latest iteration of his Blues People band - Igor Osypov
on guitar and Peter Schlamb on vibes and keys, with Dominique Sanders on bass and sharing production duties, and the thunderously virtuosic drumming of Ryan J. Lee and Corey Fonville rounding out the rhythm team.
Logan intersperses these with an array of diverse sonic interludes, scraps of found audio, unexpected, limpid pools of introspective strings performed by Ezgi Karakus and quiet glades of hushed balladry from long-time collaborator, vocalist Laura Taglialatela. Over all, his unmistakable keening voice on alto sax provides the constant narrative thread. “I was trying to get back deeper to the core of my artistic voice: using fresh production processes to mix in my interconnected influences and all the sounds I hear, while trying to find a sense of roots.”
As one of today’s most singular voices in contemporary music, with AfroFuturism Richardson delivers not only a hugely impressive statement, but one with a direct and urgent message for the future that is rooted in his own and the larger contemporary Black American state of affairs, while reminding us of his musical unpredictability. One can only imagine what he’ll do next.

Previously unreleased recordings by various lineups drawn from Derek Bailey, Tristan Honsinger, Christine Jeffrey, Toshinori Kondo, Charlie Morrow, David Toop, Maarten Altena, Georgie Born, Lindsay Cooper, Steve Lacy, Radu Malfatti and Jamie Muir.

Journalists often make the brief history of Free Improvisation conform to the idea that the history of music is a nice straight line from past to present: Beethoven… Brahms… Boulez. Thus Derek Bailey, Evan Parker and John Stevens — together with Brötzmann and co across the Channel — were the trailblazing ‘first generation’, forging a wholly new language alongside contemporary avant-garde and free jazz. Figures like Toshinori Kondo and David Toop, willing as they were to incorporate snippets of all kinds of music, were the pesky ‘second generation’, happily cocking a snook at the ‘ideological purity’ of Bailey’s non-idiomatic improvisation.
‘Company 1981’ shows up the foolishness — the wrongness — of such storylines. Check the eclectic collection of guests Bailey invited to Company Weeks over the years. He had clear ideas about the music, but he was no ideological purist.

One of the founders of Fluxus, Charlie Morrow injects blasts of Cageian fun into half the recordings here, whether blurting military fanfares from his trumpet, or intoning far-flung scraps of speech. Cellist Tristan Honsinger and vocalist Christine Jeffrey join in the joyful glossolalia, while Bailey, Toop and Kondo contribute delicious, delicate, hooligan arabesques, by turns.
The remainder are performed by a different ensemble: Bailey, bassist Maarten Altena, former Henry Cow members Georgie Born and Lindsay Cooper on cello and bassoon, the insanely inventive Jamie Muir on percussion, and trombonist Radu Malfatti, showing his mastery of extended technique. Were that not enough, there’s the inimitable purity of Steve Lacy’s soprano ringing high and clear above the melee. Glorious!

There’s always been this idea that Free Improvisation is somehow Difficult Listening, but when the doors of perception are thrown open and prejudice cast aside, you realise that it’s not difficult at all. “Is it that easy?” chirps Morrow, at one point. Indeed it is.
Enjoy yourself.

Linus Hillborg’s solo debut Magelungsverket lures listeners through despaired soundscapes of justly tuned electroacoustic orchestral arrangements seeped in rich harmonic synthesis.

Magelungsverket is a rendering of materials from Hillborg’s own computer game hacking project, Orphan Works, where an obsolete game engine was modified to create an interactive installation in which participants drive through the purple midnight streets of a decrepit and abandoned Stockholm. The game's generative soundtrack interacts with the player’s haphazard navigation of a ceaseless digital void of factories, housing projects, run down bars, ditches and lakes. Displaced, uncanny narratives and depictions of both real and semi-fictional locations in Stockholm that could have existed - but do not - procures distinct sequences of sound constructed with the Buchla 200 system, programmed synthesis, bowed cymbals, metal clarinet and tape machines.

The rendered pieces on Magelungsverket have been adapted from Orphan Works’ interactive and generative material into separate, fixed compositions, bound by duration, each one named after a location in this fictional, virtual Stockholm. For instance, Vårbergsobservatoriet (The Vårberg Observatory), draws its name from an artificial mountain that exists in the outskirts of Stockholm, amidst the sprawl of residential areas far beyond the sparkling city center. It was built from garbage scraps left behind after the underground metro system was constructed in the 1970s. In this fictional version, a public observatory was wishfully imagined to have been built on top of it. However fictitious Hillborg has imagined these locations, it is a bittersweet reflection and fragmented mental image of a Stockholm that never existed. Magelungsverket will be released on the 4th of December in a limited run of 200 black vinyls and across digital platforms.

Linus Hillborg (b. 1989, Stockholm) is a composer, musician and sound artist based in Stockholm, operating in numerous fields, ranging from experimental musics and audio-visual installations to post-punk and noise formations.

Patrick Conway is made of snips and snails and puppy tails. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, Hypersocial removes our minds from the daily online cesspool and pulls up emotions we haven’t felt for almost a year. We lost a Summer of dancing together en masse in clubs, fields, warehouses and pubs, but with this beautiful reminder of what true social synergy and collective ecstasy can physically feel like, the Bristolian by way of Berlin hits the nail right on the head (with a little help from his friends Quantum Thomas & Hoyahelper). Lush strings? Tick. Balmy chord progression? Tick. Ethereal vocal chops? Walloping bassline? Infectious rhythm? Goosebumps? Tears of joy? Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick! On the flip-side, Safety Test is surely the tougher counterpart, the warm fuzzies are traded for a ten ton bag of grit. Here, Patrick foreshadows a sonic approach we’ll hear lot more of with his debut album early next year; a combination of abrasive rhythms, processed scraps, a grab bag of stabbing bleeps and bloops, distant car alarms, ballistic fax machines, and an arsenal of low frequencies so brutal your woofers will require jumper cables. So, a heroic slab for both a block party in your brain and sunset in your soul, these two songs will bring back the Summer you just lost.

"Imagine the opposite of a snake shedding its skin: a body slithering among the debris of 21st-century music; a porous, viscid body, its skin an adhesive, lodging onto itself bits and pieces along the way. Some are scraps, rusted, discarded parts. Some are the jewels of crowns, unglued and fallen from grace, now re-attached on this makeshift contraption. Where does a body end? Does it end where these prostheses begin?

Jay Glass Dubs’ Soma (“body” in Greek) is a palimpsest. Look closely and you can find all sorts of DNA microarrays on the body’s skin – Bristol voices, Detroit electro hums, the amen break, the all-encompassing dub haze – but, as with all palimpsests, they are simultaneously one and a multitude. The body lives, its prostheses live.

The body moves."

When the world slipped into madness last month, the ESP Institute put most releases on the back-burner to await brighter days, but then we thought again; why not approach these odd circumstances the way we do most realities, positively and head-on? We’re committed to a community that builds new worlds — this is fundamental to our creative and spiritual relationship with Osaka-born, cosmos-straggling artist, Ground — and while temporarily we can’t physically congregate to uplift each other, its our responsibility as an institution to maintain a platform for prolific creative pioneers, our cherished cartographers of cognitive escape. 'Wakusei' is wonderfully confusing and disorienting music, a follow-up EP to 2018’s critically acclaimed album 'Sunizm', not created specifically for life under lockdown, but nonetheless aptly suited to help release angst, guide meditation, and assist in making this moment in history more interesting if not transcendental. Whereas 'Sunizm' relied on field recordings gathered from rainforests, percussions learned from imaginary ancient civilizations, and the somehow organic freneticism of a mission control meltdown, the aesthetic of 'Wakusei' reduces this abstract instrumentation one step further to a more base-level array of gurgling synth scraps, accelerating engine friction and static-bound phonetic mistakes, all scrubbed into dust by a Brillo pad of white noise. The cliché of “great art is born out of hard times” is not lost upon us — of course the world will look back to this turmoil and its residual contributions to culture — but we see today's art as an immediate coping mechanism, and artists like Ground helping to unlock and navigate internal utopias. We’re already indoors, let’s delve inside.

They Say: “A selection of suspense underscores and drama blackcloths which vary in intensity and cover a wide range of suspense and drama situations”.

We say: A breaky, funky library great masquerading as a horror score. Oh, and the cover art is amazing.

Breath Of Danger was originally released in 1974, and rounded up a killer ensemble cast of library legends including Alan Hawkshaw, Brian Bennett, Alan Parker, David Lindup, Kenny Salmon, Barry Morgan and Ray Cooper.

Lindup’s opener “Cold Sweat” sounds like hip-hop-friendly mode Axelrod and, indeed, was brilliantly sampled by Kool Keith for his Dr. Dooom project. Alan Hawkshaw and Brian Bennett’s “The Manipulator” sounds like it arrived straight out of the same sessions as their legendary Synthesizer & Percussion LP from the same year.

Over on the B-side Alan Parker’s “Psychosis” is a moving and beautifully restrained funk-guitar/cello/harp workout. Stunning. Kenny Salmon’s “Flying Squad” is a sleazy, flute-enhanced gem and the album closes with “Voodoo”, a seventy second riot of sound and colour from the dynamic drumming-percussion duo of Barry Morgan and Ray Cooper.

Sonically, there’s a widescreen vitality in all these tracks thanks to the driving rhythms, vibrant horn sections and blazing guitar work. It renders Breath Of Danger - 45 years old - truly ageless. The Themes series is known for having particularly striking sleeves, which was unusual for library records at the time, and Breath Of Danger’s scraps of comic-book crazy make for one of the most eye-catching.

As with all of our other Themes re-issues, the audio for Breath Of Danger comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. We’ve taken the same care with the sleeves, handing the reproduction duties over to Richard Robinson, the current custodian of KPM’s brand identity.

Instant is the trio of Bernd Schöll (Bass, Vocals, Rhythm), Mike Hauer (Guitar, Synth, Percussion), and Marion Siekmann (Vocals) from Munich, Germany. They formed in 1980 after meeting through mutual friends attending the local art and graphic design school. The trio were dissatisfied with their surrounding musical environment. Inspired by the Velvet Underground, Kraftwerk, and Giorgio Moroder, they set out to create their own brand of Neue Deutsche Welle fusing Dada, disco, and Krautrock.

Over the course of 2 weeks in Summer 1980 the band teamed up with local producer Mario Strack to record 6 songs. These would make up their debut eponymous album that was originally self-released on 10' vinyl in 1981. They utilized a simple set up of guitar, bass, and keyboards, plus the BOSS DR-55 Dr. Rhythm drum machine. Metal scraps clanging appear on the tracks 'Do Not' and 'Optimate Minimum', and a washing machine was sampled on the track 'Joyboy', which features Marion reading from the appliance's instruction manual. The A-side features 4 tracks in 11 minute, while the B-side hosts 2 songs in the same stretch of time. 'Charade' features no wave saxophone accompaniment from Kai Taschner of Munich New Wave band Luna Set. Marion's vocals are between Nico's Teutonic chill and Alison Statton's (Young Marble Giants) playfulness, while Bernd takes a monotone approach. Lyrics for 'My Boy' and 'Everybody's Gotta Mutate' were adapted from 'Rotwang', a fragmented novel written by Tim Hildebrandt, one of the brothers famous for illustrating the works of Tolkien.

All songs have been remastered for vinyl by George Horn at Fantasy Studios in Berkeley. The vinyl comes housed in a replica of the original jacket design, which features a neon red screen-printed drawing of a cut-out doll family on a stark white background. Each LP includes a postcard insert with lyrics.

One of drum & bass' best kept secrets Brother returns to Fokuz Recordings with his sophomore album the 'Cold Shoulder LP'. The album showcases Brothers admiration for jazz, funk, soul but also scraps of reggae and dub music are occasionally to be found. It's groovy, delightful and has a retro feel to it, a true indication of where the artist and label are at the moment.

With the double CD containing 13 luscious drum & bass cuts as well as 14 downtempo tracks, ranging from deep house to nu-jazz, Brother has really outdone himself this time

If the "Parquet" album saw them delivering a unified vision of dancefloor purity to massive acclaim, "Cashmere" now takes ELEKTRO GUZZI's signature man-machine sound up a notch. It is moving their rock-solid base towards ecstatic moments of techno bliss. In the title track layers of circling angular chords cause goose bumps, while a warmly pulsating foundation of bass and drums locks in
the groove. The "Reverse Mix" does exactly what it says: reversing the arrangement and re-building the track back to front. In "Crack Fox" it is then the interaction of shifted bass line and countering melodic scraps that pushes the whole thing forward. All set off against ultra-steady drumworks, only swelling in lengthy waves towards eerie peaks, the result is sheer madness. Essential material from
the band that reinvented "live techno."