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Vice Squad are 100% DIY and record everything in their home studio with guitarist/riffmaster Paul Rooney engineering and mixing. There is nothing sloppy here; the whole album is concise and intelligent with lightning-speed diction, passion, and intent. The glorious ‘If I Knew What I Know Now’ and ‘The World Is Wrong’ are examples of Vice Squad’s ability to write instantly catchy, witty songs, and the more gut-wrenching material from their last album, ‘Battle of Britain’, showcases some enormous riffs and a voice that is a million decibels from Beki's untried teen vocals. The album opens with the deliciously effervescent ‘If I Knew What I Know Now’, followed by the sparkling old-school tongue-twister ‘Out of Reach’. Next up is the visceral ‘Get A Life’, an angry anti-suicide note to the desperate, originally the title track from their 1998 comeback album. This is followed by a shimmering version of Vice Squad's old-school classic ‘Resurrection’. While the treatment of the old songs remains true to the original teenage renditions, the upgraded versions pack more of a punch with detuned guitars and growling bass. The tribal tom-toms of ‘Allergy’ underpin just over two minutes of punk protest about the delights of pollution and asthma. Then comes the sublime ‘Sniffing Glue’, a near-perfect punk love song that would be a huge hit if not for its subject matter. ‘Ordinary Girl’ is punk-pop perfection brimming with hook lines and harmonies, warmly mocking the life that could have been chosen instead of the grindstone at the sharp end of the music industry. ‘The World Is Wrong’ is anthemic, joyous, and wonderfully contrary, and one would expect nothing less from a band that has soldiered on and grown through the decades. It’s always great when bands lead by example. In these increasingly tough times where our survival is threatened by the gargantuan greed of a few individuals, it's important to continuously stick two fingers up to the grabbers and spoilers. 'The World Is Wrong' does just that in an impassioned, melodic, and optimistic style. 'Hold your head up, stand your ground, and don't let the bastards grind you down.' Then we roar into the final single Beki wrote with original and now sadly deceased guitarist Dave Bateman, ‘Citizen’, and continue with another teenage opus, the quite brutal ‘Scarred For Life’. ‘Voice of the People’ is a bulldozer of a song, all swagger and ballsy riffs, and the chorus, ‘Freedom of speech is against the law; now we’re all criminals,’ snarls its derision at red-handed red tape. ‘Punk Police’ sneers over a catchy-as-COVID guitar riff, and the lyrics, ‘Regulation cut, you must measure up, down on the street, PR companies, monied families, running the scene,’ call out the hierarchies that now permeate Punk. Baritone guitars add extra darkness to one of the first-ever animal rights songs, ‘Humane’, and I’m struck by how relevant the older songs are. Chocks away, and the awesome ’Spitfire’ takes flight like Motörhead on extra amphetamines. Merlin engines fade into ‘Born In A War’, the second in the triumvirate of conflict-themed songs, an absolute stonker with huge muscular riffs and lyrics that roar pure outrage. Then comes the ominous Last Rockers, with all the angst of the original plus added depth and resonance. Beki: ' "Last Rockers" is a typically depressive adolescent song about nuclear war and being too young to die but too late to live. I believed Punks were the ‘Last Rockers’, the final youth cult before the Apocalypse. I was obsessed with punk, and all I wanted to do was sing in a band and be part of the movement, so I would often romanticise the idea of punk in my lyrics.' The four bonus CD tracks kick off with ‘Coward’, another teen Bateman/Bond composition. ‘No You Don’t’ is just over two minutes of vocal acrobatics over a Dexedrine-driven Devo-esque chord sequence, and the frantically brilliant ‘I Dare To Breathe’ from ‘Battle of Britain’ continues the aural assault. Then the final sombre entreaty of ‘You Can’t Buy Back The Dead’ warns us that ‘Enough’s never enough; absolute power will corrupt; the war machine still rumbles on’ before fading into the future.

For her second full-length as Plume Girl, Sowmya Somanath crafts a space where boundaries of language, feeling, and sound start to dissolve. ‘Unnameable Glory’ ruminates on the limits of expression, and the luminous freedom that emerges when we let go of the need to name. Elaborating on the exploratory songs of her debut, Plume Girl continues to bring together Hindustani classical improvisation, ambient soundscapes, and experimental pop.

Somanath’s voice—from gentle murmur to radiant call—guides the listener through dreamlike arrangements: sunrise guitar arpeggios, humming choirs, heartbeat kickdrums, and synths tremble. Elsewhere field sounds and old family recordings are collaged, a woman’s giggle transposed into a piano melody, a sloshing body of water mirrored by synth bleeps. Plume Girl conjures moments of revelation, drawing from the natural beauty and intuition, that unnameable glory.

Is there a divinity or a wholeness that exists beyond language, belief, or tradition? Unnameable Glory both celebrates and gently challenges the notion: Can we honour the creative richness of culture while also seeing through the divisions it creates? Can we meet the world—and each other—without assumption, without fear, with eyes made new? In these songs, the sacred is found not in grand gestures, but in the anonymous freedom of simply being: the iridescence of oil and water on a street, the smile of a stranger, the hush that settles by a creek.

At the heart of the album is a sense of curiosity and surrender—a willingness to listen without judgment, to let the moment be unnameable, to allow wonder to arise and dissolve. And yet, as Somanath notes, there’s an impulse to capture that’s tough to ignore; a need to replicate and remember. Unnameable Glory dwells in this tension: between holding and letting go, between the urge to define and the beauty of what cannot be contained. There is a quiet, revolutionary joy in simply living and sensing together. Music becomes a meeting place for the whole, the holy, and the unnamable.

This is an album made during a crucial period in South Africa’s history during which there was a palpable feeling of a slow turning towards the collapse of the apartheid state side by side with an increasingly well-organised culture of resistance through the formation of the United Democratic Front (UDF) and various affiliated bodies. However, as a result, there was increased pushback from the state security establishment, a turning to dirty tricks and the formation of hit squads whose members murdered and tortured many of our friends and created chaos throughout South Africa as well as neighbouring countries.

This album is situated in this political environment however it took advantage of the new do-it-yourself music technologies available at that time. Technologies that made it possible to make and release records without interference from traditional record company executives. Two musician friends of mine pooled their resources after their respective bands had broken up. Ivan Kadey (National Wake) and Lloyd Ross (Radio Rats) built an 8-track recording studio control room and fitted it out in a second hand caravan and called it Shifty. They parked it in a garage attached to the only house left in a demolished and derelict mining village near Soweto on the outskirts of Johannesburg.
All the work on this album was completed there, mainly after hours and mostly alone where I enjoyed an exhilarating freedom to develop a whole new set of musical skills and ideas, incorporating my love of a wide range of music I’d grown up with. Influences of 1970s progressive/kraut/and psychedelic rock combined with mbaqanga bass styles, early reggae/dub and Indian tabla rhythms. Stockhausen, early Zappa and Holgar Czukay were radio text and shredding influences, and Chris Cutler’s band Henry Cow & Art Bears helped me see a way to political expression. Mostly though was the exciting post-punk and no-wave music coming through to us from Europe and America: bands like This Heat, the Mekons, Raincoats, Sonic Youth and Pere Ubu were immensely important to me as was my reading from the period: J.M.Coetzee’s first 3 novels are strong influences on Free State Fence; the stark landscape, superstition, ritual, and sexual repression are in many of his settings. JG Ballard was a constant presence throughout that period, especially whilst living in such a surreal environment, surrounded by mine dumps, but mostly I think the whole French post-modern philosophical movement—Derrida, Foucault and of course, Baudrillard’s Simulacra and Simulation—set out a new sense of possibilities, possible ways to express oneself, ways to think, and ways to try and analyse the political intersection of public and private life. Most important at that time was the influence of sound recordings I had made and experiences garnered from working as a sound recordist on documentary films. These financed my work and later the studio and were consistent employment throughout the 1980s. Film work also enabled me to experience much of South Africa that was hidden from most. The track Independence Day is a good example; drawn from some time spent in the rural homeland of Venda. This then was the first full length Kalahari Surfers album, completed in summer of 1984 it was taken to EMI pressing plant but rejected by the cutting engineer as being ""political, pornographic and anti religious"". Chris Cutler at Recommended Records took up the challenge and released the album through his label. He wrote the original liner note

Over the past near-decade, Lancashire's medieval metal phenomenon WYTCH HAZEL have been honing an uncommonly wholesome, rustic and devotional brand of timewarped hard rock that's all their own, with 2016's Prelude and 2018's II: Sojourn summoning to mind fevered images of Robin Hood and his Merry Men grooving to Jethro Tull and Thin Lizzy. Yet within moments of pressing play on their third LP, III: Pentecost, the musty mystical minstrelsy takes a back seat in favour of a rich, sumptuous, anthemic late-night drivetime vibe, passionately embracing the most high-end smash-hit classic rock and metal circa its late 1970s heyday. "I thought I put a lot into the second album, but this album has been an absolute obsession," stresses the band leader, Colin Hendra. "Every aspect had to be as good as possible. We've gone back and forth, Ed was tinkering with it for months on end. There's quadruple tracking going on with the rhythm parts, then we've doubled, tripled and quadrupled all our lead parts to get that richness and fullness of sound, all meticulously planned with pages and pages of organisational notes. It wasn't just `get in the studio and see how it goes!'" he laughs. "One day I did 14 hours of vocal recording. All vocals are double-tracked, I can't express how much hard work that is. The last album feels like a breeze compared to what we've done with this - and I don't plan on ramping it down!" Musically there are gorgeous self-professed touches of Black Sabbath, Blue Öyster Cult, AC/DC and early Scorpions_"With the soloing I was trying to go for Michael Schenker" beams Colin_while the scampering headbanger I Will Not initially took a nod from Angel Witch, who Hendra was helping out on second guitar back in 2015 when the track was composed, before studio treatment made it sound "a lot more Wytch Hazelly". But perhaps the most lateral comparison is to a band from the opposite spiritual realm, with Archangel an explicit homage to Swedish faux-Satanic devil cult Ghost. "I find them fascinating, Ghost; musically great, the songwriting is spot-on," enthuses the frontman. "We share an intrinsic connection, with Bad Omen honcho Will Palmer being the person who discovered us both. "Music is created for all, it's a common grace for everyone," he affirms, "which is why the music that shows the glory of God the most, in my opinion, is not music created by Christians. It's Black Sabbath!"

"Wind, Again" is Sary Moussa’s fourth studio album and second album on Other People. Based between France and Lebanon, Moussa returns with a riveting electro-acoustic album informed by his ever-changing relationships to space, listening, and resonance as well as his growing interest in the study of harmonics in electronic and electro-acoustic music.

Years in the making, “Wind, Again” approaches distinct musical worlds and languages by bringing together improvisations by musicians performing on Western and West Asian instruments such as the Hammond organ, clarinet, saz, and buzuk with electronic arrangements and textures. Rather than force a rapprochement of these musical worlds through the instruments, and keenly aware of the weighty sonic histories they carry, Moussa proposes another way through which they can exist together in contemporary electronic composition.

Composed of six tracks, each of which demonstrate an array of recording and processing techniques, the album generates moments of tension produced by the synthesis of textural, tonal, and harmonic encounters that Moussa calls “shadows”, which outline an impressionistic musical language, existing at the edge of familiarity. Such moments permeate tracks like “Everywhere at once” and “Violence” that open with the Hammond organ and the saz respectively and slowly reveal an expansive field of sounds that showcases each of the musicians’ characteristic performances and Moussa’s densely layered textures. It is a latent yet unrelenting tension through which the composer invokes rather than represents a collective experiential state, especially familiar to those who know his environment. In “Wind, Again” these shadows are articulations of sounds steeped in traditions they are never quite tethered to. Such articulations are implied and alluded to, they play within a musical reference without the latter explicitly existing in the recording, always teetering, never completely here nor there.
Sonically and musically, the album is fueled by the cultural, social, and personal realities that Moussa was brought up and lives in.

Both personal and musical ties with the musicians who feature on the album is central to Moussa’s practice. In the title track “I will never write a song about you”, musician Julia Sabra opens with rolled piano chords, followed by Paed Conca on clarinet and Abed Kobeissy on buzuk, before Moussa’s electronic processing pieces together, lifts, and sustains the melodic direction of the track that emerged from the musicians’ separate improvisations. For Moussa: “The initial connection between the three performances was made on a track that no longer existed, the original recording was both an obstacle and necessary step for the track we hear on the record. It’s as if we were all telling different stories and I pulled on the thread that held them together”. The track, and more generally the record, is tinged with a melancholy of things lost, though it never fully succumbs to it.
“Everything inside a circle”, Moussa’s most personal track and for which he provides the only vocals on the record, harkens back to a childhood memory of listening to music with his mother in a car: “There was a sound I was looking for — a memory of a sound and how I first heard it. This track is a hybrid of that memory and what I wanted to make of it”. The track relies heavily on generativesystems and perhaps embodies most the ambiguous quality of the record’s music in its refusal to be pinned down by one musical tradition or another.
“Wind, Again” is both familiar and alien, cold and warm; it pays homage to the mechanics, materials, and tactility of the instruments and converges acoustic and synthetic spaces. What anchors the sound of the album are the elements of a whole that cannot find its own idiosyncrasy and that is precisely why Moussa’s album is a tour de force.

When you’re running a label, a demo occasionally comes across your desk that makes you reconsider everything you thought your label was all about. For Balmat, such was the case with this stunning album from Stephen Vitiello, Brendan Canty, and Hahn Rowe. It sounds like nothing we’ve released so far—and that very otherness opened up a whole new world of possibilities for us.

Fans of ambient, experimental electronic music, and sound art will be familiar with Vitiello, a New York native, long based in Virginia, who has collaborated with a cross-generational list of greats: Taylor Deupree, Steve Roden, Lawrence English, Tetsu Inoue, Nam June Paik, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Pauline Oliveros, and many more. On labels like 12k, Room40, and Sub Rosa, he has explored a wide range of minimalism, microsound, lowercase, ambient, improv, and other styles. But this album is something different. It may begin in ambient-adjacent territory, but it quickly veers off, and it just keeps zigzagging, taking on elements of krautrock, post-punk, dub, and the groove-heavy interplay of groups like Natural Information Society and 75 Dollar Bill.

This stylistic turn is thanks in large part to Vitiello’s choice of collaborators. “We’re coming from three different schools,” Vitiello says: “sound art, art rock, and punk rock.”

Active since the early 1980s, Rowe—a violinist, guitarist, and producer/engineer—has played with, or manned the boards for, a frankly jaw-dropping list of musicians: Herbie Hancock, Gil Scott-Heron, the Last Poets, Roy Ayers, John Zorn, Glenn Branca, Swans, Live Skull, Brian Eno, David Byrne, Anohni, R.E.M., Yoko Ono, and many more. But he might be most closely associated with Hugo Largo, a one-of-a-kind New York quartet—two basses, vocals, and Rowe’s violin—that in the late 1980s helped lay the groundwork for what would eventually become known as post-rock.

Canty, of course, is the legendary drummer of Fugazi, the visionary DC post-hardcore group, as well as Rites of Spring before them, and, currently, the Messthetics, a Dischord-signed instrumental trio with guitarist Anthony Pirog and Fugazi bassist Joe Lally.

Vitiello’s trio first collaborated on First, a 17-minute piece released on the Longform Editions label in 2023. Second picks up where the freeform drift of First left off, channeling the trio’s exploratory energies into more intentionally structured tracks and—in a real first for Balmat—some almost shockingly muscular grooves. “Sometimes my projects are more conceptually driven,” Vitiello says, “but I think this was more musically geared. I just wanted to open up the references and bring in an incredible drummer, bring in some melodies, and I’m sort of the center.” But his collaborators, he stresses, are “vastly creative in making anything I might suggest better.”

Like its predecessor, Second took shape in phases, shifting between improvisation and collage. Vitiello laid down the skeleton of the music at home, sketching out initial ideas on Rhodes keyboard and acoustic and electric guitar; he then fed the parts through samplers and his modular system, recording 10- or 20-minute jams. Once he had edited them into more structured forms, he hit the studio with Canty, who added not just drums but also bass and piano; finally, Vitiello took the results of those sessions to Rowe, who played violin, viola, electric bass, and 12-string acoustic and bowed electric guitar, and assisted in some of the final structuring and mixdown.

A few more surprises along the way: Reanimator’s Don Godwin, the studio engineer where Vitiello recorded with Canty, contributed what he calls “resonant dustpan”; and none other than Animal Collective’s Geologist, who just happened to be in the studio that day, sits in on hurdy gurdy on “Mrphgtrs1,” the album’s gorgeous, stunningly atmospheric drone closer. “I love these chance encounters,” Vitiello says. “Somebody I admire, a group I admire—that was an unexpected gift.”

An unexpected gift is a great way of describing Second as a whole: three veteran musicians venturing outside their usual zones and finding a new collaborative language together. The results can’t be neatly slotted into any given genre; they belong not to any given category, but to the spirit of conversation itself.

Crash! Boom! Bang! 30-year anniversary celebrated with a unique special edition: a double album in black and white vinyl with 18 tracks and an 8-page booklet.

30 years ago, Roxette released their fifth album "Crash! Boom! Bang!", including a stream of hit singles like "Sleeping In My Car", the title track, "Fireworks", "Run To You" and "Vulnerable". The album would sell more than five million copies and was followed by their second World Tour, which saw them perform for over a million people, including the second performance ever by an international act in China.

“Roxette were among the three most played artists on American radio during 1989, 1990 and 1991, and we were on top of the charts all over the world. So, it's no wonder we felt pretty confident when it was time to record the new album”, Per Gessle says. “Having had that kind of success made us feel that we had a perfect opportunity to stretch out into new directions. To show slightly different sides of what Roxette could be. And I still think "Crash! Boom! Bang" is our best album”. Crash! Boom! Bang! saw chart success upon release, No. 1 in Sweden, No. 2 in Germany and No. 3 in Australia and the UK.

Roxette – Marie Fredriksson and Per Gessle – came out of Sweden in the late 80’s. Their game was pop, their mission to conquer the world. With 33 chart-busting singles and total record sales exceeding 75 million, it seems safe to say “mission accomplished”.

Second solo album by Arthur Satan, released on Born Bad, after 'So Far So Good', his pop solo debut, which was a pleasant surprise for fans of his notthat-garage group JC Satan 'A Journey That Never Was' is so big you'll need special furniture to accommodate this unreasonable, maximalist parade, crammed full with 1960s pop influences.

The record plays with heritage like a kid would unabashedly plan for a birthday party. No stupid treasure hunt, we're bowling with the heads of our foes, guitars are literally bleeding through the mix. T-Rex burgers, fountains of chocolate choruses dripping on Brian Wilson - shaped giant cookies: let's indulge. Each song is a musical family, each verse is an album, each riff is a title. In his Christmas gift list, Arthur probably circled absolutely every toy: his taste for completism never disappoints. He played almost every instrument, mixed the album and designed a whole graphic universe to go along with it. A visual artist by trade, also made a point of drawing a monumental fresco spreading out the fantasy landscape that haunts this album.

2025 Repress

Om Unit surprises us with a second volume of his 'Acid Dub Studies' project, once again fusing his love for the 303 with studio techniques given to us by musical heroes such as King Tubby, Adrian Sherwood, Jammys and Basic Channel

This second volume further solidifies the convincing narrative created by its best-selling predecessor, heading in a more groove-based direction in places whilst being underpinned by the same sonic narrative that has been enjoyed by many music fans from a variety of different spheres for the past 18 months or so

Support so far for the Acid Dub Studies project has come from many corners including some of the most highly respected names in UK Radio such as Don Letts and Steve Barker, Benji B and Tom Ravenscroft as well as a whole host of truly global worldwide underground support both via radio and in the dance

Om Unit says of this record: 'I felt encouraged by the sheer love for the original selection of works to go back in again and continue to experiment with this approach to writing whilst refining some of the process. Being able to combine processes and influence has been the mainstay of my creative life and I hope this next volume of Acid Dub will be enjoyed by everyone who was a fan of the first'

The beloved 303 bassline continues to inspire every new generation and Acid Dub Studies II is another storybook of sound in that vast continuum that shows no sign of slowing down.

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production. Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees. McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased. Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself.

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production.
Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees.
McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased.
Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself. John McKay will be made available for a limited number of interviews . . . and yes, there are surprises in store.

All Portrait, No Chorus is the new album from indie rap pioneer doseone and NYC producer Steel Tipped Dove. Together, these two artists have crafted an uncompromising masterpiece. Knowing the caliber of MC he is paired with, dove skillfully paints with every color on the palette, and doseone skates effortlessly on every track, whether skating languid figure 8s or landing lyrical triple axels. Somehow the veteran sounds sharper than ever and the songs are lean and hungry, cut to the quick. It is no accident that this project is released under the Backwoodz Studioz imprint; the road that leads to this collaboration starts with, of all things, a ShrapKnel demo. Here is how dose explains it: "I have been inspired by Backwoodz for a while, in many ways, but the most potent being all these distinct pens. September 2023, I had heard a nearly done version of ShrapKnel's latest record, and something snapped in me. Hearing that perfectly hungry, inspired rapping turned my power back on. For me, being inspired warrants telling those who are inspiring you, so once I heard Decay I reached out and sent Fatboi Sharif and Dove some kind words about that record. The rest is history." At the end of December 2023 Dove sent dose the first beat pack. Somewhere around the second week of January 2024 dose already had five songs written and recorded. By the middle of March, a rough album framework was essentially done, and they brought on Minneapolis producer Andrew Broder to freak the turntables across the whole project. Then, as a final piece, dose and dove added select collaborations from some of their favorite rappers. By the end of April it was done. "I'm not really a features guy, but to align with and connect with those who inspire me, I called in some beautiful humans I had never worked with but always meant to: Open Mike Eagle, M.Sayyid, billy woods, Fatboi Sharif, and Myka 9 connect eras, artists, and styles of unconventional rap I hold incredibly dear," doseone explains. Listening to All Portrait, No Chorus you can hear the battery in doseone's back as he pythons his way through each instrumental. For his part, Steel Tipped Dove_a prolific producer over the last two years_delivers some of the most diverse work of his career. The result is a dynamic, propulsive listen that casts its crackling energy in every direction except backwards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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."

'Through Today' is the sophomore album for rising Australian band Chimers. A husband / wife duo comprising life partners Padraic Skehan (vocals / guitar) and Binx (drums / vocals). Recorded by Jono Boulet (Party Dozen) over two days at Stranded Studios, Wollongong and mixed at Boulet’s Sydney home studio, produced by the band and veteran manager / promoter / producer Tim Pittman (Feel Presents), 'Through Today' features ten tracks of tightly-coiled intensity that barely lets up for all of its 34 mins. In enlisting Boulet, the band were confident that due to his own experience of being one half of Party Dozen, they had someone who understood the confines of working within the structure of a two-piece but also the possibilities that creates. Boulet, in turn, rewarding that trust by capturing a powerful bedrock of sound that allowed the band's taught rhythms to circle and permeate and yet give full breathing space for the melody within. For Pittman’s part, having a third ear on hand to devote serious listening time and critical commentary was an added bonus. It’s a major step forward from the band’s 2021 self-titled debut. A twelve track effort that snuck out during covid and only hinted at the power within. "Our debut felt more like just trying to capture the songs we had at the time, we weren’t sure if we’d even release it or if it would be our only album" "This time around we were intent on capturing the energy and intensity of our live show on the recording but with a more produced sound than self-titled. We worked more on song structure previous to the sessions. We rehearsed a lot playing quietly so we could actually talk to each other whilst playing the song and iron out any kinks.” “Jono turned the whole live room into a drum room, mics everywhere. The guitar amps were situated outside to prevent too much spill but still recorded live along with about half of the vocals. Second guitar and the rest of the vocals were recorded the next day. Jono was super quick and had the same work ethic and mindset, get in, get it done. If the first take was good enough, move on.” - Padraic Lyrically Chimers maintain the intensity as they tackle the themes of love, life, death and relationships, distance from home (Padraic is Irish, moving to Australia in 2001) and the current political climate providing enough drama to fuel a forest fire. Guest musicians on the album include saxophonist Kirsty Tickle - also of Party Dozen - and violinist Jordan Ireland of The Middle East. Both of whom were invited in on short notice adding their respective parts in just 1-2 takes each without any prior knowledge of the material. Binx too showing added versatility contributing lead vocals to An Echo and sharing lead across 3AM, Generator and others. “Singing is not something that comes naturally to me, and it was at the last minute before we went into the studio that Padraic suggested I sing the lead in An Echo. Having very minimal musical instruments within the band I think having the two different vocals adds a nice dynamic to the record.” - Binx 'Through Today' is a great album. Solid and confident from the get go. No waste. No unnecessary fat. Should it be Chimers last it would remain a defining statement of originality and intent. But it’s not the last, it’s just the beginning. And there’s plenty more where that came from. BIO Like many good bands Chimers are a band born of isolation, not geographically though, via the pandemic. Irish born Padraic Skehan and his life partner Binx, formed the band in their Wollongong backyard during the initial lockdown of 2020. Veterans and drummers both of the ‘Gong’s vibrant garage-scene – The Pink Fits, The Drop Offs, Evol and more – Chimers is an altogether different beast, Padraic taking a giant leap forward by removing himself from the back-seat and assuming the role of driver; singing, playing guitar and writing the songs that would eventually become their 2021 self-titled debut album. It’s a sound and album that draws heavily on Skehan’s time as a youth in Ireland and the post-hardcore sounds of Dischord Records, Husker Du, The Wipers and which has seen the band find friends and favour in like-minds The Mark Of Cain, Henry Rollins, Guy Picciotto and Mudhoney. This is no mere nostalgia though, the band instead landing at the vanguard of a new generation of Sydney and surrounds bands – Body Type, Second Idol, Dust, Private Wives, R.M.F.C – borrowing from the past in order to create a future.

As a founding member of Dublin experimental folk group Lankum, Ian Lynch explores submerged leylines of music and song. Forging a musical path that is all at once dark, mysterious and foreboding, but ultimately transcendental. His new solo project One Leg One Eye sees him taking a fresh approach to musical arrangement culminating in a sound that is more rooted in the raw aesthetics of second wave black metal than contemporary folk. The project was born across 2021, a period in which Lynch was able to enjoy the freedom of experimenting and exploring different paths of sound design without expectation or pressure. Seeking out interesting settings to record music and gather field recordings, there are several environments, external and interior, whose respective essence have seeped into the spirit of the music and come to represent Lynch’s artistic approach and development with this singular debut album, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Rediscovered spaces in Dublin and the familiar enclave of his bedroom are intrinsic to the distinct and sometimes harrowing atmosphere conjured throughout the album’s five enveloping compositions. One particular location, an abandoned factory where his father worked when Ian was a child, provided a space of great inspiration and intrigue during this time. Lynch frequently visited the large abandoned warehouse and sang with his shruti box, contented in his solitude. ‘I’d Rather Be Tending My Sheep’, grew into existence from those initial sessions, eventually finding a home as an emotive centrepiece to the album. Reflecting on the overall recording of …And Take The Black Worm With Me, Lynch says, “Everything I was doing with these songs was all kind of new to me; experimenting with different sounds, textures and palettes and seeing what I could come up with by piecing it all together. I spent about a year making the album. I loved the whole process because it was basically just me in my bedroom recording everything. The experience of recording like this and having my own time to do it was amazing. I could focus on recording a specific element and happily spend all day working on that one part, doing it as many times as I wanted. At the end of the day if it didn’t feel right, I could just try it again the next day. When you’re on your own you can spend as much time as you want on particular parts until you feel that it’s absolutely perfect. I found that to be a really liberating experience. It was probably my favourite experience recording music.” The collection of songs (and their chronology) featured on …And Take The Black Worm With Me tell a story unique to Lynch’s experiences with anxiety and recognising his shadow self. Whilst the album became an outlet of personal expression for Lynch, the overarching themes and subsequent journey to confront one’s internal dichotomy of light and dark before accepting this inherent duality is universally shared. The eerie and often unsettling world contained within the album’s texturally dense opener ‘Glistening, She Emerges’, driven by the captivating drone of distorted uilleann pipes, immediately immerses the listener in this transportive work. It descends with a great heaviness, yet woven throughout the arrangement is a fascinating and indescribable entity that draws you further into this otherworldly dimension. This mood continues as the tracklist progresses and transitions into Lynch’s haunting realisation of ‘Bold and Undaunted Youth’ which further demonstrates a cinematic influence to Lynch’s compositional style. Sonically, Lynch effectively builds an impressively vast terrain with brilliantly murky lo-fi recording techniques and an unshakable curiosity to move beyond conventional structures and play with the timbre of the instruments available to him. From recording hurdy-gurdy or concertina to tape and experimenting with loops and effects pedals to stitching field recordings together, there’s an intimacy established between Lynch and his audience established through the simultaneously eerie and beautiful tones courting through …And Take The Black Worm With Me. This culminates in ‘Only the Diceys’, the extraordinary closing track in which we reach a place of resolution mapped into the album’s narrative structure. Mixed by longtime collaborator John ‘Spud’ Murphy in his Dublin-based Guerrilla Sounds Studio and mastered by Harvey Birrell …And Take The Black Worm With Me features contributions from Ruth Clinton (Landless) on church organ and vocals by Laurie Shanaman (Ails, Ludicra). Of Shanaman’s participation, in particular, which further illustrates the lo-fi and DIY ethos to the recording, Lynch says, “Laurie is my favourite black metal vocalist of all time and so I reached out to her hoping to have her involved in some way. She did, and she features on the opening track by providing some incredible screams. She recorded them into her phone and sent them over to me; what appears on the album is literally a phone recording of her screaming in her kitchen!” …And Take The Black Worm With Me continues Ian Lynch’s groundbreaking work with Lankum; recontextualising traditional forms and generating new spheres of music in his wake, confirming his status as one of the most interesting and innovative artists working in Ireland today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After many years of artistic collaboration, the long-awaited album, KILLING TIME, bringing together London-based MC Killa P and Italian Bass music collective Numa Crew, has finally arrived.

Killa P, a name synonymous with potent lyricism and raw energy in the Grime scene, delivers a vocal masterclass throughout his debut long-player, soundtracked by the stellar production of the Numa Crew. Together they expertly navigate genres including dubstep, grime, dub, and jungle, while maintaining a distinct and cohesive musical identity.

Not simply a collection of individual tracks, Killing Time is a meticulously crafted journey through sound system music. There are no stylistic boundaries, as the long-player encompasses the entire musical spectrum that unites the Italian crew with the London-based MC, with Killa P free to showcase his evolution as an artist. Alongside them, the album also brings together a diverse cast of friends and collaborators, vocalists, and producers, each adding their own unique flavor.

From the pulsating dubstep-infused Boys in Blue, a searing commentary on social inequality, to the reggae-tinged steppa tune Love Inna We Heart featuring Charlie P and Long Range, a plea for unity and love, Killa P's lyrical dexterity shines.

Tracks such as Champion Sound, Badman City Pt.2 featuring the French Ragga legend Big Red, and No Laugh featuring Big Chain and Bristol’s Buggsy are a nod to Killa P's roots, beautifully showcasing his mastery of grime's signature sound, while the sped-up tempos of the Fleck collaboration Jungle Leng, and Can't Get Me Down featuring Ras Demo, inject a jolt of Junglist attitude. Different Life is a vibrant ‘carnival’ jam, that infuses grime and dancehall moods and sees the great Lady Lykez on the second verse.

The album wraps on a contemplative note with Dreaming, a collaboration with Abstract Sonance, and Heartless, featuring Killa’s son GK on production, revealing an introspective note that adds yet more depth to Killa P's artistry.

As the album’s second track, Family, proclaims: ‘man a deal with family, not friends’ - a fitting line to define the album as a whole… An ode to the unity and strength of family.

2025 Repress
Anenon's tenor saxophone breathes an emotive contemplation on loss, meshed with sustained piano and field recordings. 'Moons Melt Milk Light' is a hyper-personal statement contained in a visceral beauty.

LA native Anenon returns with a highly anticipated new album 'Moons Melt Milk Light' on Tonal Union, bearing his most personal, expressive, and arresting works to date. Anenon is the ongoing solo studio and live project of Brian Allen Simon, whom since 2010 has released multiple albums and EPs to critical acclaim, including the highly revered 'Tongue' (2018) and 'Petrol' (2016).

'Moons Melt Milk Light' is direct, efficient, and unwavering in its immediacy. Anenon departs from the electronics of previous works, and embarks on a reductive, almost entirely acoustic approach consisting of piano, tenor saxophone, bass clarinet, and field recordings. All of the music was improvised with everything recorded as either a first or second take with no edits. Any layering happened fast and in the moment, and yet the sonic architecture of the whole feels both planned and refined.

"I feel a kinetic and messy honesty that doesn't exist in any of the other music I've ever made. There is also a sense of being settled, of calm. There is no faking it here."

Moshe Fisher-Rozenberg returns to Altin Village & Mine with his second album as Memory Pearl. »Cosmic-Astral« reimagines a music programme used by psychotherapists in the 1970s in combination with LSD. While the original album was designed to take the listener on a cosmic journey of personal discovery through classical music, Fisher-Rozenberg draws on the sounds of electronic instruments and a collage-like approach: he converted the scores of the original pieces by Richard Strauss, Alexander Scriabin, and others into MIDI files, manipulated those into entirely new shapes and sounds using a variety of techniques, while also combining them with improvisational input from artists such as Sam Prekop, Joseph Shabason, Moritz Fasbender, Alec O’Hanley, Bram Gielen, and Brandon Valdivia.

Besides his work as a multi-instrumentalist, producer and collaborator of bands such as Alvvays as well as a member of the group Absolutely Free, Fisher-Rozenberg is also a registered psychotherapist and certified music therapist. »Cosmic-Astral« is hence marked by his expertise in both fields while also displaying the conceptual rigour and aesthetic playfulness that had already been in full effect on his Memory Pearl debut, 2021’s »Music for 7 Paintings« for Altin Village & Mine. Aiming to create his own version of the »Cosmic-Astral« programme, but making it more »delicate and tender,« as he puts it, Fisher-Rozenberg combines the ethereal with the terrestrial, abstraction and concretion, synthesization and the organic across these nine tracks.

As a whole, the resulting album is quite literally trippy. »Each piece is meant to bring the listener deeper into their journey,« explains the Toronto-based artist. »You can think of it in terms of space travel, with each tune taking you further out of yourself and deeper into a cosmic realm.« Think about »Cosmic Astral« as a map through which you can find your way towards sonic healing.

Emmanuel Mario returns to Karaoke Kalk with his third album under his Astrobal moniker for the Berlin-based imprint. »L’uomo e la natura« (»Man and Nature«) sees the prolific drummer and producer, who has worked with artists such as Laetitia Sadier and label mate Pink Shabab, take a different musical route than before. The French electronic music composer pays homage to the spirit of library music while also making concessions to different strains of pop and even classical music. With only two of the ten songs putting words to the music, »L’uomo e la natura« is a masterful exercise in the evocation of atmospheres: expressing much while saying very little outright—show, don’t tell.

The album was born out of a desire to push the envelope. »I wanted to make music that was both pop and ambitious in its chord progressions as well as surprising in its construction,« explains the Paris-based artist. Taking inspiration from library music artists such as Alessandro Alessandroni or Bruno Nicolai as well as the more cosmic strains of electronic instrumental music, he strove »to create a soundtrack that would immediately bring to mind outer space.« The first of the three singles released ahead of the full album, »L’abeille pourpre,« captures this spirit with funky rhythms and an overjoyed interplay of different melodies, all tied together by wordless yet terminally catchy vocals.

The second single, »Miami 2064,« traverses through many different moods in its six-minute run-time: Starting off as neo-noir synth-wave piece, it then proceeds to pay its dues to the masters of the cosmic music tradition such as Tangerine Dream or, of course, Jean-Michel Jarre before slowly descending back to Earth with guitars and dreamy synthetic vocals, playfully punctuated by a plethora of wistful melodies. It is the perfect encapsulation of the open-ended approach Mario follows throughout the entire album, taking full creative licence in regards to songwriting and arrangements. »I wanted to surprise myself,« he shrugs. He succeeded.

»L’uomo e la natura« rewards multiple listens not only emotionally, but also intellectually. »I also wanted to talk about politics and ecology, because it’s impossible not to,« Mario notes. Some of the track titles express this more openly than others and the two title tracks sung by Mario and Nina Savary use French and Italian lyrics, respectively. However, as a whole the album leaves things open to interpretation. Does »The End of Capitalism« sound elegiac or triumphant? And what do you actually make of this musical vision of the Floridian metropolis, whose mere existence is threatened by climate change already today, four decades from now? Mario doesn’t necessarily answer these questions—he doesn’t tell, he shows.

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.

Time for the second release in our series with the super OG, Mr. Bobby Aitken. Bobby and his band the Carib Beats produced a whole lot of stuff for release thru WIRL back in the late '60s. One of the best is this great rocksteady adaptation of Curtis’ classic “Keep On Pushing”, with Lloyd (Robinson) and Glen (Brown) on vocals. On the flip side of this is one of the rarest Carib Beats tunes, titled “Soul Special.” This is a cool instrumental with some charming flute playing (we love flute!), only ever released as the flip of “Crying Time” (still available), a brutally rare 45 that only exists in tiny numbers as a UK test pressing, never making it to full release.

Ring the alarm - multi-instrumentalist Jimi Jules scheduled for the album „+“ in 2022, executive produced by Innervisions label boss Dixon. The album features the most sought after and requested tracks of the last month including „My City's On Fire“, revolutionary „Der Aufstand“, dancefloor romance „Burning“ and „Clinomania“ featuring Joy Tyson, and fabulous Lily Allen / Elton John drummer Nathan Curran. The artwork concept is developed and designed by iconic graphic artist Trevor Jackson, whose multi-disciplinary works formed the graphical identities of design, music, fashion, and art by the likes of Soulwax, HFD / Comme des Garcons or Apple Music. Jimi Jules’ second album signifies his return to future-focussed album concepts. A welcomed novelty and venture. Exploring themes such as free thoughts and togetherness after a period of interpersonal absence. Better Together Forever.

A unique character in the electronic music scene, Jimi Jules is a multi-instrumentalist and school-trained musician with much more to offer than the standard four-to-floor sound. Jimi plays nearly everything from drums to trumpet and sings almost all the vocals himself. The talent probably lies in his roots, as many of his family members are known for their playing in jazz bands and classical ensembles. Most recently awarded a silver disk marking 200,000 copies of the 2020 track “Pushin On” in the UK, Jimi Jules also commenced a new collaborative partnership with Berlin-based booking agency, Temporary Secretary, earlier this year.

As the new era is underway for Innervisions, Jimi Jules “+” takes center stage of the label’s fundamental core - artist first, label second. For Jimi Jules especially, this new project represents the beginning of a whole new platform and innovative space for collaborations and symbiosis of mixed media.

2025 Repress on clear orange Vinyl!

Tempat Angker (haunted place) is a Halloween mixtape compiled by music researcher and artist Luigi Monteanni, aka Neurotica Exotica.

To celebrate a second year of fieldwork research in West Java and to bring together the longing for All Hallows’ Eve partying with the archipelago’s richness in local and historical horror folklore tropes, figures, characters and stories, Artetetra’s co-founder cuts up 120 minutes of soundtracks, sound effects and dialogues from the glorious and extensive Indonesian horror movies tradition counting more than 700 titles.

Hear it from speculative horror and sci-fi filmmaker Riar Rizaldi (whole essay in the tape’s leaflet):

“The popularity of cinematic media during the New Order era led to the unprecedented development of more rapid and large-scale production methods. ⁤⁤Genre films, particularly horror and fantasy, emerged as some of the most prolific outputs, with hundreds being produced annually. ⁤⁤The filmmaking process was accelerated, and post-production ᅳ especially sound design ᅳ was completed as swiftly as possible. ⁤⁤Notably, veteran composer and musician Gatot Sudarto, who had worked extensively on drama films in the 1970s, became a regular contributor to studios producing horror and fantasy films in the following decade ᅳ although composer Embie C. Noer was also active during this period, his focus was more on action “sword and sandals” films. ⁤⁤Gatot’s influence in the music departments of these films was significant, helping to create an authentic soundscape. ⁤He adapted many of the compositional techniques used in European horror films (mostly the usage of harpsichord) at the time, blending them with the bass synths characteristic of American horror, while incorporating local and regional instruments to tailor the sound to Indonesian audiences.”

By sampling excerpts from 43 movies spanning the ages from the early seventies to the two thousand and tens, mostly trying to portrait the sound influence of the vintage horror era made popular by the “queen of horror”, actress Suzzanna, Tempat Angker throws you into decades of experimentation in conjuring the sound of Indonesian terror. Unearthly screams, bombastic fights, bamboo music, eighties synthy extravaganza, ominous sound effects, sexy dangdut, evilish pitched vocals, gamelan, eerie laughters from beyond and even calls to prayer fill the air in the spooky month!

On the Mixbone EP, two tracks from Eric Copeland’s 2017 record Goofballs get reworked by five of leftfield electronic music’s heaviest hitters. The Goofballs LP finds the Black Dice founding member conducting hectic, dancefloor-oriented experiments; The Vinyl Factory called it a “mangled, spangled journey into the fringes of industrial disco and hallucinatory club tackle.” Mixbone capitalizes on this direction with remixes that recontextualize and reshape the propulsive energy of the original songs into wholly different forms.

New York techno powerhouse and Allergy Season boss Physical Therapy contributes two aptly named takes on “Mixer Shredder” – the “Tegel Mix” churns with industrial EBM low-end, and the breakbeat and wubby bassline make the “Gatwick Mix” unmistakably English. NHK yx Koyxen remixes Eric for the second time, with a jittery and woozy electro interpretation of “Neckbone.” Cooper Saver, best known for his Far Away parties in Los Angeles, turns in one of the most unexpected remixes, keeping it 4/4 and creating what sounds like Shep Pettibone making acid house.

Coming off of her 2017 EP on Technicolour/Ninja Tune, Machine Woman decided to remix both tracks. With “Neckbone,” she adds a barely-discernible robotic narrative vocal, allegedly about Ryan Gosling. “Mixer Shredder,” on the other hand, travels from hissy lo-fi techno into something quite tranquil and beautiful. And with previous releases on 1080p, Freakout Cult, and Wania, Vancouver’s LNS channels the melodic electro tones of classic Bleep-era Warp, like a lost track from LFO or Drexciya.

“Danceable” might not be the first word one thinks of when describing Eric Copeland’s solo releases. But in a manner not dissimilar to the way Black Dice shaped the parameters of experimental music, the remixes here expand the limits of what the club can and should look like.

LP limited to 500 LP copies. Nina Garcia ’s first solo record widely available via international distribution. Nina has collaborated with artists like Stephen O’Malley, Sophie Agnel, Fred Frith, Antoine Chessex, Louis Schild, Leila Bordreuil, and supported for bands like Sonic Youth, SUNN O))). After a decade of performing concerts under the Mariachi guise, Nina Garcia has finally unveiled her unique approach in Bye Bye Bird, her first album under her name. Bye Bye Bird is her second solo album. With no pretence or demonstration, the album is a captivating blend of chiaroscuro, melodies, and raw emotion. Nina Garcia’s album takes on an almost documentary-like quality by adopting a simple approach to gesture and sound recording. It offers a candid portrayal of a moment, a lack, a state, and a breathtaking energy. With ostinato as her only credo, Nina Garcia’s music is an experiment in freedom, where the peaks answer the abysses, and the power of movement and the emotion of sound serves as her compass. From very short (01:28) to never very long (07:34), the eight tracks that make up this set explore a moment, a space, a mechanism, an intention or a way of doing things. As a common feature of almost all these pieces (all but one, the last), Nina Garcia explores a new technique. She adds to her instrumentation, reduced to the essentials (a guitar, a pedal and an amp), an electromagnetic microphone which, when held in hand, makes it possible to listen in on the exact zones where the vibration of the string creates a sound amid vast spaces of silence. The guitar is unplugged, and the body/instrument relationship changes in dimension. In this series of variations, you can get caught up in masses of noise seen from very, very close up, evocations of melodies in the making, feedback on ridgelines, pulsations that hold their own, modulations weakened by exhaustion and harmonic bursts that hint at better days to come. Neither hopelessly chthonic nor beatifically ethereal, Bye Bye Bird is a sum of musical pieces that make a whole and give voice to echoes of what has been, the presence of what is and the hope of what will be, a record movement in the form of flight and salvation. Since 2015, Nina Garcia has been researching and creating around the electric guitar, halfway between improvised music and noise. On numerous stages in Europe and North America, she has played occasionally with Stephen O’Malley, Sophie Agnel, Fred Frith, Antoine Chessex, Louis Schild or with Luke Stewart and Leila Bordreuil’s Feedback Ensemble, in addition to more regular formations in which she participates, such as the ensemble Le Un, mamiedaragon, Autoreverse (with Arnaud Rivière), duets with trombonist Maria Bertel and percussionist Camille Émaille, and the installation piece De Haut En Bas, De Bas En Haut Et Latéralement (with Christophe Cardoen, Jennifer Caubet, Etienne Foyer, Anna Gaïotti and Romain Simon). “Nina Garcia has been actively moving the art of noise guitar into surprising and intriguing new spaces. She has been at it for some time now, a bit of a secret weapon all the while hiding in plain sight. As I listen to her music and ruminate upon seeing her perform it brings me to a realization which I have with very few musicians: the ego inherent in making art can be transcended through a purity of direct action. At least that’s the feeling I have when experiencing Nina’s music which comes across as serious and radical and wholly engaged in the moment of its creative impulse.

Makhunik Records is thrilled to announce the much anticipated second vinyl only release from the talented DJ, producer, and live performer, Generali Minerali. Known for his distinctive blend of raw electro/break sounds and techno, Generali Minerali has established himself as a prominent figure in the electronic music scene with a string of successful releases on esteemed record labels. With a discography that includes 8 EPs, 1 LP, and numerous contributions to various VA compilations, Generali Minerali brings a wealth of experience and expertise to his music. His productions are characterized by their immersive textures and dynamic rhythms, drawing inspiration from a wide range of electronic dance music genres such as Techno, Electro, Break, and Acid. As a crew member and resident artist of the TES Club, Generali Minerali has solidified his place as a driving force in the electronic music community, captivating audiences with his unparalleled live performances and DJ sets that span a diverse spectrum of sounds and vibes. The upcoming release, Dance In Factory EP, invites listeners to embark on a sonic journey through the depths of the mind. Each track on the EP, from the mesmerizing K Driver to the introspective Phase In Head, is a testament to Generali Mineralis skillful production and innovative approach to sound design. The concept behind Dance In Factory reflects the interconnected nature of humanity, where we are all integral parts of a larger whole, dancing to the rhythms of life. Through tracks like River and Transformer Fox, Generali Minerali invites listeners to explore the depths of their consciousness and experience a world of boundless creativity and imagination.

repressed !

It's been a busy 3 years since Danny Berman aka Red Rack'em released on his own Bergerac imprint.

Since then he's toured relentlessly, released a whole album of live music based disco/punk funk for Sonar Kollektiv as Hot Coins, managed to completely update his biggest track 'In Love Again' to make it a hit the second time around plus released spaced out, wonky party smashers on Wolf Music, Phonica, City Fly and Telefonplan.

While all this was going on Bergerac was largely on ice but now Berman is turning his energy back to the label with a vengeance.
Wonky Bassline Disco Banger is accurately titled. An uplifting intro breaks down into a slamming disco house number and just when you think you know what's going on...
Then the trademark Red Rack'em wonky bass drops in. 150% Guaranteed party smasher... Jazzy House Extension is super vintage Red Rack'em from around 2004 - something for the jazz heads out there - cracked out piano and far too loud double bass come together to birth a euphoric yet banging snapshot of a producer learning his chops. Destined is a slightly demented leftfield house number featuring mangled, pitch shifting fretless bass and vocals samples discussing someone's destiny.
A woozy end to the EP.

Roberto Cacciapaglia is an Italian composer and pianist who started out in the fertile Milan avant-garde scene of the 1970s, which included Franco Battiato, Giusto Pio, Lino Capra Vaccina, Francesco Messina, among others. After studying at the conservatory, he worked at RAI's Studio of Musical Phonology – an electronic music laboratory similar to NDR/WDR in Germany, GRM/IRCAM in France or BBC Radiophonic Workshop.

Originally released in 1979, Sei Note In Logica (Six Notes In Logic) is Cacciapaglia's second album. While his debut, Sonanze, offers a series of ambient mini-soundtracks, Sei Note presents a singular, sinuous piece. The composition is based on a finite set of musical notes, yet this limitation is the point of departure for a grand tour of possible combinations and enthralling timbres (marimbas, strings, reeds and human voice).

Like Steve Reich's Music For 18 Musicians, the joyous experiment of Sei Note is grounded in constant variation. Often doubled by multiple instruments, non-repeating patterns are exquisitely layered, while electro-acoustic signals transform and further refract through visceral effects. Within this conceptual framework, Cacciapaglia does not so much juxtapose rigid dichotomies – acoustic vs. electronic, melodic vs. dissonant, simple vs. complex – as fuse them into an expansive whole.

What started as an inspired study in Minimalism becomes a bold feat of 20th century music. Sei Note In Logica is deeply sincere and, at the same time, quite playful. With one foot firmly planted in the past and the other steeped in technology, Cacciapaglia's influence can be heard in the work of Jim O'Rourke, Fennesz and Ben Vida.

To give you an idea of what the New Jersey, USA band Cowardice sound like, “Atavist” exists somewhere on the spectrum between the sombre strains of Bell Witch and the tormented tones of Body Void, with the first half of the album (“Suzerain”) erring more towards the bleakly melodic style of the former, while part two (“Sentinel”) shifts the focus towards a darker, dirgier approach; somewhere on the edges between melancholic doom and experimental sludge metal. Perhaps inevitably, it’s not quite that cut and dry - the gut-churning grind of “Unforgeable Key” for example, is just as nasty and gnarly as anything found on “Sentinel”, while the desolate disharmonies of “The Diminutive Principle” channel a similarly angst-ridden aura as much of “Suzerain” - but this distinction between the two halves, subtle as it may be, plays a big role in giving the whole album its sense of direction and progression.

And while it is always recommended to listen to the totality of “Atavist” so as to get the most out of it - especially if you’re a fan of the likes of Cavernlight and/or Chained To The Bottom Of The Ocean, both of whom also serve as useful touchstones for any prospective listener - also pay extra attention to the gorgeously gloomy slow-burn of opener “To The Hilt Of Humanity”, the haunting melodies and heaving grooves of the sludge-soaked “Clairvoyance Anxiety” and the morbid majesty of “Hall Of Mages”, as some of the record’s major highlights. Indeed, it’s this last track which will both test your resolve and prove, once and for all, that “Atavist” is more than worth every second you’ve invested into listening to it so far, with every crushing, cathartic chord and ringing, harmonic note… every tortured, suffering snarl and trembling, melancholy melody… coming together over the course of seventeen absolutely massive minutes to demonstrate that, despite its imposing size and intense sound, “Atavist” is nothing to be afraid of. Green and red coloured double vinyl edition.

Stars align and Oli Heffernan brings his ever-(d)evolving Ivan The Tolerable to Riot Season for two LPs of sublime entropic drift.
Having this time recruited Christian Alderson (The Unit Ama) on drums, John Pope (Ponyland) on double bass, Kevin Nickles (Ecstatic Vision) on flute and saxophone and Ben Hopkinson on electric piano - both works were recorded as a quintet almost instantaneously, the players barely brushing or breathing a note before the whole thing was done.

The first LP, Vertigo, is all claustrophobic, dense and disorientating - like Sun Ra sitting in with Exploding Star Orchestra
Whereas the second LP, Water Music, is the music of lapping waves, becalmed, creaking hulls, circling birds and gentle winds. - Equal parts Laraaji and Natural Information Society
Bob Fischer (Electronic Sound Magazine) on ‘Water Music’
"A summer's afternoon daydream of an album. Beautifully soothing psychedelic jazz overflowing with raga delights...immerse yourself in its charms"

John Hubner (Complex Distractions) on ‘Vertigo’
“An expansive collection of free-flowing sound and mood bringing to mind Coltrane (John and Alice) as well as the great Albert Aylor, while touching on the forward thinking compositions of Rob Mazurek's Exploding Star Orchestra. From the titanic soundscape of "New Worlds On Earth" to the Marc Moulin touches of "Liquid Voices" and the mysterious eccentricities of "Swimming", 'Vertigo' hangs in the air long after the final note plays.”

Indignation Meeting are punky rail fans from Leeds. 15-year-old Peter is the driver - he's the drummer and lead singer, writes most of the songs, and also plays bass and trumpet on the album. The rest of the crew is his dad Michael on guitar, Hugo on bass, and with Keith, Heather and Sally often along for the ride when they play out. Here at DGHQ we loved listening to their self-released debut album Trouble In The Shed so much we eventually released it on vinyl for the first time. They now have a second album! Vocalist/drummer Peter very kindly talks us through the (train) tracks_ * "The Trainspotting Song" - Now, as a train geek, I go out filming trains an awful lot, and one thing you can't help noticing whilst out in the wilds of Staffordshire or the moors of Lancashire are a whole load of unnecessary 'Private Land' signs. This song is my response_ * "The Talyllyn Railway" - The history of the Talyllyn Railway is a fascinating one that I've long since wanted to explore, due to its unique nature as the first railway to ever be taken over by volunteers. This is the result! * "The Middleton Railway" - As a volunteer at the Middleton Railway, I had felt that a song needed to be written for quite a while. However, our guitarist Michael, ended up beating me to it! * "A Model World" - It was late one night, and I was lying on my sofa, trying my hardest to gain an ounce of enjoyment from 'Hornby; A Model World.' It was proving quite hard, due to the alarming lack of substance in the programme, so instead I decided that its name was rather good, and could be the basis of a song explaining my 'model world.' And, well, here it is! * "The Fifth Black Five" - This song is dedicated to the railway preservationists of old, who spent countless hours in cold, damp, dreary sidings, all to make sure us future generations would be able to enjoy the smell of a steam train. Thanks guys! * "Case Study" - This song is a commentary on the sensationalisation of disasters, when there's a massive tragedy and people at home just sit in their comfy sofas, watching the news and drinking tea. We know what's going on, but we can just choose to turn off the TV and forget it ever happened and continue with our lives. It also relates to the dehumanisation of those disasters you experience in school, where you have to write essays on someone who's just become homeless. It seems quite heartless sometimes_ * "Loco Motives" - This song is a fictional story of a man's personal struggle with a railway company, and the drastic measures he took to fix them_ * "That Would Never Suit His Grace" - With model railways, you always seem to get a few people who can never be satisfied with a layout or a model - no matter how hard someone's tried, there's always something to improve on, and they're never nice about it either. This song is a reality check for them_ * "Small Black Shunter" - This is our second homage to Zounds - Electrification would never be truly complete without its B-side. And this B-side is the story of a little loco who wanted to see the world. * "Rhydyronen" - Slowly but surely, we're going to pick off all of the stations on the Talyllyn Railway. Starting where Abergynolwyn left off, this is the story of our second favourite station on the TR. * "Typically English Day" - This is an homage to Mark Astronaut, a true punk genius who was gone before his time. Although there were many songs we could've picked to cover, it only seemed right to punk up one of his most popular tracks, and one of the main ones that got me into the Astronauts in the first place - Typically English Day, a heart-wrenching tale of an elderly couple trapped in the middle of a nuclear war, following their last moments before their inevitable demise. * "Just For The Record" - There is too much misinformation in the media these days, and one case I found particularly egregious was the gross misrepresentation of the strikers, who aren't so evil as the media want you to believe_

12” paddling pool blue vinyl, is an edition of 500. CD Digifile. Following the runaway success of their critically acclaimed 2021 second album Contender, the question for fast-rising London four-piece Fightmilk was always going to be “what next?” With a tight indie-pop sound that defined their early recordings, the answer was obvious to a band who seem hellbent on the notion of evolve or die… The band originally formed in 2015 in a Brixton pub garden by Lily and Alex, who had both, separately, just been dumped and thought being in an angry punk band would cheer them up. Then they found Nick and Healey to hold the rhythm down and make them sound good. With three albums under their belt, they’ve perfected their chaotic, melodic brand of joy and rage-filled pop with full-throated yelling and sparkling guitar riffs as their trademark. They’ve graduated from angsty whippersnappers in their mid-twenties to overgrown teenage 30-somethings with mild ongoing back and shoulder pain. Their previous 2 albums Not With That Attitude (2018) & Contender (2021) marked them out as an ambitious and rising prospect, and now on their forthcoming new album No Souvenirs the band eschew their former Britpop ties and edge further into DIY punk and heavier rock influences to reveal a leaner, meaner, more abrasive side to their cathartic lo-fi anthems. Whilst collectively diving into their passion for Jimmy Eat World, frontwoman Lily Rae made a conscious decision to strengthen her “big loud yell” with influence from Alicia Bognanno (Bully), Nat Foster (Press Club), and Missy Dabice (Mannequin Pussy). “My voice is the biggest it’s ever been and I’m constantly thrilled when people are surprised at how loud I am, considering I’m so small in stature,” she grins. “Lyrically I always look to Bruce Springsteen for inspiration but I also really enjoyed the angsty candour of Sour by Olivia Rodrigo, and Kacey Musgraves’ impeccable one-liners.” There are a few genre experiments on the record—Yo La Tengo in ‘Paddling Pool’, ‘Canines’ is part The Strokes and part Neu!, and ‘Back From Tour’ was heavily influenced by long term friends Johnny Foreigner. “You could probably make a case for ‘Inferno’ having a bit of Counting Crows to it, but we were never writing to emulate,” explains guitarist Alex. “The references and touchstones just happened along the way. As far as we’re concerned, they just sound like Fightmilk - and that’s a really nice place to be nearly a decade in.” “That said, we’ve also been REALLY picky with the songs that made it onto the album - there’s probably an-other album’s worth of songs that didn’t feel right, even if we loved them. We got really good at finding the “magic thing” in each song that made it work.” Spilling over with candid lyrics about death, doomed love, and dog bites, framed by endless punk energy and the kind of full-throated riff-rock that sounds just at home in a giant stadium as it does in a sticky-floored toilet bar, No Souvenirs is a triumphant return from the band, who are equally enthused by the album. “I only realised after we put the songs together how personal to me this album was,” explains Lily. “Not just because I’m writing about extremely specific sitcom episodes in my life (getting fired from bridesmaid duty, being bitten on the arse by a dog, being relentlessly asked when I’m going to have kids), but because whilst we were making it, I turned 30. It’s a significant age for women, especially in music, because aside from being something called a ‘geriatric millennial’, there’s an unspoken rule that there’s a cut-off point for you to have ‘made it’ and after that you have to settle down and be normal.” For Lily, writing for the album also aligned with the 10th anniversary of the death of a close friend, with the resulting track ‘No Souvenirs’ lending its title to the album as a whole. “It had taken me that long to write about it in a way I felt ok with. But I realised that I couldn’t have written it before,” she explains. “I needed that distance, and that maturity, to be able to articulate those feelings. It feels to me now like the album is about scorched earth, moving on, taking nothing with you for the next ‘thing’ - and realising that getting older is a privilege.” Bringing a huge amount of energy and joy with them whenever and wherever they hit a stage, interacting with the audience is a vital part of the Fightmilk live experience. “Without people singing and dancing at us we wouldn’t have gigs at all, so we want everyone to get involved!” says Lily of the band’s future tour plans

s*x m*ney dr*gs is the third studio album from Chicago rapper Lucki, and debuted at number 15 on the US Billboard 200, marking Lucki’s second consecutive top 25 release on the chart. At 15 tracks, the album includes explosive tracks such as 2021 Vibes, Mubu, No Bap, & Gemini Love, and features a lone guest appearance from equally mercurial rapper, Veeze. To commemorate the one year anniversary of its release, s*x m*ney dr*gs is receiving the vinyl treatment. The standard variant is pressed on Sweetart Colored Vinyl, housed in a gatefold jacket, and includes a 12 page full color booklet.

Diving deeper into the story of Japanese reggae pop, Tokyo Riddim Vol. 2 explores an electronic, new wave and often experimental sound unlike anything Japan or Jamaica had ever heard before.

The first time Ryuichi Sakamoto left Japan, he did not go to the United States or Europe - he went to Jamaica. It was 1978, YMO were about to release their debut album, but Sakamoto was in Kingston, invited to play synths for Japanese idol singer Teresa Noda at Dynamic Sound Studios in a band alongside Neville Hinds and none other than Rita Marley. It’s not a story many know, but one which would spark Sakamoto’s fascination with dub and mark a new chapter in the ongoing Japanese love affair with reggae.

The Teresa Noda tracks they cut - ‘Tropical Love’ and ‘Yellow Moon’ - bookend this second volume of Time Capsule’s Tokyo Riddim compilation, which tells the wider story of how a fascination with Jamrock swept Japan, adding a dash of lime to that sweet city pop sound, embracing a globalised musical palette and creating a whole new genre in the process.

For some, like Sakamoto, a diversion into reggae was part of broader fascination with new sounds and styles, tipped into the global disco of homage and appropriation that made Japanese music of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s some of the most creative and undefinable in the world.

You had iconic shape-shifter Yosui Inoue, who toyed with reggae, afro-beat and electro-Balearic, (and whose For Life Records released several tracks on this comp), and Kay Ishiguro, who enlisted J-reggae originator Pecker on the ambitious Stevie Wonder-esque ‘Red Drip’.

Then there were the Compass Point devotees - producers and musicians alike who were enthralled by the sound of the Bahamas studio and drew on the detached cool of Grace Jones - as heard in the music of Juicy Fruits, and the disco noir of Casablanca-signed femme fatale Yuki Nakayamate. Sometimes, as was the case with Risa Minami, the J-reggae influence said more about Japan than it did about Jamaica.

But where Tokyo Riddim Vol. 1 focused on the city pop sound, this compilation goes further, digging out the more experimental collaborations and hybrids exemplified by Tomoko Aran, who in working with Yusuaki Shimizu and Mariah emphasised just how far reggae had travelled to be recast into something entirely new on the other side of the world.

Perhaps more than anything, in connecting the dots between Tokyo and Kingston, between Jamaica and Japan, the Japanese reggae was building a musical language that existed outside of the paradigms of US and European cultural hegemony - an encounter shaped by commerce, capital and creativity that is now being recognised more broadly for the first time.

"Ukraine's most beloved and enduring band Okean Elzy will release their first-ever English-language studio album, Lighthouse, on October 11 via Elektra. The group herald the record’s announcement with the title track and new single ‘Lighthouse’ featuring John Rzeznik of Goo Goo Dolls. Produced by John Feldmann (Blink 182, Avril Lavigne, 5 Seconds of Summer), and co-written by Slava, Feldmann and Eva Arnby Busacker (5 Seconds of Summer, Landon Barker), the track also features Travis Barker on drums. A portion of the proceeds from the song will be donated to United24, an initiative launched by the president of Ukraine in support of the country during the ongoing war. The song is accompanied by a cinematic music video – available to stream on the band’s You Tube Channel
Okean Elzy’s lead vocalist Sviastoslav ‘Slava’ Vakarchuk says, ""The creative process was a unique experience for me. Working alongside Feldy and Evey was both fun and inspirational. The song came together in a matter of minutes. Having Travis on drums took the vibe up to a whole other level, and is yet another example of how special the human camaraderie and support is on this track.""
""Lighthouse is a very powerful metaphor for me,"" Slava continues. ""As a Ukrainian I couldn't think of a better metaphor to express our hope for the future, which is part of why the song and album bear that name.""
Okean Elzy radiate luminous energy through ‘Lighthouse’. Anchored to a steady beat, warm guitars ebb and flow beneath a heartfelt promise, “Take my hand, I’ll get you through the storm.” The momentum builds as the song climaxes on an uplifting chorus, “Tonight, I’ll be your lighthouse, shining on.” Meanwhile, Vakarchuk and Rzeznik lock into a bold and bright back-and-forth. The music video seamlessly translates this energy to the screen, capturing the chemistry between the frontmen.
With their upcoming album, Okean Elzy aims to transcend borders and share the rich tapestry of Ukrainian culture with audiences around the world. The album will include collaborations from Travis Barker (Blink-182), Paul O'Duffy and Diane Warren.
In support of Lighthouse, a portion of their North American tour’s proceeds will be donated to Open Eyes Fund, specifically supporting their Drive For Life initiative, whose goal is to deliver 30 ambulances, along with essential medical equipment to the frontlines where urgent medical assistance is required. These efforts will be in addition to the 242 ambulances already delivered to Ukraine and 36,000 lives saved previously by Open Eyes. Following their North American tour, Okean Elzy are set to headline the O2 Academy Brixton in London on December 4. Check out the full confirmed itinerary below. General on-sale begins today at 10am local time.
Consistently selling-out stadium shows, winning multiple YUNA Awards (the nation’s equivalent to the Grammys or the BRITs), and topping airplay charts, Okean Elzy are undoubtedly Ukraine’s biggest band."

Unlike most of Grant Green's many trio albums, Green Street, which was his second LP as a leader following Grant's First Stand, didn't make use of the organ or the piano, consisting instead of guitar-bass-drums format. Backed by such subtle players as Ben Tucker and Dave Bailey, Green could showcase his talents with no inhibition, making this one of the most remarkable works of his whole career. 180-GRAM COLORED BLUE VINYL - THE COMPLETE LP + 1 BONUS TRACK - Contains new specially prepared liner notes by Penguin Guide to Jazz's writer BRIAN MORTON and by Paris' prestigious JAZZ MAGAZINE. LIMITED EDITION







[f] Alone Together [Alt. Take]

The long awaited release of BEHEMOTH's second spectacular streaming concert. When other bands streamed from their rehearsal rooms during the pandemic years, polish extreme metal kings BEHEMOTH took things to a whole new level with this sensationally set up concert including full production and a 90 minutes long career spanning set list.