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The sounds across these four tracks were made by SIM and NAP from 2021 to 2023 with lots of love and bass... the sessions started from the first time they met at NAP's studio, point always to kick it, jam and see what happens. After a couple months of that of course a sound develops, a process shines and a friendship grows. After a year or so trust built and a language made present. Transcending the spoken word and feeling unique to both...things start to really go off and the jams turn to songs. Two years pass and it’s time to celebrate with the marker and archive of all those deep sessions, now in edited form to be shared with all. And yeah, you can have all in common with someone when it comes to digging wubs, riddims and drum machines but add vulnerable earnest meetings with meals in between and good conversation about things other than music (or maybe how other things relate to it) and then you get something really special, something like SINNAZ. SIM and NAP journeying into collaboration with a debut EP of rhythmic noise, driving bog beats, swampy dembows, radioactive Dancehall and unhinged experimentalia.

DMX Krew announces his return to Peggy Gou's Gudu Records with a new four-track EP, sharing the dreamy, Detroit-inspired title track, ‘Return to Jupiter’.

The full EP - out 14th April 2023 - will be his second release for the label and Gudu’s first release of 2023, set to be the label’s busiest year yet.

Ed DMX made his debut for Gudu with 2019’s Don’t You Wanna Play? EP, becoming the first artist to release on the label outside Peggy herself. Ed and Gudu have retained a regular working relationship ever since: he mastered Indonesian crate-digger Dea’s ‘Glazer Drum’ release for Gudu, contributed a pair of remixes to the reissue of Riff’s South African electro curio ‘Jacks Jive’, and now returns to the label with Return to Jupiter, a new original four-track EP.

Ed has been one of electronic music’s most respected faces for over 25 years. Debuting in the mid-1990s, he released his first decade of music almost exclusively through Grant Wilson-Claridge and Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label and his own Breakin’ imprint, but recent years have seen him ply his trade across a who’s who of dance music’s most respected underground labels: including Hypercolour, Balkan Vinyl, Central Processing Unit and, of course, Gudu.

Inspired by the futurist funk and vivid synthesiser epics of classic Detroit, ‘Return to Jupiter’ is dripping with richness and colour, driven by the sort of thick analogue basslines and distinctive melodies that have come to define Ed’s catalogue. The EP’s title track sets the tone for what’s to follow, introducing a language of sorts for the record - before ‘Altered Chords’ turns the funk up to 11, ‘U Ain’t Down’ aims its distorted kicks and wiggy, manipulated lead straight at peak time dancefloors, and ‘I Love Juan’ closes the EP on a star-gazing tip.

Founded by Peggy Gou in 2019, Gudu releases music from a global roster of artists, including DMX Krew, Maurice Fulton, Hiver, Dea, Mogwaa, Brain de Palma, Dukwa, JRMS and Peggy herself (including the hits ‘Starry Night’, ‘I Go’ and ‘Nabi’). 2023 will see Gudu’s busiest year to date, with new releases scheduled from the current roster and some exciting new faces.

Drop a needle on Psyché's debut double-sider – the debut album is out on May 19th – and you'll see visions, or rather Mediterranean visions, be they of waves of heat shimmering above dunes of sand, or of women dancing around a bonfire on a rocky plain, or of bushy cliffs overlooking emerald-green and turquoise sea. The name Psyché is of course ancient Greek for 'soul' or 'mind',signifying the band's love of psychedelic funk, but also the wide range of Mediterranean influences – from Southern Europe to the Balkan Peninsula, and from Anatolia to the Maghreb – that provide an endless source of inspiration for their hypnotic sound and minimalist style.

Psyché members Marcello Giannini (Guru, Nu Genea, Slivovitz), Andrea De Fazio (Parbleu, Nu Genea, Funkin Machine) and Paolo Petrella (Nu Genea) have been active in the Naples music scene for almost two decades, most notably during the first wave of the new Neapolitan Power movement (Slivovitz, Revenaz Quartet). Over the years they have often crossed paths and collaborated on side projects in various genres (math-rock duo Arduo and, more recently, Italo-disco duo Fratelli Malibu), before working together as the rhythm section of Nu Genea's live band. Following their first tour with Nu Genea in 2018, they started Psyché with the intent of exploring more minimalist styles and making musicwith just a few elements.

A unique combination of psychedelia, groove and improvisation, the music of Psyché goes back to the roots of our future; it evokes visions of a mythical past, blending centuries-old music traditions and mixing them with modern genres. Like a warm Mediterranean breeze, it travels across lands, seas and eras, distilling essential rhythms and cosmic pulsations.

"Cumbia Mahàre", on side A of the 7-inch, dives deep into the origins of rhythm, drawing us into the movements of an imaginary ritual dance (the term mahàre was used in Southern Italian dialects to indicate witches). Through the interplay between minimal synths and exhilarating rhythmic patterns of drums, percussion, guitar and bass, Psyché take a fresh and bold approach to contemporary afrobeat and cumbia fusion.

"Ophis", on side B, is a mesmeric blend of African, Balkan and Turkish rhythms and sounds. Ethereal vocalizations and warm, hypnotic bass lines combine with psychedelic riffs and haunting melodies on guitar to evoke ancient cultures whose spiritslithers like a snake across the dunes of a sun-scorched desert.

French techno titan Madben unveils his much anticipated ‘Troisième Sens’ LP on Maceo Plex’s Ellum Audio.

Madben started absorbing the techno of Jeff Mills, Dave Clarke and Speedy J in the 90s, growing up in Lille in northern France. He retains a passion for DIY culture and warehouse parties thanks to youthful raving at Brussels' Fuse, Gent's Kozzmozz or in abandoned factories in Courtrai. All this has shone through in his music, including a debut album on Astropolis in 2018 that featured a collaboration with Laurent Garnier and a recent EP for Garnier and Scan X’s label.

Over the last decade, he has become a European club and festival favourite playing places like Berghain and Awakenings. His studio boasts a fine array of machines utilised to full effect on this latest opus. ‘Troisième Sens’ perfectly reflects what the artist has always loved, listened to and played, keeping one eye on the dance floor but never at the expense of musical narrative. It’s a genuinely progressive, multi-genre body of work that allows listeners to fully immerse themselves in the seemingly limitless depths of the Frenchman’s sonic capabilities.

He says, “Over the years, I learned to have more fun with the gear in my studio, and this has been the result. The album took three years to finish; I started in an underground basement studio in Paris before moving to Nantes. Therefore, it may surprise listeners with such a diverse selection of moods. It's dark in places but happy in others.”

'Departure' kicks off with uplifting synth work and broken techno beats that have a celebratory feel. 'Addicted' is a lithe cut with steamy vocals and a more fulsome combo of drums and bass, while 'Circuit Breaker' cuts loose in the cosmos. Acid wobbles, smeared synths and metallic percussion all make for a bouncy cut before 'Fade In Fade Out' continues the cosmic trip with vastly oversized synth patterns that will light up a dark space with overwhelming euphoria.

The brilliant 'It's 1 am In A Rave' is a dark, heads-down banger with 'Lost Memories' then layering up melancholic synths and Plastikman-style drum loops into something full of deep thought. There is no let up with the superb acid techno gymnastics of 'No fear', and 'The March' is a turbulent mix of sheet metal synths that whip about over steel-plated drums. 'You Dance Like A Robot' is end-of-the-world electro with a menacing robot vocal, and the electro tip continues with expert drum programming and menacing leads on 'Deep In The Jungle'. 'Meta' is a flailing rhythmic workout that sounds like the machines are in meltdown, and 'I Made A Dream During This Nightmare' is a serene techno soundscape for ruminating about the future of the human race.

Intelligent yet immediate, impactful but emotional, ‘Troisième Sens’ is another standout techno record from Madben.

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

Angelo is an EP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist and singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy's father and both of Stuart's parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo's sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, "to get us out of our grief and into our bodies," says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal _ a resourceful, collective answer to "what happens now?". Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. "Such a bro-y, `80s dude car, it's been super fun to drive around in a new town," Murphy says. "He's older than us, he's a classic, he's got a story." It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, "Which Way To The Club." The question is quickly resolved by "Take A Trip" as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip - the kind of imagined space or chamber within one's self capable of "shifting a fraction of who you are," says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be "as free as we could be," adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: "What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room." Next is "Shy Guy," a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: "We are in junior high, we're on the dance floor, what's going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?" The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. "Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too," Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one - something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, "It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission." "Angelo" and "Ooo La La" deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean's catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo's dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude "Colors" drifting into "Where Do We Go?", a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space. It all culminates in "Caldwell's Way," a fond farewell to their Bay Area community - "a part of my life that I knew couldn't come back," says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There's the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: "I'd rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars." And the song's namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. "I'm only miles away, maybe I'm just feeling lonely," the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and "Nostalgia" runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

Repress!

Outstanding free jazz session recorded in 1973 in Paris by Chicago outfit BAG.

It was Lester Bowie, trumpeter with the Art Ensemble of Chicago, who suggested that the Black Artists' Group (BAG) should head for Paris. In 1972 several members of BAG took his advice and flew to France for an extended stay. The following year a concert featuring saxophonist Oliver Lake, trumpeters Baikida Carroll and Floyd LeFlore, drummer Charles Bobo Shaw and trombonist Joseph Bowie (Lester's younger brother) was recorded and subsequently issued as In Paris, Aries 1973, a strictly limited edition LP on the group's own label.

Since the formation of Black Artists' Group in 1968, the home of this multidisciplinary arts collective had been St Louis, Missouri, the city where the Bowie brothers had grown up. It was there that Lester Bowie had started to investigate the expanding horizons of jazz before moving, in 1966, to Chicago where he joined the recently established Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians (AACM). His close friend Oliver Lake visited Bowie, attended AACM concerts and meetings and was inspired not only by their artistic vision and integrity but also by their efficient organisation. In Chicago musicians were making things happen for themselves, taking control of their own destinies and giving shape to their lives as creative artists.

In June 1969, the Art Ensemble of Chicago had taken their music to France. During the preceding decade Paris had established a reputation for audiences that were unusually well-informed and open-minded, receptive to the uncompromising music of black American innovators such as Cecil Taylor, Ornette Coleman, Albert Ayler and Sun Ra. The city that had nurtured not only Cubism and Surrealism, but also Jean-Luc Godard and contemporary cinema's Nouvelle Vague was well prepared for the sonic collage forms and stylistic dislocations of the Art Ensemble. During that same month violinist Leroy Jenkins, trumpeter Leo Smith and saxophonist Anthony Braxton also arrived in Paris, three further emissaries from the AACM.

The adventure of collective improvisation resonated with the Parisian zeitgeist. Enthusiastic audiences attended their concerts and coverage in the media. In Paris, Aries 1973 offers an isolated and fascinating glimpse into that phase of the group's existence. The album is dedicated to the memory of Kada Kayan, a bassist who had hoped to make the trip from St Louis to France but, tragically, had grown ill and died. His absence adds special poignancy to the sound of the bass when it appears on this recording, played by Baikida Carroll. Listeners keen to hear Kayan himself in the company of Lake, Bowie, Shaw, LeFlore and Carroll should seek out Red, Black and Green by the 10-piece Solidarity Unit, Inc. That album, recorded on 18th September 1970 and dedicated to Jimi Hendrix, who died on that day, features an earlier version of Shaw's composition 'Something to Play On.'

In Paris, Aries 1973 reveals BAG's musical affinities with the Art Ensemble of Chicago. Both groups preserved an independently minded approach to the notion of free jazz and a carefully filtered awareness of pan-African musical practices, while their creative interest in space, mobile structure, chance occurrences and simultaneity also suggests parallels with the concerns of leading experimental composers working at that time. These performances in Paris of Shaw's 'Something to Play On' and Lake's 'Re-Cre-A-Tion,' plus two collective compositions/improvisations, display the dedication to structural fluency and sensitivity to coloration that accompanied BAG's unorthodox group dynamics and their unconventional instrumental combinations. In this case the musicians embrace congas, log drums, marimbas, woodblocks, cowbells and gongs. This is not a showcase for solos, but a shape-shifting and multi-centred statement of togetherness, quest and discovery. Removed from BAG's original multidisciplinary context the music still exudes an exhilarating spirit of collaborative exploration and shared excitement.

First release on this Milan-based reissue label fueled by a passionate interest for visionary genre-crossing music,

A young, free-reined musician with a rich music vocabulary and avant-garde sensibilities pours his heart out on cutting-edge musical equipment. Recorded in Northern Italy in 1989 by Michele Tadini, this release effortlessly fuses ambient and library overtones with the influence of early digital electronic music, underlined by an ethereal atmosphere eerily reminiscent of the best soundtracks by John Carpenter. Seemingly unplaceable in time and space, it is both Italian and world-spanning.

Tape
"And we"re coming out of dreams / And we"re coming back to dreams" is the first thing you hear Bill say as you remake your acquaintance on YTILAER. Right out the gate, he"s standing in two places at once: meeting up with old friends behind the scenes and encountering them on the record, finding himself coming round the bend and then again as someone else on down the line. Like the character actor he played on Gold Record, writing stories about other people, telling jokes about everyone, and in singing them, becoming the songs. "You do what you"ve got to do / To see the picture" Bill"s got a full band sound going on this one, with him and Matt Kinsey on guitars, Emmett Kelly on bass and backing vocals, Sarah Ann Phillips on B3, piano and backing vocals and Jim White on drums. Jim and Matt sing on one song, too, and some other singers come in, too. Bill plays some synth here and there, and Carl Smith drifts in and out of the picture with his contra alto clarinet, as do Mike St. Clair and Derek Phelps on brass. Somehow in between them all, you might think you hear the distant sound of a steel guitar. And you might - but you might not, too. In this company, Bill continues his journey, tunneling underneath the weathered exterior of what seems to be and into the more nuanced life everything takes on in the dark. With Bill"s voice making the extraordinary leaps and bounds that measure the lives of the songs, the band follow him through passages that seem to invent themselves; other times playing with deeply soulful grooves and/or desperate intensity, as these moments come and go. There"s nothing they can"t do. "I wrote this song in five and forever / I"m writing it right now" Bill sings on "Natural Information" - an admission of the everyday alchemy he"s forever trafficking in. Time passes, triangulating the encounters that went into any one record with two out of any three others, all of it made flesh, new constitution, in our stereo speakers. If every album is its own life, it stands to reason that they"re invariably passing in the night. Cascading images flowing from the stream of consciousness. Turning like pages from the journal, unspeakably personal, then suddenly become tall tales, like a book pulled off the shelf, completely unbound. Headlines flow through. Mirror images, mirthful ones. Bill"s lyrics strain at the lines on the page, not content to separate the printing of the fact from the myth or be confined to ink on paper. They want to fly free. And they do. "I realize now that dreams are real" On YTILAER"s inner sleeve, alongside his lyrics, Bill celebrates the "exhilaration and dread" of cover artist Paul Ryan"s paintings. Paul"s another one met up with again down the road, his indelible cover imagery on Apocalypse and Dream River now an axis of meaning in the Callahanian world - and in the bright colors found in these new images, a parallel to Bill"s recognitions here. "A breath of exquisite air as we come up from drowning", sounds like the desired hope for those hearing the songs of YTILAER.

‘’Ace Todmorden label makes a significant discovery on its own doorstep: a superb cache of ‘loner folk’ songs recorded in the early-70s by Hebden Bridge’s answer to Nick Drake’’ UNCUT PLAYLIST

"This is music that can confidently hold its own with pioneers such as Davey Graham, Michael Chapman, Bert Jansch and Jackson C Frank, as influenced by jazz, blues and steel guitar as any of the old songbook classics from ancient Albion.” Benjamin Myers
"Defiantly Northern and out of this world" Folk Radio

Anti-counter culture loner folk from a teenage attic in the heart of rural Northern hippiedom.
Today the valley town of Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire is world-renowned as something of a bohemian backwater. It wasn’t like this back in the late 1960s and the early 1970s, when a disparate selection of radicals, drop-outs, heads, musicians, artists and writers started to be attracted to the Calder Valley. Local lad and future poet laureate Ted Hughes called the area “the fouled nest of industrialisation”.
Over time, those seeds of radicalism and collectivism ensured Hebden Bridge evolved into a place where people could be themselves and all shades of individual oddness not only tolerated but actively encouraged. But back at the turn of the dreary 1970s it remained a monochrome world defined by its unforgiving surrounding landscapes, where the old gritstone over-dwellings were stained with soot and rain lashed down for weeks.
It was here that Trevor Beales, who was born in 1953, grew up, and from where he drew musical and lyrical inspiration.
Perhaps it was this dual nationality heritage, unusual in the valley’s largely white working class population at the time, that gave the teenager Trevor Beale’s music an outsider’s perspective. The discovery of Bob Dylan, Django Reinhardt, The Byrds and James Taylor at a young age, lead to him picking up a guitar at the age of ten, and he was soon writing his own originals and performing them at local (though often remote) folk clubs and pubs.
Recorded in the attic of the family home at Ivy Bank in Charlestown on the verdant wooded slopes at the edge of Hebden Bridge between 1971 and 1974, these early recordings are collected here for the first time and mark Trevor Beales long-overdue solo debut.
In these songs is a suffer-no-fools sense of realism that is defiantly Northern, yet also expresses a worldliness that belies Beales’ young years, whilst also showcasing an inherent storyteller’s ear for narrative. Here is a postcard from the past at that crucial musical period of transition, when the idealistic exponents of the 1960s emerged into an austere new decade that was to be shaped by strikes, rising unemployment and economic upheaval.
Two aspects of this music make it remarkable: Beales’ natural ability showcases a sophisticated guitar-picking style that was leagues ahead of many of his (older, more recognised) contemporaries. This is music that can confidently hold its own with pioneers such as Davey Graham, Michael Chapman, Dave Evans, Bert Jansch and Jackson C Frank, as influenced by jazz, blues and steel guitar as any of the old songbook classics from ancient Albion.
Secondly, his lyrics are a far cry from either the naïve bedroom scribblings of a teenager who has barely left his upland home, nor do they fall foul of the type of lazy cliches and sub-Tolkien imagery that was still in abundance in the early 1970s. Most remarkably the earliest songs here were laid down less than a year after he left school (an unearthed report written by his headteacher on July 3rd 1970 noted he had “a considerable ability and interest in music”, though his education ended abruptly when he simply walked out of a science lesson one sunny day while at sixth form, never to return).
Trevor’s music is grounded in reality – his reality. ‘Then I’ll Take You Home’, for example, considers the Guru Marajai, who encouraged his acolytes to give over their worldly possessions, yet who drove a Rolls Royce and lived like a playboy. Unsurprisingly, this latest in a long line of spiritual charlatans found several followers in Hebden Bridge, and Beales casts a disdainful eye over the growing popularity for such false prophets.
With its ancient narratives and propensity for myth-making, folk has certainly produced it’s fair share of cult figures who have enjoyed rediscovery or career resurgence and with this debut compilation of home recordings, rescued from cassette tapes, Trevor Beales might just be the latest addition. Certainly he was the real deal.
Crucially, Beales' music is never jaded or cynical, but instead possesses a poet’s ear, a strong sense of self and some sound critical faculties. And much of it recorded at an age when he could neither vote nor order a pint of heavy.
Trevor Beales died suddenly and unexpectedly on March 29th 1987, aged 33. He left behind Christine and their young child Lydia.

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

BLUE & BONE VINYL

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

Rupert Marnie’s debut album “Evocative Rhythm” is a singular object to begin with. Split over two parts, each one working as an individual piece and under seemingly endless configurations when played together on a pair of record players, “Evocative Rhythm” is an elusive piece of musical abstraction you will play a crucial role in shaping, fashioning it as you dabble with it - certainly curious and cautious at first, then manipulating its raw clay more firmly as you envision it with a clearer idea of where to go with it. Or is that just a mirage?
Fruit of geographical meanderings through Hamburg’s tentacular architecture, Rupert Marnie’s maiden full-length effort reflects that of the city’s tonal, rhythmic and harmonic structures in a uniquely vibrant way: dancy and not, ethereal and full-bodied, oneiric and anchored. From field recordings garnered here and there across town, then either truncated, morphed, stretched out beyond recognition via a wide palette of technical means (granular synthesis, time-stretching, use of resonators, delay, reverb, pitch-shifting…), Marnie weaves a narrative that bridges the gap continually betwixt non-formulaic beatless meditation and proper club-focused functionality, plus the countless possible creations that will emerge when combining both sides of the disc to form your own story out the battery of elements at reach.
Evocative Rhythm” is much more than the sum of its parts. A mirage of ambient, techno, electro, whatever style and labels that could be stuck all over it, yet never managing to say a true word of it.

More in tune now with the rhythm of the sun and moon, Xylouris White (Dirty Jim White and George Xylouris) speak to each other across great distances with the intuition and fellowship that can only be found over years in each other"s company. With fewer distractions, appreciative of the freedom to play with new sounds and spaces, they carve The Forest In Me from unbelievably thin air. Once you set the needle down on the record and hear for yourself, the intimacies and impressionism, abstraction and unfiltered emotion found in The Forest In Me, you may wonder what was the mood of the room in which this music came to be. George, Jim and long-time producer (and secret third member) Guy Picciotto share their thoughts: Guy Picciotto: "In late 2019, we had begun taking steps to working on new material. In a haphazard fashion, Jim and I started tracking drums in my basement, cutting them up into shapes with no set landing in mind. Some of it we sent to Giorgos in Crete - he responded with his lyra and his lute. Without intention we had initiated a process that would soon become more ruthlessly mandated by the world events that separated and isolated us to three corners of the globe in the following year." Giorgos Xylouris: "While we were recording, I noticed that the music had a certain solitude about it, both from the title and from inside. That led us to find more music from within that we had not yet discovered." Jim White: "The idea emerged, naturally nourished and nourishing a record with none of our usual angles and themes, no verbal language, no angst nor sudden dynamics, a more subtle structure. And we found The Forest In Me." The first revelation from The Forest In Me is "Latin White", in which Jim"s jaunty pattern sets the stage for George"s Cretan lyra and lute figurations, giving this short dance piece the feel of a welcome hoedown around the campfire, warding off the encroaching darkness of an emptied world. The repetitions, gathered to induce joy, have a glassy-eyed mechanical drive to them; their dervish-istic seeking betrays any suggestion of balm.

Antwerp synthesist David Edren describes his latest solo collection in conceptual terms: a harmony of space and time, elements and environments, perception and impermanence. Conceived in the morass of 2020, he began envisioning a widescreen suite of electronic compositions connected to the hidden rhythms of what surrounds and affects us.

The 12 tracks of Relativiteit Van de Omgeving trace a chain of miniature terrariums, from misty meadows and moonlit gardens to cosmic vistas of asteroid showers. It’s music both subtle and symphonic, attuned to the sweeping planetary clockwork of water and wind, birds and insects, seeds scattered in soil forever being reborn: “skating the thin ice of ideas, like a heroic water strider.”

Amelie Tobien neues Album 'Monument' - Achterbahnfahrt zwischen Schwermut und Leichtigkeit.

Die Indie Folk Newcomerin Amelie Tobien veröffentlicht ihr 2. Album 'Monument'. Aus Tumult und Hoffnungsschimmern der vergangenen Monate steigen die zehn Titel wie ein Phönix aus der Asche. 'Monument' ist ein Gesamtwerk welches den Titel 'Album' mit Würde trägt. Mit Feinsinn kuratiert, bietet es eine Berg- und Talfahrt zwischen Schwermut und Leichtigkeit. In 'Fall into my Arms' findet man Trost, zu 'Intoxicated' tanzt man elektrisiert, bei 'Friday' legt man zum Morgenkaffee die Füße auf den Tisch.

Last year's Big Time brought Angel Olsen to a deeper, truer sense of self than ever before. Borne from the twin stars of grief and love, the album delivered beautiful sense of certainty, the sure-footed sound of an artist fully, finally at home with herself. But within that wisdom comes the realization that there is no finish line, no destination or static end point to life while you're living it, and Forever Means collects songs from the Big Time sessions that hold this common theme. They are, in Olsen's words, "in search of something else." "I was somewhere traveling," says Olsen, "stopped for a few days and wandering the city, and I was thinking `what does `forever' really mean? What are the things I'm seeking in friendship or love, and how can `forever' be attainable if we're always changing?'" Sitting with the reality of that entropy, Olsen realized "maybe the secret to ongoing love is to embrace change as part of love itself, that forever must have something to do with playing, looking, constantly searching things out for yourself, never letting yourself think you're finished learning or exploring." `Forever'", says Olsen, "remains curious while trying also to be kind and honest." All this packs into the four precious songs that comprise Forever Means, songs from Olsen's roads traveled and the ones ahead. "Nothing's free / like breaking free" Olsen sings, comfortable with the costs of her clarity, her heart and voice fixed on the present, the future, the not-yet-known and the beautifully unknowable

Last year's Big Time brought Angel Olsen to a deeper, truer sense of self than ever before. Borne from the twin stars of grief and love, the album delivered beautiful sense of certainty, the sure-footed sound of an artist fully, finally at home with herself. But within that wisdom comes the realization that there is no finish line, no destination or static end point to life while you're living it, and Forever Means collects songs from the Big Time sessions that hold this common theme. They are, in Olsen's words, "in search of something else." "I was somewhere traveling," says Olsen, "stopped for a few days and wandering the city, and I was thinking `what does `forever' really mean? What are the things I'm seeking in friendship or love, and how can `forever' be attainable if we're always changing?'" Sitting with the reality of that entropy, Olsen realized "maybe the secret to ongoing love is to embrace change as part of love itself, that forever must have something to do with playing, looking, constantly searching things out for yourself, never letting yourself think you're finished learning or exploring." `Forever'", says Olsen, "remains curious while trying also to be kind and honest." All this packs into the four precious songs that comprise Forever Means, songs from Olsen's roads traveled and the ones ahead. "Nothing's free / like breaking free" Olsen sings, comfortable with the costs of her clarity, her heart and voice fixed on the present, the future, the not-yet-known and the beautifully unknowable

Spawning from the Manchester music scene in 2008 and now sucking in members from all over the UK, the Riot Jazz Brass Band is a nine-piece genre-mashing, foot stomping party behemoth bringing the love buzz to ears and feet all over the world

New album RIOT JAZZ MAKES PEOPLE HAPPY is the culmination of a 15- year mission to spread joy and get people moving. With three trumpets, three trombones, sousaphone and drums bringing the noise and MC Chunky conducting the chaos, the result is a gleeful cacophony encompassing jazz,hip hop, drum 'n' bass, trap, grime and more.

The intoxicating sound and spirit of the Riot Jazz Brass Band, as well as its deep commitment to exploring all sorts of musical genre, has seen it tapped to collaborate with a variety of top artists and play at festivals across Europe.

One of the most established festival bands on the circuit with appearances at Glastonbury (West Holt Stage), Womad (Big Top), Jazz Sous Les Pommier (France) to Soundwave (Croatia) and everything in between. Recent UK tour last April/May all across the country.

Clear Vinyl

French composer Lucie Antunes is broadening her sonic horizons with second album “Carnaval”. Following the resounding critical success of 2019’s “Sergei”, the Perpignan-born, classically-trained drummer and percussionist releases an ebullient, electronically-oriented followup that is designed for the dancefloor. Antunes unites the pop world with the avant-garde, with a crossover appeal that traverses genres and borders with ease. “Carnaval” also sees Léonie Pernet come on board as producer, who brings frisson to these eleven tracks whilst helping to augment the grooves. Using and manipulating the human voice for the first time, Antunes was inspired in part by the American composer Meredith Monk, to use her voice as percussive instrument, conveying meaning with nonverbal phrases and phonemes. ‘Carnaval’ is more coquettish, curious and creative than anything she’s yet done, imbuing the listener with the cerebral mischief of Laurie Anderson on ‘It’s Amazing’—an opening track which more than fulfills its titular promise.