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2x7"
Not so long ago Marlena Shaw was a forgotten figure. The talented vocalist had made several LPs for respected labels such as Cadet and Blue Note, and she'd performed regularly throughout the '60s and '70s. But she hardly had what you might call diva status. Falling into the unfortunate category that slips uneasily between soul and jazz, she was accepted - but not especially admired - by aficionados of either genre. Then came the '90s, and an open-minded enthusiasm for soul and jazz - and more importantly - everything in between - soon changed that. Marlena Shaw became an icon, and the diva status soon blossomed amongst her new-found soul-jazz fans.

Respect is a word that means much to any singer. The artist who stands up in the bright lights before an audience that has handed over their hard-earned cash has only their physical presence and naked voice to rely on. There is no hiding when you're on stage, you're the focus of attention and everybody is gawping at you. The singer yearns to communicate and entertain, and in return not only asks for appreciation and acceptance, but respect. To this end Marlena Shaw has endured decades of singing in the shadows, and she has only recently finally found her niche.

On Disc One we have 'California Soul', probably the most enduring and well-known of her many songs, but just a few seconds listening will tell you that it is much more than that. It's already a classic amongst those who have already seen the light and have danced and swayed to its timeless swing. Upon hearing it all lovers of soul, jazz – or any other kind of good music - will feel an aural glow as warm as the Californian sun. The song 'Liberation Conversation' on the flip was only ever available on her highly revered 1969 LP 'The Spice of Life'. This is where the 'Blues ain't nothing but a good woman gone bad' launches into an irresistible, relentless uptempo funk groove.

Disc Two showcases 'Wade in the Water', an ancient song rumoured to have been developed and popularised by slaves in the American south. The message is to pass on the notion that by fleeing in a bid for freedom through streams and rivers, the scent that bloodhounds use to follow their victims will be obscured. Marlena's version has long been a favourite dancefloor filler since its 45-only release back in 1966.

'Woman of the Ghetto' is one of her best-known songs and ends the set on the other side. The opening number from 'The Spice of Life', it's since been recognised for the classic it is, and as such has been afforded anthemic status. We release the original 45 version here, as used to promote the LP back in the day.

This special 2x7" product from Jazzman is dedicated to the memory of Marlena Shaw, b. 22 September 1939, d. 19 January 2024.

‘Landmass’ Turtle’s first artist album since 2017’s ‘Human’. To be released on 24 March 2023, it is his third official album having also released the acclaimed ‘Who Knows’ EP in 2013.

‘Landmass’ is a beautiful body of work that flows naturally as one piece of music and is inspired by the sparse surroundings of Jon’s studio in Argyll, Scotland, an area he moved to to try and escape the noise of the city and a move that has directly impacted on his creative process.

Jon Cooper… “Since I started producing music I have never gone into a track with any preconceived ideas, I let the music develop in its own way so my direct surroundings have always played a huge part in how it sounds and the hustle of the city was something I felt I needed to get away from. This was a cathartic experience in making it - it's a real outpouring of love for the Scottish countryside and the beauty I’m lucky enough to live in and see every day!”

Jon’s musical journey is one of experimentation and passion. A regular of the electronic scene in Glasgow in the late 90's/early 2000’s, he started to experiment with DJing and music production more for his mates entertainment than with any aspiration of a career as one of the most understated electronic artists Scotland has produced.

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.

Red Vinyl

If the Chateau Marmont could sing. This would be it. Loren Kramar's voice vibrates with the shameless hum of a room after a celebrity exits Ecstatic aspiration. Doubt. Proximity. Desire. The album "Glovemaker" is about the skins we craft to be seen by the world, and Loren reminds us that we are all in drag. All exposed. No matter what gloves we slip on. "I'm a slut for all my dreams", Loren Kramar sings with Patti Smith brashness, "I'm a whore for them, I've got more of them". Loren's lyrics move like tinsel, shimmering bravely, then just as quickly, curling, fragile under the spotlight. Loren has always been obsessed with fame. Not with famous people, but with the electricity that perverts attention - the crushing desire to be truly seen. And all of Loren, and this obsession, is in this album. He grew up in the Valley, forced to hide his Barbies from his father, so the closet was a gorgeous Spanish ranch house on a gilded cul-de-sac crawling with celebrities. Naturally this gay boy wanted to be a child star so his mother secretly shuttled him to tap and jazz and figure skating lessons. "I've got hands and feet to put in the concrete", Loren croons, in "Hollywood Blvd", a song which clangs with brawny bravado. But "Gay Angels" reminds us that Loren's infatuation with stardom is inextricably linked with his queerness and his own desire to live outside of fear. To be famous is to be out. To be known. To be himself. "Glovemaker has become a kind of code for art making itself. A glove as a covering or mask that follows the contours of the life beneath it. As a song and a symbol, this is an album about studying and tracing a life - and then sharing what's there," Loren says. And his desire to share truth feels urgent. To listen to Loren is to understand there is no choice; the songs must tear through the air right now. This very second. "I see myself tearing and splitting and becoming a trampoline", he belts in "No Man," breaking our hearts right alongside his. Part poet, part theatrical diva, Loren loops together the tragedy of breathing on this planet, because like Eartha Kitt or Cat Stevens, Loren is at his core - an incredible story teller. This whole album is a shrine, a mantle atop a blazing fire of life, spread with the memorabilia of Loren; all of the pain and lust dazzling on unabashed view. This is a songwriter's album. Loren's lyrics are all his, and you feel it with every bright, Maraschino-cherry-like word that falls from his lips. "Like a lover, You scream and I shatter, I hit like a hammer" Loren sings. And we get to feel what Loren feels We live in his brain, riding his genre bending emotions, on a wave of modern pop. And the songs lift, they are anthems of belief, "Hollywood Blvd", "I'm a Slut", "Euphemism", "Gay Angels", are all odes to triumphing over the corroding powers of fear and doubt. And on this ride, Loren's voice is the guard rail, ever eager to stretch and transform, belting, talk-singing, multiplying, keeping us safe. "Glovemaker" slaps and soars. The album is an ecstatic overture to love and loneliness, to dreams and promises, to everything Los Angeles dangles. Buckle up. Loren knows how to craft space, how to move us through darkened bars, strobing arenas, beige carpeted bungalows and yellow lit highways. "How do you like LA?" Loren asks. I hope you love it.

Chasing dopamine in free fall through a burning world. Looks that make you want to go swimming, even though you know you're going to drown. Where is my value? Who do I want to be? And who do I definitely not want to be?



Mental health, body positivity, queerness, sexualized violence and self-determination: Elena Rud sings about these things, loud and wild. With a voice that sometimes seems on the verge of breaking and then hangs deep in the ear canal again. As raspy as after a handful of cigarettes. So distinctive that you will recognize them again and again from a big bunch of newcomer bands.



Because the songs go through the marrow and bone. Under the skin or into the heart. Maybe left in and right out, but it's good in between. Because you feel that you're no longer quite so alone with yourself and this shitty world.

Mental Health, Body Positivity, Queerness, sexualisierte Gewalt und Selbstbestimmung: Elena Rud singt von diesen Dingen, laut und wild. Mit einer Stimme, die mal kurz vorm Wegbrechen scheint und dann wieder ganz tief im Gehörgang hängt. So kratzig wie nach einer Handvoll Selbstgedrehten. So markant, dass man sie aus einem großen Haufen Newcomer-Bands immer und immer wieder erkennen wird.
Mittlerweile hat Elena ein Rudel aus vier Jungs dazu gewonnen. Ein Rudel, das seiner Frontfrau nicht nur den Rücken stärkt, sondern sich auch gegen die toxischen Ideale wehrt, an denen sie selbst gemessen werden - für mehr Schwäche, Unsicherheit und GlitzerMakeup statt Dominanz, Unterdrückung und Aggression. Auch in Sachen Sound. Die fünf Münchner:innen klingen ehrlich, tanzbar und wild. Nach Indie-Rock und Punk. Oder nach NDW

New Heaven, INTER ARMA’s latest album, is a compelling testament to perseverance, top to bottom. Its thicket of ever-dense layers of doom, death, and black metal occasionally let bits of light slip in, fleeting reminders to keep going amid the tumult. New Heaven marks a sharp turn for the band, showcasing some of the most extreme and angular songwriting INTER ARMA has ever laid bare. Known for their cinematic take on sludgy, extremely cavernous, and borderline psychedelic Metal, the Richmond band broadens their dynamics by seesawing between piledriving momentum and swirling oblivion. New Heaven crushers and conquers, and illustrates what INTER ARMA can truly be. Take the title track, with its hair-raising lead riff stemming from drummer/songwriter TJ Childers’ challenge to himself to write a nonsensically dissonant part that he ended up loving. The song spirals upward into a punishing Death-Metal march, Meanwhile, vocalist Mike Paparo’s stentorian bellows the bludgeon, above an impossibly complicated web of riffs and rhythms. From the get go, New Heaven and the opening title track eschews any restraint - INTER ARMA is completely unchained. Paparo’s keen and empathetic lyrics about innocent victims of war, addiction, and social apathy affirm that feeling, as a survivor grimaces at the carnage behind him and presses ahead best he can. “You stared into the brutish jaws of strife’s heartless device,” he growls into a chthonic blitz during “The Children the Bombs Overlooked,” a late-album powerhouse. “And you turned your back to hell.” That forward march out of madness is New Heaven in an armor-plated nutshell. Though this is indeed another INTER ARMA triumph, it is not a triumphant album, meant to offer some glib or naïve assurance that everything will be fine. What evidence is there for that, really, either on a record where friends are forced into submission, addiction, suicide, or retreat to a world where suffering remains the lingua franca? No, INTER ARMA and New Heaven are too realistic and experienced for that. This is, instead, a record about enduring brambles and curses and lasting long enough to make something profound, honest, and even affirming about it all every now and again—exactly as INTER ARMA has on New Heaven. FFO: Amenra, Neurosis, Full of Hell, Cult of Luna, Yob, Primitive Man, Thou, Ulcerate, Mastodon, The Body, Panopticon

Dettinger’s Intershop and Oasis have long been held, by many fans of ambient and electronic music, to be some of the finest albums in their field. Produced by the mysterious Olaf Dettinger, about whom not much is publicly known, they were some of the earliest full-lengths released by the then-nascent Kompakt, and in many ways, they both articulated and defined the sound that would come to be known as Pop Ambient, while also existing, somehow, to the leftfield of any clearly recognisable genre.

Beautiful, sui generis works, it is a rare pleasure to see them being reissued on vinyl for a new generation of listeners to embrace. Originally released on CD only in 1999, Intershop was Kompakt’s first artist full-length. The music here simmers and broods, with opulent banks of tone marking out territory for rhythms that seem to be built from the clacking detritus of technology – hisses, thunks, knocks. Bass is deployed carefully, each drop a dubbed-out depth charge; drones spin and spiral, warping and weaving between the beats.

Oasis, released in 2000, refined the palette that Dettinger had explored on its predecessor. A blurred crusade of ambient texturology, its unassuming patterns, and subtle, incremental dynamics, admit to real beauty, and a kind of abstract sensuality that you don’t often experience with music that is, perhaps, similarly tooled, but not as poetic. Through seemingly simple gestures – whether lushly expansive repetitions, hyper-acute tremolo tones, or ear-tickling rhythms – it builds complex emotional resonance. It’s no surprise to discover Oasis is held in high esteem by artists like Panda Bear of Animal Collective, who once said of Dettinger, “For us, he was the dude.”

There is, of course, other music to know Dettinger by, too – his three excellent EPs for Kompakt, Blond (1998), Puma and Totentanz (1999), the latter of which, Michael Mayer once argued, “invented dubstep.” There is also a small, yet graceful run of compilation contributions, many of which can be found on Kompakt’s Total and Pop Ambient series. All this music has plenty to recommend it, sharing a clarity of purpose, and a rare, human warmth and depth. But Intershop and Oasis are the releases that distil Dettinger’s singular vision, and allow him, should he wish, to claim his place as a modern master of ambient and electronic music.

Dettingers Intershop und Oasis werden von vielen Fans von Ambient und elektronischer Musik seit langem als einige der besten Alben in diesem Bereich angesehen. Produziert von dem mysteriösen Olaf Dettinger, über den nicht viel bekannt ist, gehörten sie zu den ersten Alben, die von der damals aufstrebenden Plattenfirma Kompakt veröffentlicht wurden. In vielerlei Hinsicht formulierten und definierten sie den Sound, der später als Pop-Ambient bekannt werden sollte, während sie gleichzeitig irgendwie links von jedem klar erkennbaren Genre existierten.

Es ist eine seltene Freude zu sehen, dass diese wunderschönen Werke auf Vinyl wiederveröffentlicht werden, um sie einer neuen Generation von Hörern zugänglich zu machen. Ursprünglich wurde Intershop 1999 nur auf CD veröffentlicht und war Kompakts erstes komplettes Künstleralbum. Die Musik hier brodelt und brütet, mit opulenten Klangbänken, die das Territorium für Rhythmen abstecken, die aus dem klappernden Gerümpel der Technik gebaut zu sein scheinen – Zischen, Klopfen, Schaben. Der Bass wird sorgfältig eingesetzt, jeder Drop ist eine synchronisierte Tiefenladung; Drones drehen und winden sich spiralförmig und verflechten sich zwischen den Beats.

Oasis, das im Jahr 2000 erschien, verfeinerte die Palette, die Dettinger auf seinem Vorgänger erkundet hatte. Ein verschwommener Kreuzzug der Ambient-Texturologie, dessen unaufdringliche Muster und subtile, schrittweise Dynamik echte Schönheit und eine Art abstrakter Sinnlichkeit zulassen, die man nicht oft bei Musik erlebt, die vielleicht ähnlich ausgestattet, aber nicht so poetisch ist. Durch scheinbar einfache Gesten – seien es üppig ausladende Wiederholungen, hyperakute Tremolotöne oder ohrenbetäubende Rhythmen – baut sie eine komplexe emotionale Resonanz auf. Es ist keine Überraschung, dass Oasis von Künstlern wie Panda Bear von Animal Collective hoch geschätzt wird, der einmal über Dettinger sagte: “Für uns war er DER Typ”.

Es gibt natürlich auch noch andere Musik, die Dettinger bekannt macht – seine drei ausgezeichneten EPs für Kompakt, Blond (1998), Puma und Totentanz (1999), von denen letztere, wie Michael Mayer einmal kühn behauptete, “den Dubstep erfand”. Es gibt auch eine kleine, aber feine Reihe von Compilation-Beiträgen, von denen viele auf Kompakts Total- und Pop-Ambient-Serien zu finden sind. All diese Musik ist sehr empfehlenswert und zeichnet sich durch eine klare Zielsetzung und eine seltene, menschliche Wärme und Tiefe aus. Aber Intershop und Oasis sind die Veröffentlichungen, die Dettingers einzigartige Vision destillieren und es ihm ermöglichen, seinen Platz als moderner Meister der Ambient- und elektronischen Musik zu behaupten, sollte er dies wünschen.

Dettinger’s Intershop and Oasis have long been held, by many fans of ambient and electronic music, to be some of the finest albums in their field. Produced by the mysterious Olaf Dettinger, about whom not much is publicly known, they were some of the earliest full-lengths released by the then-nascent Kompakt, and in many ways, they both articulated and defined the sound that would come to be known as Pop Ambient, while also existing, somehow, to the leftfield of any clearly recognisable genre.

Beautiful, sui generis works, it is a rare pleasure to see them being reissued on vinyl for a new generation of listeners to embrace. Originally released on CD only in 1999, Intershop was Kompakt’s first artist full-length. The music here simmers and broods, with opulent banks of tone marking out territory for rhythms that seem to be built from the clacking detritus of technology – hisses, thunks, knocks. Bass is deployed carefully, each drop a dubbed-out depth charge; drones spin and spiral, warping and weaving between the beats.

Oasis, released in 2000, refined the palette that Dettinger had explored on its predecessor. A blurred crusade of ambient texturology, its unassuming patterns, and subtle, incremental dynamics, admit to real beauty, and a kind of abstract sensuality that you don’t often experience with music that is, perhaps, similarly tooled, but not as poetic. Through seemingly simple gestures – whether lushly expansive repetitions, hyper-acute tremolo tones, or ear-tickling rhythms – it builds complex emotional resonance. It’s no surprise to discover Oasis is held in high esteem by artists like Panda Bear of Animal Collective, who once said of Dettinger, “For us, he was the dude.”

There is, of course, other music to know Dettinger by, too – his three excellent EPs for Kompakt, Blond (1998), Puma and Totentanz (1999), the latter of which, Michael Mayer once argued, “invented dubstep.” There is also a small, yet graceful run of compilation contributions, many of which can be found on Kompakt’s Total and Pop Ambient series. All this music has plenty to recommend it, sharing a clarity of purpose, and a rare, human warmth and depth. But Intershop and Oasis are the releases that distil Dettinger’s singular vision, and allow him, should he wish, to claim his place as a modern master of ambient and electronic music.
Dettingers Intershop und Oasis werden von vielen Fans von Ambient und elektronischer Musik seit langem als einige der besten Alben in diesem Bereich angesehen. Produziert von dem mysteriösen Olaf Dettinger, über den nicht viel bekannt ist, gehörten sie zu den ersten Alben, die von der damals aufstrebenden Plattenfirma Kompakt veröffentlicht wurden. In vielerlei Hinsicht formulierten und definierten sie den Sound, der später als Pop-Ambient bekannt werden sollte, während sie gleichzeitig irgendwie links von jedem klar erkennbaren Genre existierten.

Es ist eine seltene Freude zu sehen, dass diese wunderschönen Werke auf Vinyl wiederveröffentlicht werden, um sie einer neuen Generation von Hörern zugänglich zu machen. Ursprünglich wurde Intershop 1999 nur auf CD veröffentlicht und war Kompakts erstes komplettes Künstleralbum. Die Musik hier brodelt und brütet, mit opulenten Klangbänken, die das Territorium für Rhythmen abstecken, die aus dem klappernden Gerümpel der Technik gebaut zu sein scheinen – Zischen, Klopfen, Schaben. Der Bass wird sorgfältig eingesetzt, jeder Drop ist eine synchronisierte Tiefenladung; Drones drehen und winden sich spiralförmig und verflechten sich zwischen den Beats.

Oasis, das im Jahr 2000 erschien, verfeinerte die Palette, die Dettinger auf seinem Vorgänger erkundet hatte. Ein verschwommener Kreuzzug der Ambient-Texturologie, dessen unaufdringliche Muster und subtile, schrittweise Dynamik echte Schönheit und eine Art abstrakter Sinnlichkeit zulassen, die man nicht oft bei Musik erlebt, die vielleicht ähnlich ausgestattet, aber nicht so poetisch ist. Durch scheinbar einfache Gesten – seien es üppig ausladende Wiederholungen, hyperakute Tremolotöne oder ohrenbetäubende Rhythmen – baut sie eine komplexe emotionale Resonanz auf. Es ist keine Überraschung, dass Oasis von Künstlern wie Panda Bear von Animal Collective hoch geschätzt wird, der einmal über Dettinger sagte: “Für uns war er DER Typ”.

Es gibt natürlich auch noch andere Musik, die Dettinger bekannt macht – seine drei ausgezeichneten EPs für Kompakt, Blond (1998), Puma und Totentanz (1999), von denen letztere, wie Michael Mayer einmal kühn behauptete, “den Dubstep erfand”. Es gibt auch eine kleine, aber feine Reihe von Compilation-Beiträgen, von denen viele auf Kompakts Total- und Pop-Ambient-Serien zu finden sind. All diese Musik ist sehr empfehlenswert und zeichnet sich durch eine klare Zielsetzung und eine seltene, menschliche Wärme und Tiefe aus. Aber Intershop und Oasis sind die Veröffentlichungen, die Dettingers einzigartige Vision destillieren und es ihm ermöglichen, seinen Platz als moderner Meister der Ambient- und elektronischen Musik zu behaupten, sollte er dies wünschen.

On his sophomore EP 'Nightlife Stories', (produced by Chris Robinson), Billy Tibbals offers a beacon of hope for a new generation of rock fans-- an audience he believes is enjoying a resurgence

Tibbals' music brings glam rock to 2024 within a once-again-burgeoning LA rock scene. He explains, "I wanted to make something a little more aggressive. It's called 'Nightlife Stories,' and so it's about seedy creatures of the night." The result is six tracks that are bold, stone cold, and ready to mold the minds of the American youth. With his mop of curls and brazen, spangled outfits, Tibbals is a return to old- school glamor with eccentric hooks and dramatic swings that demand to be heard

1998 was a fertile year defined by juggernaut projects from Black Star, Lauren Hill, Outkast, and others, all of whom synced experimentation with foundational tenets that made the 1990s ferociously groundbreaking.


Out of Oakland, California, a collective known as Hieroglyphics were positioning away from industry control, to helm their own assets in manners more suited to their own marketing self-vision. While artists have certainly went solo prior, this came at a critical juncture for the crew during a spiraling and newfound Internet world. Born out of this independent spirit was the crew’s first official studio album 3rd Eye Vision.


The album spans twenty-two songs, all featuring beats by Domino who manned the lion’s share of production. A-Plus, Opio, Del, Casual, and Phesto also contributed beats. MCs each had their own song, short interludes highlighting their individuality through short verses, a clear espirit de corps statement.


Even among standouts like “Oakland Blackouts” or “At The Helm,” perhaps the most celebrated song off the release is “You Never Knew,” a track that propelled 3rd Eye Vision to #88 on the Billboard Top 200, not an entirely easy feat as a new label competing with the late ‘90s’ abundant onslaught of classic material.


In celebration of 20 years of 3EV, Fat Beats and Hiero Imperium are proud to present this CD/Vinyl reissue in deluxe packaging, expansive liner notes and the full original album tracks and a bonus for the very first time in one package.

This release follows Chantal's earlier musical odysseys, including Let Your Hands be My Guide (2013), The Sparkle In Our Flaws (2015), Bounce Back (2017), Puwawau (2019) and Saturday Moon (2021). Each album, a testament to her artistic evolution, has resonated with audiences worldwide.

Silently Held comes to life with the collaborative brilliance of accomplished musicians. Bill Frisell with his beautiful understanding of Chantal’s flow of melody, Eric Thielemans who brings his percussive mastery to the mix. Jozef Dumoulin playing the piano with immense calmth. Thomas Morgan's who seems to be picking magic out of the skies with his bass and Shahzad Ismaily's golden touch as a multi-instrumentalist contribute to the album's rich texture. Colin Stetson, renowned for his avant-garde saxophone work but also his work for Bon Iver, lends his unique voice, creating moments of emotive intensity.

And Joachim Badenhorst, Niels Van Heertum and Kurt Van Herck finishing the album with their beautiful brass. Guided by the skilled production of Philip Weinrobe (known from his work for Dirty Projectors and Adrienne Lenker) the album's sonic landscape is carefully crafted. Most of the songs recorded in one take. One breath to keep close to the realness and rawness Chantal was looking for. Meanwhile, the experienced touch of mixing engineer Phill Brown (Talk Talk, Mark Hollis,..) who has been very present on Chantal’s journey for years.

In the quiet embrace of the music, Chantal unveils a raw and authentic portrayal of vulnerability, where every flaw and feeling is held close. The album becomes a sanctuary, inviting listeners to join in this silent communion with the intricacies of the human experience. Through each note and lyric, Chantal Acda crafts a space where imperfections are not only acknowledged but celebrated, creating a profound and intimate connection between the artist and the audience. "Silently Held" stands as a testament to the beauty found in the closeness of our flaws and feelings, inviting us to embrace them with grace and authenticity.

Silently Held by Chantal Acda & The Atlantic Drifters, released 3 May 2024, includes the following tracks: "Above ", "The Friends Parade ", "Taking Part ", "The Barn " and more.

Available on ltd edition Eco mix vinyl, with only 250 copies pressed. Includes download.

We’re delighted to bring you the latest full length from London psych heads The Confederate Dead.

‘As an artist, one of the most extraordinary gifts is the ability to convert life's experiences and emotions into music, transmuting pain into beauty, tragedy into art. With our latest album, 'Flamingo', we embarked on this creative journey. The inception of this project dates back to 2022, a year marked by a period of separation that was both challenging and transformative. 'Flamingo' is not just an album; it is a voyage through the labyrinth of heartache and healing. Each track resonates with the overarching theme of the album, yet each presents a unique interpretation of it. Every song echoes the same meaning, the same core narrative, but from a different emotional lens.’ Butchy Davy (The Confederate Dead)

‘“Flamingo by London’s psychedelic indie band The Confederate Dead flows by like a strange dream. Each song flows differently, shifting the dreamy images into another direction. Thoughts of The Black Angels, the Fuzz Club catalogue and genres from shoegaze to garage pop and back to good old psych rock fight a confusing fight for my attention. In the end it appears that this struggle will never truly be decided. The Confederate Dead is their own beast, and a great one at that.

Theirs is a sound that oozes confidence and grandeur, presented like a big name would. and there is no reason why The Confederate Dead would not dream big, they have the chops, the songs, the looks, the only thing standing in the way of moving up might be their dark brooding undertones and their refusal to do a cool thing twice.

Because the most powerful thing about Flamingo is its versatility. The album is like a box of assorted chocolates, the one you can’t get enough of because each song is delicious and sweet in its own way. So, indulge yourself, have a chocolate, or ten…before you know it the album is over, and you’ll press play again.’

@weirdoshrineblog 2023.

Irresistible Brazilian blues reggae from the heart of the Amazon rainforest. A psychedelic guarana induced trip and ode to the fading indigenous cultures and shifting hegemony in Brazil. This one-off release by Manaus native Natacha Fink was originally written in 1986 as the lead track on NOSSA MUSICA - a compilation celebrating regional music from the Amazon. Emerging out of the dictatorship, Natacha and her fellow artists rejected the aesthetic standards driven by internal colonialism and sought out new ways to express themselves away from the styles of the dominant Rio-São Paulo axis. What surfaced was a melodic blend of genres, with Natacha’s haunting vocals and playful lyrics gliding over an arrangement of guitars and double bass. Vocal backing is led by Torrinho, well known for his layered composition style, whose song ‘Porto de Lenha’ is recognised throughout Amazonas as an unofficial anthem. Hidden within the Amazon, Pirarublue lies in that wonderful space between innocence and honesty. Proudly exploring cultural and ecological spaces through a refreshing, ghostly infectious groove. For fans of Gal Costa, Elis Regina, Chico César, Jorge Ben Jor and Joni Mitchell.

Accompanying Natacha’s beguiling single is the field recording “Unseen Songlines” by artist and academic Nimalan Yoganathan. The composition immerses the listener in the soundscapes of Mamori Lake, a remote village inside the Brazilian Amazon. Nimalan explores the ambiguous perception of sounds emanating from the dense rainforest and deep beneath the Amazon River, where we hear the sounds but cannot see their sources: an acousmatic concert performed by the rainforest itself. Processed field recordings of birds and frogs, as well as underwater hydrophone recordings of dolphins and fish subtly weave throughout electroacoustic textures and beats. The listener is invited to hone in on the musical subtleties hidden throughout the environment. The compositional methods employed in this piece draw on the concepts of sonic rupture, presence, absence and memory found in the dub music tradition.

This limited edition 7” by Sticky Buttons puts these two outlying works together for a unique listening experience, combining the human and more-than-human experience of life at the heart of Brazil. Both uniquely Amazonian but with a universal appeal.

The Morning Papers Have Given Us the Vapours was made with the black watch bandmates and producers/engineers Rob Campanella (Brian Jonestown Massacre, The Tyde, The Warlocks) and Andy Creighton (The World Record, Parson Red Heads). Ben Eshbach, formerly of The Sugarplastic, arranged the strings. Kesha Rose guests on lead vocals on the second single, Oh Do Shut Up. And the great Lindsay Murray once again lends her beautiful backing vox to a number of tracks.

the black watch songwriter/frontman John Andrew Fredrick wrote the ten songs on this, his Los Angeles-based band's latest album, entirely unselfconsciously, with no set goal in mind other than to revel in the joy of songwriting, and, eventually, the luxury of recording his music with his more-than-accomplished band. The Morning Papers Have Given Us the Vapours, produced separately and together by Rob Campanella and Andy Creighton evinces the black watch's often stunning ability to, as Andy Gill once observed in The Independent, "find chaos in the calm, melody in the miasma."

Fredrick, who has also published four comedic novels and a book on the early films of Wes Anderson, jovially describes himself as "a recovering Anglophile--one who'll never, one hopes, fully recover." From his home studio in the Angeleno Heights district of L.A., he waxes eloquent about how being branded, as it were, as a too-ardent lover of British music, film, and literature has left him as bemused as has the tag "prolific" that is often affixed to reviews of his work.

"I just don't think it's all that interesting to note that we've made so many records. Looked at one way, it's a sort of deflection from talking about the timbre if not the quality of the individual songs. Though I know it can be intimidating for fans who've just discovered us--a sort of 'My goodness, where do I start with this band that has put out LPs since 1988?' I get it. I do. I picture someone standing at our slot at a bin at a record store becoming overwhelmed at the prospect of picking the 'wrong' title. And then walking away and not picking up anything from us!" Fredrick laughs. "What can you do indeed?"

He started his career as a songwriter as a result of an American Football injury that left him bedridden in the home he grew up in in Santa Barbara, California. The year The Beatles immortal double-album came out at Christmastime he broke his leg so badly that he had to be home-schooled for an entire year. His parents, ex-teachers themselves, refused to let him watch telly for more than an hour a day. He propped a Silvertone acoustic on top of the massive cast that screamed all the way up to his thigh from his toes, and began to write little melodies and lyrics that, doubtless, did not in the least mask his love for the Fabs, The White Album in especial.

And he read and read and read--histories of the American Revolution and Civil War, mostly, and as many Dickens novels as his mum and dad could bring him. "That year," Fredrick observes, "surely made me who I am today. Proof that intensely unfortunate-seeming events can prove most fortunate. As a sport-mad kid, it made me absolutely mental that I was exiled from the activities I loved most and the school teams I played on. What a blessing undisguised that injury was! Not that I'd like to experience anything like it ever again, mind you."

Fredrick can even recall a few of the melodies he wrote as boy ("Utterly trite, of course, completely jejune"); and in a way, The Morning Papers Have Given Us the Vapours showcases a kind of get-back-to-where-you-once-belonged sensibility. "I didn't intend, this time, to make an album per se. I write both songs and fiction in order to find out what happens, to find out what I might want to say," he notes. "Rob often asks me what a particular song is about; and I often reply that I either don't know, or would prefer that others say. Same thing goes for when people ask me where they should start with our discography. I never know what to say. Our LP from 2011, Led Zeppelin Five (remastered in 2021 for its tenth anniversary), has been our best seller, I think--but that may be because some stoned Zepheads thought their gods had perhaps put out a record they'd missed!"

Despite being deadly serious about music-making, TBW's been known to either whimsically or perversely title their albums. Examples: Jiggery-Pokery (an allusion to John Lennon assessing George Martin's productions), After the Gold Room (a pun on the Neil Young classic plus a local eastside L.A. watering hole), Sugarplum Fairy, Sugarplum Fairy (echoing Lennon's famous count-off to A Day in the Life), Fromthing Somethat (a garbled spoonerism/lyric while doing a vocal), Brilliant Failures (the 2020 release that, along with Fromthing Somethat, was named Album of the Year by venerable indie rock magazine The Big Takeover), and the aforementioned LZ5.

For the new LP, the band recruited longtime friends and allies Ben Eshbach (the Emmy-Award-winning frontman of The Sugarplastic) and Lindsay Murray (Gretchens Wheel) to compose and arrange strings and sing heaps of lovely backing vocals, respectively.

And the result? A collection of songs that Fredrick, in his quite-but-not-quite self-deprecatory way, might call another set of brilliant failures. "Every song, every LP we do, is a failure of sorts--no matter how powerful or beautiful or pleasing-to-us it turns out," John concludes. "I have often said that my aim is to write songs as good as anything on The Beatles... and I will never achieve my goal. And thus I'll have to keep at it, keep trying. And chin-chin to that!"

And now your attention's been brought to a band (or you've heard of them or heard a track or two down the years) that has been pegged by The L.A. Weekly as "a national treasure" as well as "the most criminally-neglected indie pop group imaginable."

So here's to the prospect of that ostensible neglect becoming as much of a thing of the past as John Andrew Fredrick's year-long stint in bed.

EIGHTEEN AND I LIKE IT… (MISC. COLOURED VINYL))if you survived trips 1-17 with one tiny speck of psychedelic sunshine intact, Brown Acid The 18th Trip will be your coming of age nightmare. Vintage underground '70s hard rock, coming at you from bizarre angles, local scene wasteland America when everybody was out for themselves and the drugs went bleak. The guitars kill, the attitude is twisted, even the sex is headed down the wrong road. Real people, no compromise, pure and potent. Get stoked, take the 18th Trip and know that the artists will get paid for pulverizing your soul! "People… are you ready?, 'cause the music now is getting so heavy"… Back Jack out of St. Louis, Missouri in 1974 launch our trip with "Bridge Waters Dynamite". It's an invocation to rock flashing on Mark Farner whooping up a Grand Funk crowd, then getting to the point quickly with berserk guitar assaults. Heavy riff with power chord stalks beneath as you take their advice… get loose and blow up the past. Smokin' Buku Band dropped my jaw with the audacious track "Hot Love" coming on like some fractured fever dream burlesque of Led Zep moves out of Hollywood in 1980. Swooping elongated vocals above, a total Zep chord move at the end of each verse. Writer/producer Steve Shauger aka Shag Stevens gets a brilliantly messed up sound quality here, the ideal polar opposite of slick. The extended guitar break is an epitome of serendipitously crude virtuosity, simply outrageous! Coming at you from way outta left field is "Moby Shark" by Atlantis, a hilarious and strange Baltimore pre-punk vibed dose of D.I.Y. meets hard rock. Lon Talbot is the mastermind, the flip side of this impossibly rare Mekon Records label single was featured in an obscure 1978 B-movie titled "The Alien Factor". Follow the lyrics closely, when the ominous jaws jaws jaws start coming after you you you… the song's big hook is so preposterously catchy the shark attack feels like good news. Inquiring minds should know that the band formerly known as Atlantis can now be found by searching for the Lon Talbot Group! Tommy Stuart and the Rubberband's "Peeking Through Your Window" from 1970 opens with a spooky organ riff, slips into a gushy fuzz/organ groove akin to "Mustache In Your Face” by Pretty. The singer creates downright creepy vibes, a stalker peeking through the girl's mind like a peeping Tom at the window up to no good. The lyrics evoke a disturbing scenario. Tommy Stuart also made a strange LP titled Hound Dog Man in 1977 and some terrific rare garage singles under the names Magnificent Seven and The Omen & Their Love in the mid '60s. Nothing better than an angry two chord guitar attack with cowbell to set the stage for this rant about getting "Ripped Off" by love. Taken from their rare 1977 LP on Dynamite Records, Chicago Triangle was Marvey Esparza, Dave Guereca, Jose 'Tarr' Perez and Robert Aguilera. They unleash such strong brain-scrubbing wah wah frenzy in the guitar break here that it seems to perversely mock it's own intensity! Like I said, Brown Acid the 18th Trip comes at you from all kinds of uncanny angles. Damnation of Adam Blessing out of Cleveland, Ohio unleashed a stone killer psychedelic hard rock classic "Cookbook" in the late '60s, this track "Nightmare" from 1973 has them cooking again at full power. A different singer, name change to Damnation and then Glory, unleashing a deadly dose of dark progressive heavy rock drama peaking when spooky 'oooo-wa-oooo' background vocals emerge during a bizarre spoken bit. It unfolds like a mini-epic and includes some remarkably brutal guitar and turbulent organ, too. "Swing your sword, all aboard… bid farewell to the dreamer" Dalquist exclaims. Cynical view of human nature, idealism is over, war is coming, it always does. Opens with a cold menacing riff and atmosphere reminiscent of "Synthezoid Heartbreak" by Maya. Mournful despondent vocals ride an insistent churning groove, gnarly guitar break moves into free noise territory. This rare track is from a local various artists benefit album titled Kangaroo Jam issued for the Waco Family Abuse Center in Texas circa 1980. The Pawnbrokers "Realize" is prime proto heavy rock emerging out of psychedelic garage roots in 1968 Fargo, North Dakota. Unusual arrangement, terrific sustain guitar tones like on the first Blue Cheer LP, even a rip on Hendrix "Manic Depression" with unison voice and guitar ascent near the end. They made three 45s and were active from '65 to '69. Hats off to Blake English, Kent Richey, Paul Rogne and Steve Harrison, you nailed it in just a hair over two minutes! As pure and creative as the original psychedelic garage hard rock gets. Parchment Farm from Union, Missouri gigged with the likes of ZZ Top and Foghat back in the day and unleashed the amazing "Songs Of The Dead" in 1971. Primitive riff/chord pattern dosed with some funky prog moves, sky turning black, 'is this heaven or hell' type disoriented confusion… may as well grab your guitar and sing songs to the dead. Robert 'Ace' Williams on bass, Paul Cockrum on guitar, Gary Reed on keys and Micky Waterman on drums, replacing Mike Dulany (R.I.P.) Cool that they use the Blue Cheer misspelling from Vincebus Eruptum for the band name! Ominous organ, thick minimalist fuzz riff, funky psychedelic wah wah flashes and freaky sex combine in one twisted dance titled "Rockin' Chair" by Brothers Of The Ghetto. Out of Chicago in 1975 with some Santana atmospherics and a delicious fuzz wah screamin' guitar break, the groove is highlighted by an off the wall vocal which sounds eerily detached in a subtly sleazy way. Rene Maxwell is the writer of this hard-rock boogie-down hybrid straight out of the twilight zone. It was issued on Ghetto, a subsidiary of the peculiar Kiderian label that released the Creme Soda LP. Now that your head is totally skewered, go Back Jack and play side one again! (Words by Paul Major)

EIGHTEEN AND I LIKE IT… (MISC. COLOURED VINYL))if you survived trips 1-17 with one tiny speck of psychedelic sunshine intact, Brown Acid The 18th Trip will be your coming of age nightmare. Vintage underground '70s hard rock, coming at you from bizarre angles, local scene wasteland America when everybody was out for themselves and the drugs went bleak. The guitars kill, the attitude is twisted, even the sex is headed down the wrong road. Real people, no compromise, pure and potent. Get stoked, take the 18th Trip and know that the artists will get paid for pulverizing your soul! "People… are you ready?, 'cause the music now is getting so heavy"… Back Jack out of St. Louis, Missouri in 1974 launch our trip with "Bridge Waters Dynamite". It's an invocation to rock flashing on Mark Farner whooping up a Grand Funk crowd, then getting to the point quickly with berserk guitar assaults. Heavy riff with power chord stalks beneath as you take their advice… get loose and blow up the past. Smokin' Buku Band dropped my jaw with the audacious track "Hot Love" coming on like some fractured fever dream burlesque of Led Zep moves out of Hollywood in 1980. Swooping elongated vocals above, a total Zep chord move at the end of each verse. Writer/producer Steve Shauger aka Shag Stevens gets a brilliantly messed up sound quality here, the ideal polar opposite of slick. The extended guitar break is an epitome of serendipitously crude virtuosity, simply outrageous! Coming at you from way outta left field is "Moby Shark" by Atlantis, a hilarious and strange Baltimore pre-punk vibed dose of D.I.Y. meets hard rock. Lon Talbot is the mastermind, the flip side of this impossibly rare Mekon Records label single was featured in an obscure 1978 B-movie titled "The Alien Factor". Follow the lyrics closely, when the ominous jaws jaws jaws start coming after you you you… the song's big hook is so preposterously catchy the shark attack feels like good news. Inquiring minds should know that the band formerly known as Atlantis can now be found by searching for the Lon Talbot Group! Tommy Stuart and the Rubberband's "Peeking Through Your Window" from 1970 opens with a spooky organ riff, slips into a gushy fuzz/organ groove akin to "Mustache In Your Face” by Pretty. The singer creates downright creepy vibes, a stalker peeking through the girl's mind like a peeping Tom at the window up to no good. The lyrics evoke a disturbing scenario. Tommy Stuart also made a strange LP titled Hound Dog Man in 1977 and some terrific rare garage singles under the names Magnificent Seven and The Omen & Their Love in the mid '60s. Nothing better than an angry two chord guitar attack with cowbell to set the stage for this rant about getting "Ripped Off" by love. Taken from their rare 1977 LP on Dynamite Records, Chicago Triangle was Marvey Esparza, Dave Guereca, Jose 'Tarr' Perez and Robert Aguilera. They unleash such strong brain-scrubbing wah wah frenzy in the guitar break here that it seems to perversely mock it's own intensity! Like I said, Brown Acid the 18th Trip comes at you from all kinds of uncanny angles. Damnation of Adam Blessing out of Cleveland, Ohio unleashed a stone killer psychedelic hard rock classic "Cookbook" in the late '60s, this track "Nightmare" from 1973 has them cooking again at full power. A different singer, name change to Damnation and then Glory, unleashing a deadly dose of dark progressive heavy rock drama peaking when spooky 'oooo-wa-oooo' background vocals emerge during a bizarre spoken bit. It unfolds like a mini-epic and includes some remarkably brutal guitar and turbulent organ, too. "Swing your sword, all aboard… bid farewell to the dreamer" Dalquist exclaims. Cynical view of human nature, idealism is over, war is coming, it always does. Opens with a cold menacing riff and atmosphere reminiscent of "Synthezoid Heartbreak" by Maya. Mournful despondent vocals ride an insistent churning groove, gnarly guitar break moves into free noise territory. This rare track is from a local various artists benefit album titled Kangaroo Jam issued for the Waco Family Abuse Center in Texas circa 1980. The Pawnbrokers "Realize" is prime proto heavy rock emerging out of psychedelic garage roots in 1968 Fargo, North Dakota. Unusual arrangement, terrific sustain guitar tones like on the first Blue Cheer LP, even a rip on Hendrix "Manic Depression" with unison voice and guitar ascent near the end. They made three 45s and were active from '65 to '69. Hats off to Blake English, Kent Richey, Paul Rogne and Steve Harrison, you nailed it in just a hair over two minutes! As pure and creative as the original psychedelic garage hard rock gets. Parchment Farm from Union, Missouri gigged with the likes of ZZ Top and Foghat back in the day and unleashed the amazing "Songs Of The Dead" in 1971. Primitive riff/chord pattern dosed with some funky prog moves, sky turning black, 'is this heaven or hell' type disoriented confusion… may as well grab your guitar and sing songs to the dead. Robert 'Ace' Williams on bass, Paul Cockrum on guitar, Gary Reed on keys and Micky Waterman on drums, replacing Mike Dulany (R.I.P.) Cool that they use the Blue Cheer misspelling from Vincebus Eruptum for the band name! Ominous organ, thick minimalist fuzz riff, funky psychedelic wah wah flashes and freaky sex combine in one twisted dance titled "Rockin' Chair" by Brothers Of The Ghetto. Out of Chicago in 1975 with some Santana atmospherics and a delicious fuzz wah screamin' guitar break, the groove is highlighted by an off the wall vocal which sounds eerily detached in a subtly sleazy way. Rene Maxwell is the writer of this hard-rock boogie-down hybrid straight out of the twilight zone. It was issued on Ghetto, a subsidiary of the peculiar Kiderian label that released the Creme Soda LP. Now that your head is totally skewered, go Back Jack and play side one again! (Words by Paul Major)

At once a hazy relic and a digital snapshot of the human experience, Your Day Will Come is the debut album from Chanel Beads, arriving April 19 via Jagjaguwar. The remarkable project announces the arrival of New York-based musician Shane Lavers as a new force in experimental music, capturing the many contradictions of modern existence and the strange infiniteness of the digital world. The songs feel like a memory in which you can't distinguish between what actually happened or what was a false reproduction in your mind - although the burning emotion remains intact. Lavers pushed himself to strip his own sense of ego from “Your Day Will Come”. Throughout, Lavers weaves in contributions from his live bandmates, singer-songwriter Maya McGrory (Colle) and experimental instrumentalist Zachary Paul, who offer their own layers of feeling. As McGrory offers a more full-bodied tone and Lavers often sings with his higher-pitched head voice, the two collaborators meet in the middle; it's an intermingling of identities or a subconscious pining for androgyny. In this slippery space, different perspectives merge together, and there's a sense of empathy and humility that arises from the blending of these voices. These days, Chanel Beads live shows see all three performers weaving together in absolute catharsis. This catharsis is pushed to its peak on "Idea June," which sees McGrory taking over lead vocals to project Lavers' lyrics. As McGrory sings, "The waves wash onto my shore," in a voice that's both earnest and digitally processed, it's as though she's speaking as a separate embodiment of Lavers. In under two minutes, the track of clunky acoustic guitar and gutting strings lands somewhere between detachment and kinship. Similar to the off-kilter structure of "Police Scanner," these songs are strangely affecting in their unfinished and liminal forms. Lavers, who is drawn to poor MP3 rips and transitional moments in DJ mixes, knows that these inexact musical artifacts evoke human imperfection. The title of Your Day Will Come could be read as a promise of the arrival of good karma, or it could be a reminder of one's mortality, said out of spite. Yet as Lavers unpacks the haunting feelings of the past that he must release in order to move into his future, he reminds us that grief and hope might be closer than they seem to the naked eye.

At once a hazy relic and a digital snapshot of the human experience, Your Day Will Come is the debut album from Chanel Beads, arriving April 19 via Jagjaguwar. The remarkable project announces the arrival of New York-based musician Shane Lavers as a new force in experimental music, capturing the many contradictions of modern existence and the strange infiniteness of the digital world. The songs feel like a memory in which you can't distinguish between what actually happened or what was a false reproduction in your mind - although the burning emotion remains intact. Lavers pushed himself to strip his own sense of ego from “Your Day Will Come”. Throughout, Lavers weaves in contributions from his live bandmates, singer-songwriter Maya McGrory (Colle) and experimental instrumentalist Zachary Paul, who offer their own layers of feeling. As McGrory offers a more full-bodied tone and Lavers often sings with his higher-pitched head voice, the two collaborators meet in the middle; it's an intermingling of identities or a subconscious pining for androgyny. In this slippery space, different perspectives merge together, and there's a sense of empathy and humility that arises from the blending of these voices. These days, Chanel Beads live shows see all three performers weaving together in absolute catharsis. This catharsis is pushed to its peak on "Idea June," which sees McGrory taking over lead vocals to project Lavers' lyrics. As McGrory sings, "The waves wash onto my shore," in a voice that's both earnest and digitally processed, it's as though she's speaking as a separate embodiment of Lavers. In under two minutes, the track of clunky acoustic guitar and gutting strings lands somewhere between detachment and kinship. Similar to the off-kilter structure of "Police Scanner," these songs are strangely affecting in their unfinished and liminal forms. Lavers, who is drawn to poor MP3 rips and transitional moments in DJ mixes, knows that these inexact musical artifacts evoke human imperfection. The title of Your Day Will Come could be read as a promise of the arrival of good karma, or it could be a reminder of one's mortality, said out of spite. Yet as Lavers unpacks the haunting feelings of the past that he must release in order to move into his future, he reminds us that grief and hope might be closer than they seem to the naked eye.

On the outskirts of Bratislava, in the pulsating shadows of a refinery's burning chimneys, on the plot of a family house, there stood a small shack. Initially, it housed trials in domestic mushroom growing. Later, after a makeshift acoustic touch-up - lining the walls with old cardboard egg cartons - it became a shelter for music. Sensitive, evocative, nostalgic, lo-fi music by a man named Cadillac Face.

Today we would probably use the term 'safe space', but back then it was (in Cadillac's words) kutica, a cubbyhole. He hid there from a world that ached. Here, Cadillac secretly smoked, sang, and composed. And tried not to go crazy from anxiety. He wrote music unlike anything during his time.

Here, he struggled. With sound (unable to adjust it to his liking), with instruments (which he couldn't bring himself to play), with the world (with which, understandably, he was at odds).

Cadillac Face was a man who didn't belong here.

He wrote and sang in English (in a post-socialist and early-capitalist Slovakia, when command of English was no matter of course); he also wrote in Slovak (blogs and diaries, which, due to a stream-of-consciousness and surrealist style, were as incomprehensible as they were immersive and intimate); gave advice to teenagers (to their quasi-banal questions on talking forums about relationships, life and adolescence, where they were often met with ridicule and mockery); he composed electronic and noise music (at a time when no one had a clue what the abbreviation DAW meant).

This Cadillac's compilation album is not aiming to compete with/replicate Noizy Days - a compilation of Cadillac's contributions to the project Noize Konspiracy. Underground compilations circulated through a local proto-social network. Borderline music without rules - open but often inaccessible. There, Cadillac contributed mostly with experimental-electronic compositions. Noizy Days was compiled by Ďuro Ďurček, one of the initiators of Noize Konspiracy. Both Ďuro and Cadillac have been dead for years.

Songs For The Trees is a selection from Cadillac's songwriting. The most intimate of his intimate recordings. Cadillac at his most fragile, brittle, and quiet. The most romantic, the most tormented, the most painful and direct of his songs I know.

Cadillac became an anthropomorphic grotesque tree. Neither broadleaf nor conifer. Or perhaps it's a candle slowly incinerating – bored, sad, playing the guitar. A tragicomedy. Sometimes it kindles what it doesn't mean to, and it can't put itself out. Or can it?

The eagerly awaited debut album from the London-based four-piece * At the forefront of the new generation of Black British guitar music with Big Joanie and Bob Vylan * Supporting Slowdive on their UK tour in February * Singles playlisted by BBC Radio 6 Music, Spotify and others Whitelands are Etienne, Jagun, Vanessa and Michael and they are ostensibly a shoegaze band ever since Etienne stumbled across Slowdive's KEXP session in his recommended videos on YouTube a few years ago. However, they come at the resurgent, Gen Z-soundtracking genre from a refreshingly different angle thanks to their mishmash of musical backgrounds. There's also the fact that their line-up is fully PoC in what is traditionally seen as a predominantly white genre. "There's an underlying narrative that it's OK for white men to be romantic, sensitive, emotional and make dreamy music and, by contrast, young Black men should be making angry music," says Vanessa. "We've all grown up with these stereotypes and therefore I think people are mystified when they see Whitelands." "I consume a lot of media," says Etienne of his wide range of influences. "Videogames, music, news, paintings, manga, animations and film are my go-to, especially anime. There is this drive to want to understand and feel the whole weight of an expression. So, the songs are based on other songs, pictures, aesthetics, 'vibes', an emotion someone else felt. Fundamentally, you are what you eat." As a result of this diet, the lyrics are stunning, dealing with everything from unbalanced relationships and vulnerability to depression, being diagnosed with ADHD and, on the new single 'Tell Me About It' (featuring vocals by Dottie from the band's Sonic Cathedral labelmates deary), trying to navigate love following that diagnosis. The album is bookended by two poetically political songs - 'Setting Sun' and 'Now Here's The Weather' - that deal with imperialism, racism and performative ignorance. "We've experienced tokenism, micro-behaviours, envy and resentment," concludes Vanessa. "So we feel we have to continually prove ourselves. We know we're making a positive impact, but I want Whitelands to really break some barriers."