Cerca:sensu pieces

Somewhere between krautrock, noise rock, decaying psychedelia, and pagan proto-punk, Dééfait makes music like one performs a ritual: in trance, on repeat, and without a safety net. From the chaotic arteries of Mexico City to the basement venues of the Paris suburbs, Dééfait sculpts noise rock in apnea. Their self-titled debut EP is a noise rite: a wall of guitars, incantatory percussion, and possessed voices. With Dééfait, sound twists, repeats, stretches, until exhaustion and ecstasy. Formed in 2023, Dééfait brings together the Valero brothers (Lucas on guitar / Pablo, ex-Pays P, on drums), Enir Da (bass - Temir Alcy, Dali Muru & the Polyphonic Swarm), Grégoire Couvert (guitar), and Riki Lara, a Mexican-born vocalist and performer whose lyrics _ chanted, whispered, shouted _ alternate in three languages: English, Spanish, and French. Active on the Paris underground scene since 2024 (La Mécanique Ondulatoire, Le Cirque Électrique, Nouveaux Sauvages_), Dééfait imposes a ritual tension, physical, almost hallucinatory. No choruses to hum along to, no comforting melodies _ just a dense sonic flow that seeps and vibrates. This debut EP, set for release in December 2025 on Ici, d'ailleurs (Zëro, Matt Elliott, Bruit Noir_), lines up six long tracks resembling pagan litanies. Six extended pieces forming a possessed monologue, as if a camera had been slipped inside a burning body. Everything pants. Everything overflows. From We Love Each Other So Much That We Won't Belong To Any Species Anymore, love exceeds expected forms and becomes an organic pact, a ritual of species departure: "Cut me like you want, in bloom your fire," "We scratch consanguinity / We don't belong to any species anymore." It quickly suggests a call to ecstasy, to trance. The EP as a whole navigates unstable zones where desire, sacrifice, and alienation entwine like serpents on acid. Molokh 8 chants an offering to a carnivorous deity, between severed tongue and chemical body. In Bondbondbond, voices entangle, seek each other in a delirious, sensual chiaroscuro where pleasure derails into compulsion. It's a dogma-free ceremony, a game of inverted masks. Alether _ a live-explosive track and perhaps the most powerful of this first project _ shatters frameworks: convulsive dancing, possessed rhythms drowned by waves of guitar. Finally, Ferreri, cook for us closes the EP as a dark farce: a deviant homage to Italian filmmaker Marco Ferreri, the track chews and regurgitates words as if digesting an overfed world. Recorded in the chaos of DIY and mixed as a raw work, the record captures Dééfait's electric discharge in its purest state. The sound is dirty, visceral, possessed. Think Terminal Cheesecake, Boredoms, Nick Cave-era Birthday Party on acid, but also CAN impaled on an autopsy table, or a Giallo under a strobe light_ Yet it emerges as a singular work.

Alien Tropical: the perfect title for the second album by Servicio Al Cliente (Customer Service), the project of Colombian-born, Berlin-resident Juliana Martinez. If you were cannily seduced by the debut self-titled Servicio Al Cliente album, from way back in 2021, the wait for a follow-up has felt long, but Alien Tropical was worth the wait. Indeed, it feels like the perfect way for Michael Mayer’s Imara imprint to introduce itself to the new year: an album full of play and spirit, verve and sparkle, rich with pop spirit and with one eye smartly cocked toward the dancefloor.

That first Servicio Al Cliente album was a smart statement of intent, and a wonderful, unexpected turn from Martinez, who’d already been through plenty: being expelled from private music lessons,
training in law, joining a group named Las Palabras Correctas. 2021’s Servicio Al Cliente landed on the turntables of anyone with discerning radar (Ada included “Romántico” on her Connecting The Dots mix for Kompakt, for example). With Alien Tropical, Martinez works the sensual sway of her music even harder, building six luscious songs that twist chant-like repetitions into hypnotic mantras, each song the perfect confluence of melody and mystery.

When asked about Alien Tropical, Martinez pieces together fragments of memory: winter explorations, long road trips, navigating the highways and the heart. “I had been driving a lot at the time on the highway,” she recalls. “I depended on music I played in the car to manage my emotions and my thoughts on those long drives. Everything felt strange and unfamiliar on the highway, and I realised music was so psychological and my only tool to influence my feelings between highways and new places.”

So, the music becomes the narrative for where the body and the heart wants to go. That might explain the gentle yearning in Alien Tropical, and its eternal hypnotic, its sense of forever forward-motion, as though the music is flickering like the highway strip reflected in the rear-view mirror. But there’s also the skyward movement of the melodies, the way their loveliness lifts these six songs up through the clouds, like the helium balloons on the cover. From the sensual swelt

Shhh. The command to be quiet is not just part of the title of one of the two sprawling compositions on this pioneering album. It's also an apt metaphor for the relaxed hypnotism and spaced-out atmosphere that define In a Silent Way, a record that pushes the boundaries of studio possibilities, artist-producer relationships, and rock-jazz chasms. Recognized as Miles Davis' first full-on fusion effort and part of his "electric" era, the 1969 landmark claims a Who's Who line-up that sends the music into an ethereal stratosphere.

Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed at RTI, this unsurpassed 180g LP edition lifts the veil on the cutting-edge assembly process that created the pair of lengthy suites. Helmed by three electric instruments, the bevelled compositions melt away all preconceived notions of "jazz," ˜rock," and "ambience," following a loose theory Davis dubbed "New Directions."

Few albums are so delicately textured. And on Mobile Fidelity's meticulous reissue, such sulcate elements pour over ink-black backgrounds on a canyon-wide soundstage. In particular, Tony Williams' inventive percussive touch – he causes the cymbals to shimmer as a pieces of silver tend to do when exposed to sunlight – is broadcast with lifelike three-dimensional qualities, the panoramic view extending to Davis' nocturnal trumpet, Wayne Shorter's ribbon-unfurling saxophone, Dave Holland's extrapolative bass, and the mosaic of keys.

If the record's only accomplishment is its introduction of guitarist John McLaughlin to the world, it alone would be enough. Yet In a Silent Way continues to bedazzle, puzzle, and inspire for myriad reasons – not the least of which is the seemingly telepathic communicative methods employed by the group's members. The line-up is great on paper, but, if it's even possible, the octet sounds even better in practice, with the instruments and tonalities conjoining in avant-garde communion like hyper-sensitive tentacles exploring the stippled landscapes of an undiscovered planet.

Diverting from expectation, tubular grooves twist, turn, and spin, sometimes piling atop of each other, always shying away from structure and melody. Ellipsoidal solos provide hesitant guidance, ranging from Chick Corea's Fender Rhodes phrases to Davis' decorative spirals. And as colour is the primary unit of currency on Davis' Sketches of Spain, laid-back episodes, geometric spaces, and quiet sensuality reign here, with the set's maverick reputation attained via musings on solitude rather than explosions of noise.


Controversial for the period, the heavily edited production of In a Silent Way blew open the once-locked doors on what producer's could attempt – and how artists could assist them. Knitted together as one would construct a cross-hatched quilt, songs contain grafts of repeat passages that provide unifying structure and experimental continuity. What a statement.

After Dull Boy Johnny's previous release, a double EP with a tropical A-side and an erotic B-side, this time the three gentlemen are out on the dance floor. After all, the neighbours decided as much.

Unlike the recordings of their previous work that took place abroad, this time they stayed in a steamy attic room in Belgium, where guitarist and producer Jan built a studio. Unable to record at night because of neighbours who did not (yet) appreciate Dull Boy Johnny's music, they dove into Antwerp's nightlife.

The group's previous work took you on a cinematic journey where every musical nuance takes you to a specific setting. Be it an erotic seventies scene, a beach party in the Bahamas, or a blood-curdling chase in the Wild West, Dull Boy Johnny covers it all. Nard Houdmeyers, Rik De Bal and Jan found each other in a shared interest in film genres such as blaxploitation, neo-noir and spaghetti westerns. And therefore also the artists inherent to these genres such as Isaac Hayes, Curtis Mayfield and Ennio Morricone. Dull Boy Johnny's conceptual approach to music can be traced back to this passion for cinema.

For the new EP, however, they traded that cosy movie-watching for turbulent nightlife (the angry neighbours, you know). Besides, it was about time to get their inspiration in the flesh. Dull Boy Johnny immersed himself in the pulses, flashes and swell of downtown Antwerp. Thunder chasing crept under their skin and then into their guitars. In grandfatherly fashion, they then turned to composing, first with just bass, guitar and vocals. In that small lineup and with the sounds of the night still reverberating in their minds, the first pieces of the puzzle were laid out. After that, the sound was opened up and a solid rhythm boost was added. This defined the catchy, up-tempo nature of the upcoming EP that centres on themes of dancing, flirting and partying. Expect rousing riffs, catchy hooks and swinging rhythms. Details were meticulously laid out and bricked into the songs with delicate grouting. The fine polishing of the songs was done with patient finesse and a constant attitude to serve the song. With songs like Suspicion, She Can Groove and Dynamite, it is immediately clear that the gentlemen got their mustard from the club: action, party and spunk! All without losing their typical sensuality.

Despite the different working methods for the third EP, there are a lot of recurring elements that define Johnny's fresh sound. The essence? Catchy high vocals contrasted with a sensual baritone voice, carried by a groovy bass and rhythm section. Around it, the details that give the songs the right atmosphere swirl.

Dull Boy Johnny's music prefers to function as a soundtrack to your own imagination. As you listen, you are invited to wander through the various landscapes of their musical world, regularly giving a nod to the more lustful side of your brain. The songs have already been praised for their compelling melodies and irresistible energy.

With this release, Dull Boy Johnny proves their ability to create timeless music that both touches the soul and moves the body. So surrender to Dull Boy Johnny's punchy grooves and dance the night away. Long live the neighbours!

Überkeine sets the tone of his own record label with four esoteric tracks, designed for the club. An obvious intention to establish a radical style with conceptualized sonorities, is revealed throughout the Ep. The sound materials are elaborate, and go straight to the point. Obsessing over the flow of creativity offered by his modular synthesizer, he delivers a very dense techno and already affirms a well-marked identity. Powerful and textured kicks, intricate synthetic sounds contained in an arrangement reduced to the essential. The tracks come to life as the forthright reflection of the thoughts of the producer. Guillotine Whistle instantly plunges into the unbridled world of the Ep. An ominous atmosphere hovers over our heads as it reveals organic and disconcerting tones. A gentle brutality emanates from this whistling guillotine that awaits to cut you up in two. Leading the way towards Drifting Data, a track inspired directly from Jungle Patterns. Überkeine is humbly trying to render DnB to a techno format. The dense, saturated Bassline sustains the idea of breaking the dancefloor in pieces. A hard hitting, broken beat environment accompanied by heavily filtered synthetic chaos. Third track’s the charm, the B side starts with Mirror Moist. A drop-down, wet and straightforward techno track with a carnal Bassline. As sensual as it gets, this track conveys a kinky loop urging intimacy and blasting heat throughout the club. Last but not least, Shaney’s remix of Mirror Moist. Picking up core elements of the original vibe and translating it into the off-beat techno nightmare it deserved to be. Full-on obscure dancefloor piece of equipment.

Groggy, engrossing new work from Ulla under their newly minted U.e. tag, riffing to the sublime on a set of (mostly) acoustic reveries that tap into the kind of smokey vapours favoured by the likes of Vincent Gallo, Voice Actor, Jonnine.

A new year, label, album and handle for Ulla, a multifaceted artist who has draped our pages with wonder, under numerous aliases and collabs, for almost a decade. On ‘Hometown Girl’ they distill transience and flux into a quiet set of chamber works subtly resembling the room recorded nuance of their ‘Jazz Plates’ side with Perila - here taken a step further into more elusive, low-lit dimensions.

In a mode that’s wistful and melancholic, listening to the album’s dozen discrete pieces feels like leafing thru a journal of hand-written notes, reflecting on the feelings that come with separation from loved ones and displacement from familiarity. Ulla performed and recorded all of the instruments themselves, lending a tangible tactility to layered arrangements of woodwind, keys, strings, drums and voice, lightly speckled with electronics and perfused with open window field recordings.

They locate a crackling frisson of personality in the voice notes and day-dreaminess of their mottled inscapes, gauzily demarcating lines between past and present selves. In that aesthetic and approach we can also hear similarities to Jonnine’s blue-skied ‘Southside Girl’ or crys cole’s poetic sensuality, often leaning into the domestic surreal.

A frayed, opening salutation ‘Good Morning’ signals a delirious half hour in Ulla’s company, variously swaying to the downstroked jazz swing of a ‘Lavender (NF)’ spritzed with clarinet, whilst ‘Froggy Explorer’ stirs the air like Jan Jelinek on a barely-there tip. The Basinski-esque fritz of degraded loops really snags the imagination along with a twinkling nightlight ‘Ball’, as the album opens out into its most fully resolved songs with a closing couplet of disarming wonders ‘Drawing of Me’, and a blurry ‘Mute’ that feels like Ulla 〜almost〜 reveals too much before retreating back into the shadows.

Living in the present is an album built around the work of American minimalist poet, Robert Lax (1915-2000) who is widely praised for his artistic concept of reduction, in which a pause becomes as important as the things said.

The album brings together the sound of Robert Lax reading his poetry, narrative field recordings by Nicolas Humbert and subtle yet imaginative timbres by Carina Khorkhordina (trumpet) and Miki Yui (electronics) who is also behind the final mixing of the album.

Living in the present is drawing from an archive of audio recordings originally made by film maker Nicolas Humbert while shooting a film on Robert Lax entitled Why Should I Buy A Bed When All That I Want Is Sleep?, ( Nicolas Humbert and Werner Penzel, Germany, 1999) The film was made on the Greek island of Patmos where Lax has lived withdrawn for 3 decades.

More than 25 years after the premiere of Why Should I Buy A Bed When All That I Want Is Sleep?, Humbert, Khorkhordina and Yui are revisiting the original audio material and patiently open worlds within worlds, pointing to new harmonic textures and isolating timbres, synchronizing different layers of time and traces of various locations into a new composition in its own right.

In some ways this album feels like an expansion of the work Humbert and Penzel did with Lax across six years, between 1993 and 1999, where they developed a unique intimacy in their textual-visual collaboration. On two long pieces, for each side of the album, “Where do i begin” and “One moment passes, another comes on” respectively – Yui’s electronics and Khorkhordina’s trumpet interweave beautifully with Humbert’s field recordings, in a manner that shadows the reflective reduction of Lax’s poetry. Indeed, it's no surprise that Lax’s poetry draws musicians into its orbit; it offers the curious a welcoming reduction in which only individual words and syllables represent the essence of language.

Lax’s poetry is notable for its qualities of near-stillness and its capacity to pause the reader’s thought, asking them to hold the sensuality of language for an extended, quietly revelatory moment. His readings on this album share a similar cadence, interested in settling with syllables, with single or several words, for an extended time.

Ultimately, Living in the present unfolds with unforced grace and poetics – one moment passes, then another comes on. (Jon Dale)

Underground Pacific is back with a new double vinyl compilation titled ‘The Only Good Wave is a Dead One’ that confirms, once again, its uncompromising taste for bold electronic music, psychedelic textures, and raw, electrified rock ‘n roll. This release brings together a varied group of artists, each of them adding something special to the journey.

The trip begins with “Excursions” by Gregory Moore, a piece that floats into a humid sonic world, between the nostalgic tones of vintage video game soundtracks, the Fourth World atmospheres of Jon Hassell, and the shimmering calm of ’90s Japanese ambient à la Takashi Kokubo.

Next comes Talee, the Rotterdam-based regular of the label, with “Makes Me Wonder”. Here, grunge-soaked vocals meet a tight dark disco groove, pierced by crystalline guitar chords that shimmer at the track’s heart. A song with its soul in the past and its feet in the club.

Label founder Cantor teams up once again with German duo New Hook on “Achtung! Achtung!”, an homage to the eponymous track by Italian producer Black Saagan. Fueled by vintage drum machines, punk-infused vocals, and melodies echoing the krautrock minimalism of Cluster, the track channels pure Cold War disco energy.

On “Scavengers”, Berlin based World Wild Web and Rasp Thorne deliver a pure mix of electro-rock noir – Suicide by way of David Lynch. Picture a never seen before episode of the series where Martin Rev and Alan Vega are playing live at the Roadhouse in Twin Peaks, while Laura Palmer slowly moves her head to the music, with a devilish smile on her face.

All the way from Grenoble to Berlin, H.L.M. deliver a dirty bass-driven anthem called ‘Fronde’. French spoken vocals spitfire over layers of distorted drones and hypnotic rhythms. The result is rough, hypnotic, and brings to mind the grooves of Death in Vegas.

New Hook return, this time solo, with ‘Unity’: a blend of groovy downtempo percussions, melancholic guitar riffs, and their signature brand of spoken word, a style that’s quickly become their sonic fingerprint.

Then it’s the turn of mexican-wave exponents Montessori featuring Vongold on “Ad Libitum”: a techy sunrise piece with soft pads, subtle build-ups, and an ecstatic sense of endlessness. After-party music for vast, open spaces.
Next up are SX2 from Ireland with their ‘Buttons’, offering a rolling tech-house banger laced with desert guitars. Psychedelic FX’s and whispered vocals drenched in delay slow the pace in a breakdown full of tension, preparing the floor to an euphoric release.

A dream from the pandemic era reappears: Cantor’s “Hannett’s Dream”, originally released in 2020 by Modular’s Project’s imprint ‘Nothing Is Real’ together with their own reworked version present also in two very limited vinyl-collector editions released by Underground Pacific. The introspection and hypnotic structure of the original cut here is replaced by a more stripped down arrangement, with a four-to-the-floor groove that is perfectly crafted for peak-time ignition.

Closing out the release is “Carissima” by the man behind iconic label Wonder Stories, Aimes – a Moroder-esque bassline and sensual vocals play on top of a warm groove that suddenly fractures into jazz-tinged, breakbeat mood, in the style of early Warp Records, just in time to get back into its disco-ish swing.

Contrary to what the title of this release might suggest, the wave isn’t dead at all. It’s well alive in the underground, reanimated by labels like Underground Pacific who are always ready to welcome artists who aren’t afraid to crash genres together and, above all, who are driven by the desire to make free-form, inspired pieces of music.

Miki Yui is a musician, artist, and composer, originally from Tokyo, who has been based in Düsseldorf since 1994. Her whose work has long explored multiple forms of media, while documenting liminal zones of perception. On her latest album, As If, Yui creates a subtly connected suite of electronic music, drawn from improvisations and randomised processes that she has engaged with modular synthesis. Deeply poetic in its expression, even at its most minimal, the six pieces on As If have a curious tenor – they are, each of them, intensely sensuous, almost haptic listening experiences, as though the laser focus that Yui displays towards her compositions allows her to engage them as almost physical presences in the world.

One of the keys that unlocks the intimate complexity-in-simplicity of As If was Yui’s encounters with the Amazonian rainforest in Manaus, Brazil in 2018. Finding that the sounds in the rainforest both shadowed and echoed the music she had been making for two decades, she embraced the possibilities of modular synthesis, the sounds of which she discovered “have astonishing similarities to the sounds I experienced in the rainforest.” There is, indeed, something natural about the way these sounds bloom in real time; in their dedicated focus to the subtle development and mutation of several discrete parameters of sound, they grow slowly, gradually, their rhizomic structures suggesting that we are always situated within the middle of sound.

Sometimes, the material here has a kind of febrile energy, as on the ticking, clacking electronics of “Generativ”, a track that seems to rotate in the air in front of the listener, the light reflecting off its multiple surfaces as we catch the intricacies of its micro-patterns. Elsewhere, we slide into a cooled but welcoming environment, like the late-night fire-fly horizon of “Song 4”; there’s also the humid, dripping tropical sunset that’s documented on “Summernight”. It’s a music that’s hard to locate external coordinates for, though there are, perhaps, some parallels with the work of Laurie Spiegel, Eliane Radigue’s Vice Versa, and Pauline Oliveros’s “Roots of the Moment”. But As If is an extraordinary collection of naturally developing, rich studies for slowly mutating, enveloping, elemental electronics.

Hailing from the West side of St. Louis, Missouri, Mikahl Anthony’s sonic roots spread far across the global Alt-Soul / Hip-Hop scene. A highly soughtafter multidisciplinary artist (who has collaborated with the likes of Mick Jenkins, Chance The Rapper, Joey Purp, Smino and more), as well as being a founding member of Chicago’s THEMpeople collective, he now prepares to unveil his masterful full-length debut Muse via R&S Records.

Accompanied by several beautiful, self-directed film pieces, Muse is a record with storytelling at its core. Interspersed with commentary from a range of sources telling their stories to Mikhal, whilst collaboratively analysing their personal experiences, it speaks a candid and honest narrative, which reinforce the heartfelt lyrics within. With the project’s name anchored around a dual meaning acronym (1. Ms. Using sensual energy and 2. Making use of seclusion every day). The record is an audio version of docufilm, that creatively interprets the idea of self-therapy, an internal/interpersonal reflection of life experiences that serendipitously connect to Mikahl’s personal romantic relationships. Mikahl explains: ‘I wanted to use a unique style of songwriting, arrangement and filming with the intention of soundtracking my self-development/maturation process’.

On the project’s lasting impression on the listener, Mikahl elaborates ’The exploration of inner truth and vulnerability is key to the future of good music. I want this project to act as symbolism that highlights the mantra that honest approaches and authenticity still has the most value. I also want people to see how important the use of community is when you can connect them to your subject matter...I'd like my audience to observe and engage in their own self-reflections, approaches by way of listening or interacting with the story.’

Drifting to an elevated state of consciousness, Muse is a deeply intoxicating and engrossing listening experience from front to back. From the sliding, kaleidoscopic shadows of opening track ‘La Flare’, via the trepidation-laced atmosphere of ‘Polyamorous’ and the hazy, reverb drenched saxophone notes of LP closer ‘Eddie Kane’ - Mikahl channels moments of joy and pain, infused with spirit enriching instrumentation and gritty textures.

Visual stimuli play an integral role within Mikahl’s music. His songs represent transparency and openness dipped in funk. Layers of soft velvety vocals emerge from jazz harmonies, trap rhythms, and social commentary sourced from voiceovers/excerpts. His creations are the musical representation of documentary films. His art is imagery embodied.

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“

Vind is 12 pieces written and performed by CTM and produced by Jakob Littauer.

The album consists of cello compositions with few exceptions - a daf enhancing the rhythm, a distant memory of the kora, a pensive flute or folly sounds. The softness of the acoustic instruments is counterplayed by concise compositions and hyperreal productions.

The music presents itself as part spirit, part form; the movement in the moment, repetition, anticipation, what happened and what is to come. It's a sensuous search into stretched out moments, captured and held in one’s hand for a little while. It finds play and devotion, love and light.

Dedicated to Jannis Noya Makrigiannis

sentiment is a meditation of the poignant emotional terrains of loneliness, nostalgia, sentimentality, guilt, and sex. The album"s narrative arc is guided by delicate musical gestures and artistic vulnerability, audaciously synthesizing disparate and unexpected influences. claire rousay is a singular artist, known for challenging conventions in experimental and ambient music forms. rousay masterfully incorporates textural found sounds, sumptuous drones and candid field recordings into music that celebrates the beauty in life"s banalities. Her music is curatorial and granular in detail, deftly shaped into emotionally affecting pieces. rousay"s vocals and guitar take center stage on sentiment. Her intimate, diaristic lyrics contrast with her mechanical-inflected vocal effects, emphasizing a powerful desire for connection, a deep yearning and a lingering sense of separation. The spare guitar playing and laconic tempo both drive the songs and exude a sense of resignation. Her delicate mastery of nuance draws on her explorative musical past that she, with sincerity and admiration, seamlessly interweaves into her adventurous textures and distinctive compositions. "I want to belong to the worlds and communities I look up to. Same as someone using a Fender guitar or dressing like Kurt Cobain. Emulate your heroes," says rousay. The album balances the poetic soul of her influences with a documentarian heart, rousay capturing moments of her life while living alone in houses across the country, learning to play guitar, and reconnecting with pop music. Her innate ability to conjure pure feeling from sound derives from her delightful embrace of pop forms, the vulnerability found in field recordings, minimalistic arrangements and innovative sound choices. sentiment is blissfully, achingly melancholic, and an undeniably sensual listening experience.

Fabulous Soundtracks, the fourth studio album by reclusive Los Angeles musician Jack Name, is an homage to the IRL world and its twisted and varied romance with the worlds of our minds, in a wild collection of "soundtracks'', each a sonic re-construction dedicated to a distinct scene. Both musically and lyrically, this is Name's most adventurous and genre-defying album. Elements of acid, dance, folk, micro-tonal weirdness, horror, sensuality, impressionism, and bursts of rock fuse with Name's most direct yet ethereal lyric writing to date.

Each song with artful intention confuses dream-like experiences and common everyday situations, and vice-versa, sometimes inflicting a frightening energy into the banal, or this in reverse. Offering a "fabulous soundtrack" as the title implies, to dreamlike cinematic scenography including but not limited to; walking alone through a park at night, a woman tiptoeing through a garden, a person wrestling with time and change, lust, grieving a pet, driving alone in the rain, laying in bed with a lover, a bare tree standing in a field, looking through pieces of glass, and inviting the devil into the home (as one does).

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

sentiment is a meditation of the poignant emotional terrains of loneliness, nostalgia, sentimentality, guilt, and sex. The album"s narrative arc is guided by delicate musical gestures and artistic vulnerability, audaciously synthesizing disparate and unexpected influences. claire rousay is a singular artist, known for challenging conventions in experimental and ambient music forms. rousay masterfully incorporates textural found sounds, sumptuous drones and candid field recordings into music that celebrates the beauty in life"s banalities. Her music is curatorial and granular in detail, deftly shaped into emotionally affecting pieces. rousay"s vocals and guitar take center stage on sentiment. Her intimate, diaristic lyrics contrast with her mechanical-inflected vocal effects, emphasizing a powerful desire for connection, a deep yearning and a lingering sense of separation. The spare guitar playing and laconic tempo both drive the songs and exude a sense of resignation. Her delicate mastery of nuance draws on her explorative musical past that she, with sincerity and admiration, seamlessly interweaves into her adventurous textures and distinctive compositions. "I want to belong to the worlds and communities I look up to. Same as someone using a Fender guitar or dressing like Kurt Cobain. Emulate your heroes," says rousay. The album balances the poetic soul of her influences with a documentarian heart, rousay capturing moments of her life while living alone in houses across the country, learning to play guitar, and reconnecting with pop music. Her innate ability to conjure pure feeling from sound derives from her delightful embrace of pop forms, the vulnerability found in field recordings, minimalistic arrangements and innovative sound choices. sentiment is blissfully, achingly melancholic, and an undeniably sensual listening experience.

sentiment is a meditation of the poignant emotional terrains of loneliness, nostalgia, sentimentality, guilt, and sex. The album"s narrative arc is guided by delicate musical gestures and artistic vulnerability, audaciously synthesizing disparate and unexpected influences. claire rousay is a singular artist, known for challenging conventions in experimental and ambient music forms. rousay masterfully incorporates textural found sounds, sumptuous drones and candid field recordings into music that celebrates the beauty in life"s banalities. Her music is curatorial and granular in detail, deftly shaped into emotionally affecting pieces. rousay"s vocals and guitar take center stage on sentiment. Her intimate, diaristic lyrics contrast with her mechanical-inflected vocal effects, emphasizing a powerful desire for connection, a deep yearning and a lingering sense of separation. The spare guitar playing and laconic tempo both drive the songs and exude a sense of resignation. Her delicate mastery of nuance draws on her explorative musical past that she, with sincerity and admiration, seamlessly interweaves into her adventurous textures and distinctive compositions. "I want to belong to the worlds and communities I look up to. Same as someone using a Fender guitar or dressing like Kurt Cobain. Emulate your heroes," says rousay. The album balances the poetic soul of her influences with a documentarian heart, rousay capturing moments of her life while living alone in houses across the country, learning to play guitar, and reconnecting with pop music. Her innate ability to conjure pure feeling from sound derives from her delightful embrace of pop forms, the vulnerability found in field recordings, minimalistic arrangements and innovative sound choices. sentiment is blissfully, achingly melancholic, and an undeniably sensual listening experience.

Jake Muir's latest set of soft-focus, sensual electro-concrète, dissolves X-rated gay sleaze flick soundtracks into a shimmering suite of subdued orchestral flourishes and surreal cosmic psychedelia.

Back in 2020, Muir put together a 90-minute mix for Honey Soundsystem, blending tracks from Kelman Duran, DJ Olive, Daniel Lanois and Terre Thaemlitz with obliquely camp dialog samples from vintage gay porn. The idea was to represent queer sexuality in a looser, more experimental manner, grazing the super-sensory pleasure of the bathhouse experience and the illicit joy of cruising without getting too self-serious while doing it. The mix was so popular that Muir followed it up with a weightless sequel two years later, and began developing the concept into a proper album, using more samples of music and dialogue, eventually performing the piece at the esteemed GRM as part of their FOCUS #4 concerts alongside work by Eliane Radigue, Folke Rabe and Chris Watson.

Bathhouse Blues is split into two side-long pieces that wash and ripple with nervous tension and discreet salaciousness. Opening with a familiar theatre sting, there are echoes here of kosmische and experimental electronics on 'Cruisin’ 87', fashioned into puddles of syrupy, back-room ambience. Occasionally we hear lascivious words thru the fog, men mumbling to each other before sex. "That's beautiful," a voice mutters over a dusky cricket chirp on 'Pipe Dream'. "It is," another replies.

Muir's sonic treatment is suitably explicit, like a 1950s Hollywood jump-cut to a train going into a tunnel; he takes the whole-body, mutual release of queer sex and interprets it with heady gestures, peppering jazzy rhythmic frostings into basins of skewered drone and gurgling synths. His sound is coloured by the pleasure of physical touch, a mussy flux of high frequency scrapes and caresses juxtaposed with woozy, dubbed-out fondles and thrusts. Who said the GRM was buttoned up?

Jazz Hands is Bob James' third outing for evosound, following in the
wake of 2018's Espresso and 2022's Feel Like Makin' LIVE
Produced by the pianist with his manager Sonny Abelardo, the ten- track album
was mostly recorded during the months of the Covid pandemic and featured
James in a number of different musical settings. It also features a stellar cameo
from the ex- Gnarls Barkley singer CeeLo Green on the sensuous title track and
includes production input from the legendary hip- hop turntablist DJ Jazzy Jeff,
who rose to fame as half of the hit-making '80s/'90s rap duo, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the
Fresh Prince, early samplers of James' music. Blending cool jazz tropes with
funky dance floor grooves, blues- tinged ballads, cinematic mood pieces, and
sensuous slow jams, Jazz Hands is the Missouri pianist's most eclectic album of
his long career. Simultaneously classic and contemporary, it's Bob James at his
majestic, ground-breaking, and timeless best.
The album will be available on 180g Solid Blue vinyl, black vinyl LP, SACD- Hybrid
Stereo and MQA-CD on the 15th September 2023.

Jazz Hands is Bob James' third outing for evosound, following in the
wake of 2018's Espresso and 2022's Feel Like Makin' LIVE
Produced by the pianist with his manager Sonny Abelardo, the ten- track album
was mostly recorded during the months of the Covid pandemic and featured
James in a number of different musical settings. It also features a stellar cameo
from the ex- Gnarls Barkley singer CeeLo Green on the sensuous title track and
includes production input from the legendary hip- hop turntablist DJ Jazzy Jeff,
who rose to fame as half of the hit-making '80s/'90s rap duo, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the
Fresh Prince, early samplers of James' music. Blending cool jazz tropes with
funky dance floor grooves, blues- tinged ballads, cinematic mood pieces, and
sensuous slow jams, Jazz Hands is the Missouri pianist's most eclectic album of
his long career. Simultaneously classic and contemporary, it's Bob James at his
majestic, ground-breaking, and timeless best.
The album will be available on 180g Solid Blue vinyl, black vinyl LP, SACD- Hybrid
Stereo and MQA-CD on the 15th September 2023.