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The United States vs. Billie Holiday, in which Andra makes her feature-acting debut staring as Billie Holiday, will shed light on the innovative vocalist's embattled years as a target of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics--the unit sought to imprison Holiday on drug charges, a retaliatory action given her dedication to singing highly politicized songs like "Strange Fruit" and her efforts to integrate her audiences. In the upcoming film, directed by Lee Daniels and written by Suzan-Lori Parks, Andra stars alongside Moonlight lead, Trevante Rhodes.

Andra's iteration of the jazz-infused recording adheres to the cool, sultry stylings of Holiday's original. By stepping into her predecessor's persona, Andra brings the past to the present, adopting a vocal approach and musical sensibility that's nothing short of a classic.

The legendary Billie Holiday, one of the greatest jazz musicians of all time, spent much of her career being adored by fans across the globe. Beginning in the 1940's in New York City, the federal government targeted Holiday in a growing effort to escalate and racialize the war on drugs, ultimately aiming to stop her from singing her controversial and heart-wrenching ballad, "Strange Fruit."

Led by Oscar® nominated director Lee Daniels and introducing Grammy® nominated singer-songwriter Andra Day, The United States vs. Billie Holiday unapologetically presents the icon's complicated, irrepressible life. Screenplay writer Suzan-Lori Parks, the first African American woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for Drama, pens this intimate tale of a fierce trailblazer whose defiance through music helped usher in the civil rights movement. NAACP Image Award® Nominee Trevante Rhodes and Emmy® Nominee Natasha Lyonne co-star along with Garrett Hedlund, Miss Lawrence, Rob Morgan, Da'Vine Joy Randolph, Evan Ross, Tyler James Williams, Tone Bell, and Erik LaRay Harvey.

Glenn Astro returns to Tartelet Records with Purple, a four-tracker of minimal slow burners and futuristic dance music, marking the label’s 50th 12-inch release.

Since releasing his second album Homespun in late 2020, Glenn Astro has been quietly channeling his funky instincts towards new production approaches. Purple, a four-piece compilation of mutant future-boogie daubed in Rogers-Nelson hues, comes through with emotional heft. It also marks the 50th 12" release for Tartelet Records.

“Following up on Homespun, I wanted to try out some more dancefloor- oriented tracks again,” says Glenn Astro. “Keeping it simple and practical, while not being too predictable. I incorporated a lot of modular synth bits and experiments, with ‘Flux’ being an almost exclusively modular-based jam.”

Incorporating tricky sound design and fluid structures, Astro’s new lines of enquiry never come at the expense of the groove. From the opening thump of ‘Penduloop’ onwards it’s apparent that his rugged rhythmic kinks are present and correct to hook in the dancers, while the melodic drops later in the track edge in a little melancholic flavour to take the mind somewhere else entirely. On this opening track, the artist explores new territory with his version of early naughties minimal house – a welcome
slow burner.

The EP title track ‘Purple’ slaps with purpose, not least in the Linn-esque drums and melodic bassline, but it’s a positively dreamy piece which skips on crooked beat formations and floats upwards via a multi-timbral tapestry of yearning synth shapes and robotic vocals. On ‘Out Of Office’ Glenn Astro provides a generous dose of electro nostalgia when he amps up the heavy-hearted feeling with aching string pads and electro-informed machine logic. The track becomes alive with its deep un-synced rhythms and dark bass notes, pushing further into the abyss. ‘Flux’, with its tooly
feel, takes the electronic mantra further and sheds light on the source of much of Astro’s new sound palette.

Crucially, even in its techiest moments, an irrepressible humanity shines through across Purple. Glenn Astro’s soul is the binding agent which links his early, sample-heavy house to his more explorative new angles, and it comes through in abundance on this fully-formed release.

COS might not be the first genre defying progressive music group you’ve heard who share both wordless onomatopoeic vocals and a snappy three letter title (complete with philosophical leanings and alchemic penchants) but on listening to this first ever custom Cos compendium you might have just discovered a new favourite!

Perhaps it’s no coincidence that COS share close spiritual, stylistic or social connections to the aforementioned bands, as one of the few long-withstanding single-syllable ensembles to remain utterly idiosyncratic and incomparable within their hyper-focussed and impenetrable creative bubble. But as a 1970s group that effortlessly MIX head-nod prog, synth-driven jazz, cinematic sound-designs, dislocated disco, arkestral operatics and high-brow conceptual anti-pop grooves, it’s easier to remember the name COS than thumb the vast amount of genre-dividers in your local record shop which COS COULD occupy. With the crème de la crème of Belgian jazz/prog/psych/funk within their ranks, their combined idea-to-ability ratio litters the Cos-ography with concepts that aficionados, future fans, collaborators and critics still haven’t began to unravel.

With their earliest roots in the compact jazz group Brussels Art Quintet the group spent their sapling years creating art-school prog under the name Classroom, this flourishing collective, cultivated by multi-instrumentalist mainstay Daniel Schell, would soon shed its leaves, dropping band-members and typographics reducing its moniker to simply COS (a multi-purpose, globally recognised word, with links to Alchemy and philosophy, with a hard phonetic delivery to suit the groups heavier rhythmic approach). In it’s new skin COS also shed all forms of orthodox language to find its true exclusive voice. Fronted, in the conventional sense, by the daughter of author and part-time jazz player Jean De Trazegnies, the bands wordless singer changed her name to Pascale SON, to accentuate the French word for “sound”. Drawing comparisons with sound poets like Polish jazz legend Urszula Dudziak or Hungarian Katalin Ladik, but retaining the crystalline femininity (and funk) of Flora Purim, while effectively sharing an imaginary lyric book of non-words with Damo Suzuki, Magma or a future Liz Fraser... To use the word “unique” would, by COS academic standards, be lazy journalism.

A little over a year ago, Nathan Williams found himself back in San Diego, writing what would eventually become Hideaway, his seventh album as Wavves, in a little shed behind his parents’ house. It was also the place where he made some of his earliest albums, before he became known for his uncanny ability to write songs that sneered at the world while evoking pathos, sympathy, and a deep understanding of how sometimes we’re our own worst enemies, and that can be okay. Williams’ return to his childhood home was not just a symbolic attempt at jumpstarting creativity. It came as a result of a series of major life changes. A decade ago, Williams released King of the Beach on the maverick indie label Fat Possum. The album was a cocky collection of pop punk gems that catapulted him into the public consciousness, eventually prompting a jump from Fat Possum into the major label system, where he released two albums before becoming disillusioned by the lack of creative agency available to him. In 2017, Williams self-released You’re Welcome on his label, Ghost Ramp. Now, Williams has returned to Fat Possum with a barbed collection of anxious anthems that grapple with the looming sense of doom and despair that comes with getting older in an increasingly chaotic world. “He’ll always skew toward the Bart Simpson character,” says Matthew Johnson, founder of Fat Possum. “But that does not mean that he doesn’t have some commentary, and once in awhile, it’s totally spot on.” Across its brief but impactful nine tracks, Hideaway is about what happens when you get old enough to take stock of the world around you and realize that no one is going to save you but yourself, and even that might be a tall order. The album features Williams’ most universal and urgent songs yet. “Honeycomb” lopes along sunnily, as Williams sings affecting lines like “I feel like I’m dying, it’s cool, it’s great, just pretend I’m okay.” His directness is shocking, and proof that Williams is the kind of songwriter who can capture pain and uncertainty with resonant brutal force. “It’s real peaks and valleys with me,” Williams says. “I can be super optimistic and I can feel really good, and then I can hit a skid and it’s like an earthquake hits my life, and everything just falls apart. Some of it is my own doing, of course.” It’s this self awareness that permeates each of Hideaway’s songs, marking them each as mature reckonings with who he is. After realizing the material he’d been working on in the hideaway was starting to take shape, Williams, along with bandmates Stephen Pope and Alex Gates workshopped the songs in a series of now-abandoned studio sessions, before linking up with musician and producer Dave Sitek of TV on the Radio to help fully realize their new songs.

Eamon Harkin, 1/2 of Mister Saturday Night Records and Nowadays in NYC, brings us a balmy 4 track EP, simultaneously full of longing, bliss, and hope. Adeptly oscillating between techno and house, these ear-worm, tastefully catchy tracks will find themselves perfectly at home both on reopened, outdoor summer dance floors as well as on bedroom stereo systems. If you do find yourself on a reopened dance floor, you may end up shedding a joyful tear to one of these.

Limited edition of 300 copies on black vinyl. Mastered by Dietrich Schoenemann. Design by Nick Owen. Photography by Frank Harkin.

I first discovered khroniky – Ukranian folk songs – in the Highlands of Scotland. I was watching a screening of Bajka, a mesmerising documentary made by the filmmaker Lucia Nimcová and sound artist Sholto Dobie. I knew nothing about these ballads beforehand, but I was fascinated by these odd, beautiful songs, especially the easy way in which they mixed misery and levity, where gentle melodies blend with tales of dark violence. The folk songs describe hardship, murder, torture, death in gulags, heavy drinking, outsmarting men, love affairs. But they’re often very funny too – many of the songs make fun of marriage, and there’s an amazing subcategory of khroniky songs called potka (vagina) songs.

The khroniky have never been properly documented because they were considered too crude, or contained lyrics that were problematic, politically. When Ukrainian folk songs have been archived in the past, it’s normally a sanitised, more polite version of the ones that Lucia remembers from her childhood. Lucia grew up on the other side of the Ukrainian border in Slovakia. She is part of the Rusyn (Ruthenian) minority ethnic group found in the borderlands of Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Ukraine and Poland. Rusyn is a centuries-old Slavic language, looked down upon as a poor, uneducated dialect by the neighbouring Ukraine and Slovakia. It was forbidden to talk about Rusyn culture at Nimcova’s primary school, but the khroniky stayed in her memories.

“I remember weddings when I was young,” says Lucia, who now lives in Addis Abeba, Ethiopia. “At the end of the night, when everyone was drunk and the young couple would go around their guests, people would sing in Rusyn. There was singing and dancing, and songs about being in prison or falling in love. I picked up the lyrics and sometimes my mum would make my sister and I sing them for people we met on the train. I was about five or six but the lyrics still come back when I sing to my kids.”

Determined that these rich, nuanced, unique songs shouldn’t be forgotten, she decided to record them. Over two years, Lucia, joined by experimental musician Sholto Dobie, visited Rusyn villages high in the Carpathian mountains to rediscover the songs and make the documentary. It was at the beginning of war breaking out in Ukraine in 2014.

“The Rusyn community is a very closed one,” explains Lucia. “Sometimes we’d have to wait several days to hear someone sing; we had to earn their trust before they shared something very personal to them. We’d stay up ‘til 5am at a wedding, then go straight to a morning baptism, or collect haystacks with the villagers, hoping they’d sing while they were working.”

DILO is named after an important independent Ukrainian daily newspaper that was shut down when the Red Army entered Lviv in 1939. The four long tracks on DILO blur field recordings with song; an unpolished, privileged glimpse into a private world. We hear dogs barking and insects buzzing in the summer heat, then a blast of hurdy gurdy or violin will drift in, or a plaintive song soars softly over the rural background noise, with casually harrowing lyrics about a cuckoo, “lifeless in a world of misery”, as translated in the album’s booklet.

For both Lucia and Sholto, it was important not to tamper too much with what they heard. “When you think about ethnography,” Lucia explains, “you have to have a lot of time, love and respect to document it with sensitivity.”

“The songs all have their own atmosphere and intimacy from the spaces they were recorded in and it was important to maintain these particularities and move with them,” adds Sholto, who now lives in Vilnius, Lithuania. “They guide and sometimes interrupt a journey between interiors – domestic spaces; in kitchens, by the fire – and exteriors; marketplaces, cow sheds. We used contact microphones to record metal bridges and fences, and we spent one afternoon recording a wool processing machine, the details of the rattling and tuning wheels are the ground layer for the third track.”

Lucia took rough notes and diary entries during the recording process, which are now shared in the booklet alongside a selection of lyrics, loosely translated, but revealing the depth and astonishing beauty that sometimes lies in the language of these folk songs.

The feel of the album is intimate, flipping between laughter, where a woman sings about selling her pussy to buy a cow in one track, then shifts to a raw, painful truth; an adult son asks his mother why his dad won’t be back for dinner, as he’s gone to war.

Since Lucia and Sholto began working together in 2014, they have shared the audio recordings on radio and film and shown photos in gallery spaces, making sure these special, smutty, poignant songs don’t get lost. This new record and booklet joins that same continuum, another glorious fruit from the same rare tree.

With his ongoing commitment to like-minded archivist label Finders Keepers Records, industrial music pioneer Steven Stapleton further entrusts us to lift the veil and expose “the right tracks” from his uber-legendary and oft misinterpreted psych/prog/punk peculiarity shopping list known as The Nurse With Wound List.
Following the critically lauded first instalment and it’s exclusively French tracklisting both parties now combine their vinyl-vulturous penchants to bring you the next ‘Strain Crack & Break’ edition which consists of twelve lesser-known German records that played a hugely important part in the initial foundations of the list which began to unfold when Stapleton was just thirteen years old.
From the perspective of a schoolboy Amon Düül (ONE) victim, at the start of a journey that commenced before phrases like kosmische and the xeno-ignant Krautrock tag had become mag hack currency, this compendium is devoid of the tropes that united what many would accurately argue to be the greatest progressive pop bands in Europe
(namely CAN, Neu! and Kraftwerk) and rather shatters the ingredients across a ground zero landscape for both inquisitive fans and socially rehabbing musos to begin to assemble a unique self-styled identity. If Krautrock was the music that journalist told us lurked behind schlager (German pop) in the 1970s, then this record includes the music that skulked behind Krautrock and perhaps refused to polish its backhanded name belt.
Including lesser-known artists like the late Wolfgang Dauner, whose career proceeded and outlived the kosmische movement while consistently informing and outsmarting them whenever they got stuck in their metronomic ruts, or how about Fritz Müller, the man who
was to Kraftwerk what Stuart Sutcliffe was to The Beatles but had more in common with Yoko and quite rightly couldn’t give a stuff about the Fab Four’s Hamburg roots.
Elsewhere we have a plethora of German bands made for German audiences as they try and shed secondhand flower power Americanisms and feel the benefits of much harder drugs and the realisations of difficult second album budgets while Kommune 1
newsflashes wipe smiles from everybody’s faces and replace them with opioid chic or acid-sarcastic grins. Bonzo Cockettes show us their Big Muffs and drummers ask for extra mics while Conny Plank goes for parliamentary office and gives babies good firm handshakes for the camera.
‘Strain Crack & Break: Volume Two’ is the sound of Steve Stapleton’s sponge-like mind and the dividends of anyone who was brave enough to even peek inside those brick-thick gatefold covers never mind drop the needle.
Over forty years since Nurse With Wound’s first album was released, Finders Keepers Records and Steve Stapleton take connoisseurs of our kind of music back to the disused elevator shaft towards ground zero. Arriving at the same checkout from different departments, Finders Keepers and Nurse With Wound continue to sing from the same hymnal with this ongoing collaborative attempt to officially, authentically and legally compile the best tracks from Steve’s list, where many overzealous erds have faltered (or simply, got the wrong end of the stick).
After ‘Strain Crack & Break: Volume One’ merely scratched the surface of this DIY dossier of elongated punk-prog peculiarities, this second lavish metallic gatefold double vinyl compendium drives a much deeper groove which, in accordance with Steve’s wishes, focusses exclusively on individual tracks of German origin - the country whose music forged the prototype of the NWW inventory in the form of his secondary school vinyl wantlist in the early 1970s, comprised of disassembled free jazz, unshowered stoner psych, hypnotic prog, deranged monk funk and fuzzed out Deutschmark bin bonzo beats.

Adopted Berliner hailing originally from the US, Kyle Geiger is not just an experienced DJ and producer, having already released on staple techno imprints Soma, Perc Trax and Droid, but also a budding production teacher via his Twitch livestream started during the first lockdown of 2020. When he’s not sharing knowledge about DAWs and shedding light on diverse voices in the music scenes, he also runs his labels Cubero and Front Left.

Across three techno excursions, collectively dubbed 'Bellhouse' and numbered 1 to 3, Kyle uses recurrent themes and motifs to craft intricate techno rollers in different forms. 'Bellhouse 1' stands out as a peak time dancefloor track, complete with heavy-hitting percussion, a dramatic lead and scintillating hi hats. 'Bellhouse 2' on the other hand comes off as a more subtle, restrained groove, whose nervousness can keep the energy high, while the third track can be found more on the dubby side, with metallic synths and mechanical whirs atop a steadily evolving marching bass. Hosts Rebar take on 'Bellhouse 2' giving it their own spin - distilling its fidgety atmosphere into a more anchored, mind-bending slow burner.

Blue Vinyl

We continue our sonic adventure with Blovk, producer and sound designer from Madrid, he has refined his musical idea with his peculiar way of understanding techno and electronic music in general.
Releasing on labels such as Awry, Subosc, Postdynamic, Subsist, Doppt Zykkler, MainConcept… and his own imprint, Outside Noises.
In our XL series we want to showcase every corner of our artists’ sound spectrum. We are not just commited to raw and direct dancefloor weapons, we are also aiming the mind of the listener.
To make attemporal electronic music is one of our objectives and this record in particular deserves a place in the list of music to be played loud when all this nightmare finishes.
First cut on wax is Of sleep and tears, an emotional title that describes a dronney atmospheric introduction. Beatless, textured, full of resonant details and space wind.
Pouring Flesh brings the beat to the scene with a clear bass drum and a shuffled bassline setting the patch to martian synth noises and stereo details, all enclosed in an intelligent structure full of subtle twists and hypnosis. The thinking hand combines synthetic details with precise beats on a progressive arrangement.Elements come into action wisely, pulsating electronic grooves fighting with floaty elements make the recipe. Fluids above the skin open the B side in a darker mood. Heavy sub bass action and profound synthesizer lines setting the mood for what comes next.
Shedding machines acts as an ambient interlude in similar coordinates as the first cut in this mini LP.
Closing the release Fluent Gods, an electrified mental dance workout using a similar sound palette as the previous ones. Detailed and precise sound design ranging from sharp asymmetrical sequences, ethereal textures and profuse bass frequencies.
Music by Blovk, text by Hd Substance

Repress

Punctual like a Swiss watch, Driftmachine presents a new album that once again astounds and delights. We know their trademark: solid mechanical percussions, forceful bass and melodies systematically built around circular patterns. "Spume & Recollection" is the sixth Umor Rex album by the Berlin duo, and what better way to celebrate the label's 15th anniversary than with a new record from the masters of labyrinthine cables and patches. Regarding "Nocturnes" (UR 2014), their debut album, we described their sound as precise and symmetrical, identical concrete blocks mounted and articulated in a random order. Their already obsessive style continued to evolve with their third record, "Colliding Contours" (UR 2016), now pushing further into abstract dub, ultra-tense grooves, and even more kinetic loops, moving further away from conventional musical structures. Between these two albums they released the remarkable "Eis Heauton" (UR 2015), a kind of hypnotic experiment informed by shadowy atmospheres, chance, and an intuitive dialogue with their musical machines, a unique situation in which they acted as bemused observers in hunt for epiphanies, resulting in an exquisite amalgamation of lucid dream-logic and mechanical precision. A one-of-a-kind soundtrack for minute and wordless scenes unfolding in pitch-black back alleys and hidden, alchemical basements. A similar map was explored with "Shunter" (UR 2018), a superb secret meeting between avant-garde phantasmagoria and concrete experimentation. "Radiations" (UR 2017) offered B-sides and bonus tracks, in addition to collaborations with Shackleton and The Sight Below, a kind of preamble that united Driftmachine’s different expressions and leanings.

When Andreas Gerth and Florian Zimmer come up with new material, one listens with high expectation. Looking back on their discography, one could safely anticipate a high quality album densely layered with their familiar leitmotifs. And yet, "Spume & Recollection" takes us by surprise and finds a new way to transfix. Fresh methods and ideas are introduced to their dynamics and formula. Yes, of course, you can still expect a healthy dose of kosmische, which is one of the dominant features in Driftmachine’s DNA; but this is now entwined with novel materials, semi-material patterns of alien code stretching over exhilaratingly tense and detailed grooves, clouds of gas shifting on top of deep dub architecture and blocking out the sun for prismatic effect. Even more of a surprise is the immediate, streamlined nature of these tracks, making "Spume & Recollection" their most accessible record and, perhaps, the most addictive (and this without sacrificing the essential mystery and strangeness at the core of Driftmachine’s sound).

We have previously described their work as post-industrial-dub; right now, we might just call it hypno-music for man and machine to dance and dream together. "Spume & Recollection" takes this concept as far as it can go without breaking, and finds some strange new feelings, and weirdly danceable grooves, to shed some light on this dark and dazzling ride.

All songs written & produced by Andreas Gerth & Florian Zimmer in Berlin Mastered by John Tejada Artwork & Photos by Daniel Castrejón

Bachelor, the new project from Melina Duterte (Jay Som) and Ellen Kempner (Palehound), is not a band, it’s a friend-ship. After being mutual fans for years, they finally met when sharing the bill at a show in Sacramento in 2017. Keeping in touch over text and Instagram posts, Duterte and Kempner started recording together for fun in 2018, resulting with what would become "Sand Angel", the seductive slow-burner that convinced the pair to write an album together.

Reconvening in January 2020, the duo packed the entirety of Duterte’s recording equipment into two cars and headed to a rental house in Topanga, CA. In this space Kempner and Duterte hybridized their individual song-writing talents, producing a collection that slips between moods with ease and showcases their lyrical prowess. Arriving with almost no songs written and no solid plan, they

finished the 10 songs that make up Doomin’ Sun after two short weeks. That much work in so little time may sound exhausting, but it wasn’t, it was blissful and freeing.

There was a lot of pain that went into the record, especially around themes of queerness and climate change inspired by the red skies and wildfires subsuming Australia at the time. However, when the duo did shed tears during the creative process, they weren’t tears of sadness, they were tears of laughter. When Kempner and Duterte look back on those weeks, what they remember first is shortness of breath and the inability to track vocal takes without falling to the floor howling. They couldn’t remember a time they’d ever been so delirious with creativity, so overwhelmed with joy.

After a year of sadness comes an album fit to resist it. Detritus, the third solo LP by violinist/composer Sarah Neufeld, confronts anguish with beauty, turmoil with grace, gliding through the present like a dancer mid-motion, reaching through space 'til she's caught. Detritus originated with a collaboration: in 2015, Neufeld was invited to appear on stage with the legendary dancer/choreographer Peggy Baker. Baker had prepared a solo piece based on work from Neufeld's second album, The Ridge, to which Neufeld added an original lyrical prelude. The live result was an incendiary duet, almost a sort of face-off, which left each artist unsated. They agreed to reunite for a more extended collaboration - a full-length show with Baker's company, where Neufeld would write to (and perform music alongside) Baker's choreography. It was a fertile partnership, uniting the two women's intense, curious, ferocious sensibilities across an age difference of 29 years. Baker had conceived the show around the title of Neufeld's prelude, "Who We Are In The Dark," exploring themes of loss, betrayal and the emptiness of space; Neufeld was herself in crisis mode, reacting to a specific, earthbound kind of grief (including the end of a relationship). Making work together, they drew on these raw feelings - insistent, urgent darkness but also something that was, for Neufeld at least, much more unexpected: a romantic, tender-hearted love, inspired by the movements of the dancers before her. The work premiered in February 2019. Even before Neufeld and Peggy Baker Dance Projects set off on tour, she had the intuition that this music might take another form: as a distilled set of songs, refined and developed beyond the versions performed on stage. Starting that summer, she began arranging this lush and soloistic material - work that eventually became Detritus - and performed some of these experiments at her own solo gigs. Neufeld worked throughout the process with her Arcade Fire bandmate Jeremy Gara, whose drums, synths and ambient electronics co-anchored the Peggy Baker shows and helped shape the reimagined album versions. She would go on to add foot-pedal bass synth, wordless vocals and swells of French horn courtesy of Bell Orchestre compatriot Pietro, bringing in woodwind wizard Stuart Bogie as a one-man flute ensemble, layering clusters of chords atop Neufeld's luminous compositions.

René Pawlowitz is a man of many aliases SHED, Head High, Hoover, WK7 - for his debut on UTTU he returns to his Evil Fred guise for a 4 track EP absorbing UK Funky, Jacking Techno & "deeper than deep” Houz Muzik.

Tape

The arcane enigma from the caucasian mountains that is Natalie Beridze, treats us with a reflective concept album, her 9th solo album, focussing on buried chapters in her own work history.

“I sought after material, piled up on my old hard drives; - various sound debris, recorded and produced in the past. I recycled them beyond recognition and fudged them together into new samples to compose this album.

Mapping Debris is a term used during an investigation of a plane crash.
Special agency collects millions of infinite small pieces of shattered metal and wiring from the crash site. They later try to reconstruct an original fuselage of the plane from assembled debris, in order to recreate its story and reveal the reason that lead up to the catastrophe.



Mapping Debris is a manifestation of dematerialization in physical domain and time: shedding skin turning into dust, decaying objects, corrosion, atrophy, rot, nonsense and factual forgetfulness, which mirrors chilling fear of perishing, losing integrity, memory of events, images, smells and sensation of touch of those, who have already perished in their earthly archetype.
Yet in the aftermath of realization, one no longer dwells in colossal dead weight of inevitability of the end. The pattern perishing has a golden thread on one end - the one that makes us dwell in ceaseless possibility of rebirth, translation and remembrance.

This album is a continuation of series of works I have dedicated to my parents lives, as well as their death...”

It is an intricate poetic net one enters while surrendering to Natalies music. The spiky grit and her heartwarming, harmonic swashes that touch you like a hug, belong inseparably together and spread that multilayerd consolation, manifesting the force of music in its most glistening form. (Thomas Fehlmann/ Natalie Beridze)

Gatefold Double LP Pressing of Us and Them on Clear Purple Colored Vinyl. The artwork has been updated in celebration of the 15th Anniversary of this album.

PM Warson grew up in an English town, in a post 9/11 world, drifting into financial crisis, against the staple suburban musical landscape of heavy rock, the ghost of the New Wave, and the fading star of the Indie Boom of the Noughties. He found his own fit in the form of Rhythm & Blues from half-a-century before, drawn in by records in the family collection, engaging at a visceral level, abstract from any subcultural connotations. While an outlier stylistically, he found camaraderie and direction among musically inclined peers, saving up two summers straight for a Rickenbacker guitar, getting the taste for playing live with an archetypal teenage power trio. After a move to London to study, he was without a band for a while. The Rickenbacker was sold for an archtop, and he delved deeper into his musical vocabulary - delta blues, Americana, early jazz and Rock'n'Roll. Meanwhile, via the capital's blues clubs and soul nights, he discovered a new setting for the music that had enticed him the first place, existing, not in a vacuum, but alive and in the moment.

A chance audition thrust him into full-time work as a touring musician. He found himself, blissfully under-qualified, serving an apprenticeship alongside conservatoire-trained jazz musicians and session pros. Meanwhile, the inevitable downtime in new cities on the road allowed for significant crate-digging between coffee spots and sound checks, while feeding off the knowledge of the players around him. Becoming more and more interested in production, ever-drawn to the Golden Era of record-making, he befriended the proprietors of Soup Studio, then an all-analogue facility based on Cable Street. He started moonlighting on production projects and learning the inner workings of a studio environment. A network was building, and when it was time to break out on his own, everything was in place.

Shedding the construct of a 'band' or a 'singer-songwriter', and perhaps the monoculture of contemporary music-making, he started cutting sides with a band of friends and acquaintances found along the way. Without any wider ambition, it was as much about the process as the outcome, evoking the R'n'B records of the '50s and '60s in practice rather than emulation. His first effort, the ramshackle "You Gotta Tell Me" became a de facto single, and after being urged to press a few copies to vinyl by a friend, it began to cause a few ripples on the local DJ scene. Meanwhile, a wild, off-the-cuff cover of 'Hit The Road Jack' caught the attention of a London music agency, giving his lineup an outlet for playing out. This included house-band sets at London establishments such as the Blues Kitchen, Old Street Records and notably at the opening of the Mary Quant Fashion Exhibition at the V&A Museum.

After making a name for itself through acclaimed reissues of forgotten gems, Lyon’s Tunnel Vision Records is back, this time with a previously unreleased cult EP from the Serbian underground: InnVision’s Lake produced by Welljam aka Velja Mijanović, one of the pioneers of electronic music in Serbia and host of the legendary “Liquid” show on Yu Radio.

While it is fairly common these days for tracks to reach cult status after being uploaded to Youtube and picked up by its recommendation algorithm, the story of the Lake EP is truly unique.

Picture this: it’s the summer of 94 in Serbia and despite US sanctions, something was going on in the country’s musical underground with open-air parties on lakesides and other natural locations, fuelled by a feeling of freedom and creativity. At the time, InnVision was a 26-year-old producer inspired by the likes of The Orb, Brian Eno, Underworld, and Spooky. Unconcerned with adhering to trends or finding ways to make commercially-viable music, he created the tracks on this EP with Cubase running on an Atari computer and several synths fairly common at the time.

But the result was beyond anything common or ordinary. Described by its creator as “organic (ambient) house, but you can call it trance”, LAKE is rapture in its highest form. Pure enthusiasm seems to be driving this uplifting track, with an abundance of heavenly arpeggios and positive energy, along with masterful arrangements that make it even more grandiose, while retaining a light and dreamy quality (perhaps it is no coincidence that Lake in Serbian evokes weightlessness). It is one of those rare tracks that have a deep impact on body, mind, and soul and for which the repeat button was created. While adhering to a central theme, it never feels stale and this is explained by the fact that it was arranged live, with InnVision muting and tweaking everything in one go, which makes this track a “deskmix”, to use dub terminology. In fact, the producer remembers jumping around and shedding occasional tears while he recorded the final take.

On the flipside is another previously unreleased track, the forward-thinking NIGHTY. By no means filler, this is a timeless track with a subaquatic feel. With lush pads and elements doused in delay and reverb, you’d think this is a purely ambient cut, but it’s much more than that. Subtle melodic and rhythmic elements are engaged in a dialogue, and distant breakbeat samples can be detected in the background, enough to induce movement but never overtaking the vibe carefully created by InnVision. The result is a track that is at the same time featherlight and impossible to listen to without some sort of movement. Once again, truly unique music that transcends time and place.

Hainbach erected three huge sculptures (or ‘totems’) from obsolete, once high-end research equipment, taken from nuclear research labs, particle accelerators and grandfather’s sheds. These forgotten relics of scientific progression and milestones of human evolution were repurposed by the artist and given a new lease of life in a completely unforeseen capacity; as musical instruments dubbed the ‘Landfill Totems’. The juxtaposition of religious, totemic imagery and electronic landfill is, in part, meant to act as a commentary on the environmental cost of progress; what was once the pinnacle of technology quickly becomes unviable and destined for the scrapheap except for the intervention of Hainbach, upcycling and redesigning them as pillars and shrines to the idea that progress doesn’t always have to cause destruction.

Zwerm is a Belgian-Dutch electric guitar quartet (with a backyard rehearsal shed located in Antwerp) that operates along the borders between styles and traverses traditions that are typically not convergent. Zwerm rhymes Larry Polansky with Nadah El Shazly and are galvanized by the likes of guitars pioneers like The Velvet Underground and Sonic Youth, the microtonal DYI-er Harry Partch, Middle Eastern sonorities and the prog-madness of Kind Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. ‘Musical adventure’ is not just a hollow cliché for this quartet, but a genuine commitment. Zwerm calls itself a ‘guitar quartet’, but that can be interpreted broadly as well as with a pinch of salt: “If we want to do something on instruments we don’t really master, we’ll just figure out a way to make it work.”
Toon Callier, Johannes Westendorp, Kobe van Cauwenberghe and Bruno Nelissen all met in 2007 while working on a project with Glenn Branca. A new guitar quartet was born and it became clear rather quickly that staying in the strictly contemporary compositions lane was not for this quartet-with-five-to-six-members (an organizational chart is available upon request).
An appetite for new and lasting collaborations has been a constant theme throughout their artistic parcours. The group has shared stages with theatrical producers like Walpurgis and Post uit Hessdalen, dancers such as Ecce and with the musicians Fred Frith, Stephen O’Malley, Shiva Feshareki, Rudy Trouvé, Mauro Pawlowski, Larry Polansky, Eric Thielemans, Yannis Kyriakides, François Sarhan, Serge Verstockt and Stefan Prins. These projects have not always translated into records, but they have been decisive in creating a unique musical approach. In 2015, when Zwerm was asked by De Handelsbeurs to collaborate with Fred Frith, they proceeded to pen a few new musical sketches over which Firth sublimely improvised. In 2018 ‘Badminton in Tehran’ was released, their first record that was made up completely of only the group’s compositions.
“a basket full of buttons here
and if you push the wrong one: fear
and if you push the right one: love
or maybe none of the above”
The route that Zwerm has taken is often defined by the question “What if... ?” - like a dart thrown at a musical map, not quite blindly, but naive enough to lead to unexpected endings.
“What if we play Renaissance pieces written by John Dowland, but instead of playing lutes we play these tunes with a Telecaster – and then jam it through effect pedals and an amplifier?”
“What if we connect one hundred guitar pedals and just leave our guitars at home?”
“What if we record a record with ten different one-page-pieces that we found on the Internet?”
In 2020 our metaphorical dart landed on “What if we tried microtonality?”.
‘Microtonality’ sounds a bit creepy, but actually there is nothing to be afraid of: there are no out-of- tune notes, just alternate notes. On the continents where Western musical theory is less stringently applied, microtonality is the rule, and has become the subject of many deep and thoughtfully written theories. However for Zwerm, this phenomenon occurs in many, often surprisingly lighthearted forms. A dilapidated piano that has settled into a beautiful microtonal tuning of its own accord, enthusiastic choral singing, a guitar whose three strings are tuned a quarter-tone higher, a saz (Turkishquarter-tone lute), a maddening guitar pedal, ...
"the dreams they were convicted for telling only lies reality came after for claiming to be wise what you don’t see is what you get just never light a spark I’m a crow in the dark”
“And… what if we work with a drummer?” Enter Karen Willems - dummer, extraordinaire, and ardent player in groups, projects and collaborations galore. One chance meeting and the deal was done. It was obvious before the start that Willems was the versatile and creative percussionist-in-a-toy-store necessary for this project. And in the studio, to our delight, she demonstrated an easy dexterity when switching quickly from one idea to the next.
At the reins behind the scenes was producer Rudy Trouvé, who – during previous sessions for ‘Badminton in Terhran’, when the classically trained guitarists went completely off the rails, staring deeply and forlornly into their scores, looking for answers – was able to pinpoint the problem and get the wagons rolling in the right direction again. Completing the team were Mark Dedecker (recording)and Joris Calluwaerts (mixing).
The results are in and it’s called ‘ Great Expectations’ – a title that, in several ways, fits perfectly with these strange times.‘Great Expectations’ goes wide! Zwerm is at its best when it can run along the borders between style and across traditions that otherwise would not necessarily intersect. The most straightforward rockers have a proggy tinge while the dreamy psychedelic songs lean more toward Richard Youngs. And if a nice melody dared come to close to becoming a ‘Kit-Katjingle’, then barbs-a-la-Pere-Ubu were trailed, tracked, found and promptly embedded. ‘Heavy Machinery’ sits neatly somewhere between Captain Beefheart and Richard Wagner, and ‘On My Way To Aguno’, set to an Iranian folk song chord progression, grew into a hyper-personal lullaby. Zwerm used the saz (Turkish lute) and the sinter (Moroccan gnawa bass instrument) without falling into pastiche psychedelia, but you can still sense the orient.