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ROTCIV is back with his new EP ‘Memory’, which marks the 20th release on Beartrax’s label Melodize. Throughout the record, the Berlin-based and native Brazilian producer explores his signature dark, mysterious, and atmospheric vibes shaped by the underground and queer club nights and dance-floors that fuel his sound, refined by over almost 30 years behind the decks.

Maintaining Melodize’s specialized sound deep-rooted in moody electronic principles, the EP opens with ‘Memory’, a piercing, dark, synth dynamic alongside rich tonal textures in both harmony and melodies alike. Unapologetic, yet calming and reminiscent of a slow drive through the winter nights; cold, yet bold, sharp, and comforting.

First to remix ‘Memory’ with a nostalgic, synth-heavy 80’s remix is Frankfurt-based DJ, producer, and visual artist Chinaski. Integrating his signature bold synth hooks into the track, Chinaski knows how to roll in with longing sentimentality. The remix features a bouncier approach with re-envisioned acoustic percussion and catchy synth arps, along with an eery dark disco feel.

On the B side, Rotciv kicks in with ‘Trintage’, which gives a sinister sensation with its hypnotising bass synth lines alongside contrasting, choir-like pads. Seeping with articulate poly-rhythmic synth arps, Trintage guides the listener to be indulged into a dream-like state on the border between both digital and analogue soundscapes, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality.

Next up is New York-based and founder of Samo Records, Facets, who takes on the next remix for ‘Trintage’ with a more electro-grunge techno approach consisting of heavier four to the floor kicks in company of Rotciv’s hypnotic textures. Having shifted the synth melody rhythmically, a sense of space and tension is created within the soundworld of this track. The play between gritty bass-end synths along with softer, textured high-ends helps emphasize the groove injected into this remix.

One last remix of ‘Memory’ by Melodize’s own label founder, Beartrax, rounds out the EP. Available exclusively via digital bonus, Beartrax features his deeply hypnotic aesthetic by driving in ethereal synths alongside cosmic arps and slow-rolling rhythmic and pulsating groove lines.

The landscapes of Orlan 19 resembled the dream of a mad cartographer: cliffs were floating above the surface, horizons were bending and vanishing into infinity, and energy vortices were flaring up beneath their feet in psychedelic patterns. The familiar laws of physics didn’t apply here — gravity shifted chaotically, and time flew with unpredictable intensity. As Spacelunch, absorbed in thought, stroked the ground which distorted like a mirage under his touch, Cat’s grumbling echoed simultaneously from the past and future:

— Doc, don’t you think we’re just walking in circles?
— No wonder. That’s how inverse modelling works. Every action we take reshapes the surrounding space.
— Can you explain it in simpler terms? There’s only one genius here.
— Ever heard of the Philadelphia Experiment?
— Of course! You know how much I love sushi rolls!
— Well, I set myself up for this predicament… Back in my university days, we experimented with magnetic fields trying to program them by thought. You get where I’m going, don’t you? The planet is reacting to our intentions. So, focus on visualizing the portal.

The confusion on Cat’s face gave way to a mask of detachment. Clusters of matter began to tremble pulling the threads of reality to their breaking point before finally forming a vortex. Having devoured as much as it could, the vortex snapped shut with a loud pop and dissolved in a blinding flash.

As the scene began to take shape, silhouettes emerged under the soft glow of a desk lamp, evoking an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. A worn desk and a small bed stood by the wall adorned with faded photographs, while the floor let out a gentle creak underfoot. The clearer the interior came to be, the more paralyzing the realization, and the more elusive the explanation for what had happened became.

— Holy…! Cat, are we looking at the same thing?
— Yeah, but… This can’t be real.

Spacelunch slowly approached the window and froze still. A single thought raced through his mind: “The only force strong enough to pull me this far… was love.”

Phooka also known as Francesco Maddalena, is the co-founder of Concrete with Maurizio Cascella and is a respected producer who has released on his own label as well as listing appearances on Diffuse Reality, Warok Music and Blackwater

Remix duty welcomes Sweden's Anthony Linell, the renowned Northern Electronics label boss that features most of his original music, but he can also be found collaborating with Adiel on Danza Tribale, or remixing Tensal to Amotik for example. Under the significant Abdulla Rashim moniker, his tracks have also been released on top projects such as Prologue to Svreca's Semantica.

The second remixer included in the release is Plants Army Revolver, a notable duo from Italy who have released on Shifted's Avian, Mental Modern, Sense Code and HomeMadeZucchero.

The first track is Anthony Linell's remix of "False Flag" that uses a stuttering kick drum to create an abstract vibe and is met haunting tones and metallic percussion.

The "False Flag" original has a patient yet regimented rhythm from a thundering kick and warm, pulsing sub bass to showcase an interesting dystopian aesthetic.

Remixing "The Rug Pull," Plants Army Revolver harness a throwback, looping, tribal sound with dub techno influences and mesmerising hypnotic elements.

Track four sees "The Rug Pull" and its original abstract idea. Using sparse beats with congas and shakers amidst harmonic drones and other shimmering effects, it creates a unique sound tapestry experience.

Jeffrey Alexander and the Heavy Lidders return with their best album yet, and a UK tour this August. Press by Silver PR
‘’On the alternate timeline where the Meat Puppets inherited the bulk of the Grateful Dead’s tourheads when Jerry Garcia died in 1995, none of this would be necessary, because Jeffrey Alexander and the Heavy Lidders are a household name for evolving their own musical space that overlays dusty folk, cosmic jazz, deep psych, free improv, and even (gasp!) indie rock, building an audience that ranges from open-eared curiosity seekers to deep committed music weirdos that’s also yielded the Heavy Lidders, an infamous sub-cult of concert tapers that you’re already sick of hearing about. A lot of other things are better over on that timeline, too.
But in this consensus reality (and probably the other one, too), Liquid Donnon catches the Lidders at their heaviest, “heavy” in the Lidderverse being far from a monolithic musical idea. There’s heavy like the album-opening “From Loch Raven to Fells Point,” one of several tracks with elegant and gnarled conversational jams featuring the core Lidders lineup of Alexander alongside guitarist Drew Gardner and bassist Jesse Sheppard (both of Elkhorn) and drummer Scott Verrastro. But there’s heavy, too, like “Calliope Walker” and “Tightroping,” featuring Gardner shifted to dream-space vibraphone, the former with saxophonist Tacuma Bradley, the latter with Christina Carter of Texas noise-psych legends Charalambides on veil-crossing wordless vocals, her first collaboration with Alexander in some 20 years.
But then there’s also heavy like the cover photo of Alexander’s late friend and album namesake Donnon, taken at a Dead show at Rich Stadium in Buffalo in 1989, a spirit threading through the songs and weaving unexpectedly into Alexander’s life decades later, emerging especially when Alexander passed through a near-death experience of his own. But, taken together, the different heavies of Liquid Donnon add up into a state of musical grace, where all the Heavy Lidders from all the universes come together as one. Just, like, imagine.
Convened in 2019 on Alexander’s relocation back to his native east coast, the Heavy Lidders are the latest hard-touring expression for the guitarist’s music, joining a vast and tangled discography (and tape list) that includes the beloved long-running west coast Dire Wolves Just Exactly Perfect Sisters Band and, before them, the Iditarod and Black Forest/Black Sea, as well as a bushel of solo play-all-the-instruments projects, a stint with Jackie-O Motherfucker, sessions with Kemialliset Ystävät and Avarus and others, and you’ll have to keep digging for the rest.
And while it’s not hard to find tapers at Lidders gigs (and they encourage you to be one), or to track themes and songs over Alexander’s many live releases, Liquid Donnon makes a new primary text, the original versions of six new pieces for the repertoire. The album closes with a devastating pairing of “Reservoir Drop” into “The Summer Song,” floating into a duo between Alexander’s guitar and Carter’s voice. Catch a half-dozen Lidders shows this summer, and you might not ever catch them playing it like that again, but you just might open the doorway back to that better place." - Jesse Jarnow (writer, WFMU DJ, producer and host of The Good Ol’ Grateful Deadcast)

Oceanine, Jolanda Moletta’s third album and her first for Beacon Sound, is a powerful and ethereal statement of artistic community. Expanding on her previous work, each track represents a collaboration with a different female vocalist, with the foundational elements being generated entirely by her own voice. By turns haunting, enchanting, and inspiring, you won’t want to come up for air once you’ve been pulled under. Representing a
musical practice that is distinctly feminist, this is an album with a longer view in mind, to an age when the altars were to goddesses and women were centered as powerful beings representing the earth’s cycles of regeneration and renewal. Oceanine then, in all its beauty, can be viewed as an album of survival. It is deeply transportive, accessing something that lies within all of us. As the late, great Lithuanian folklorist and archaeologist Marija Gimbutas noted, “We must refocus our collective memory. The necessity for this has never been greater as we discover that the path of 'progress' is extinguishing the very conditions for life on earth.”

Jolanda Moletta is a multimedia artist and one-woman electronic choir. She creates wordless compositions through extended vocal techniques, integrating wearable-controlled live processing, alongside symbolic visuals. Moletta considers her performances to be a collective ritual and creates her Sonic & Visual Spells following the cycles of nature and the moon. Jolanda's 2022 critically acclaimed album Nine Spells was released on the Ambientologist label, followed by Night Caves on Whitelabrecs in 2025. Moletta’s artistic practice is a radical and spiritual journey through sound art, ritual, and the symbolic archaeology of the feminine.

Oceanine is inspired by sirens, water nymphs, and the timeless call of the sea. At its core lies Jolanda’s deep, lifelong connection to the Mediterranean Sea and to the ancient and modern myths and folklore that have emerged from its waters. Growing up by the Mar Ligure, Jolanda was surrounded by stories carried by salt, wind, and waves: legends of sirens, echoes of ancient voices, and the sea as both origin and oracle. This intimate relationship with the Mediterranean is not merely a backdrop, but a living source that shapes Oceanine’s emotional, symbolic, and sonic world.

Each track features a different female vocalist, creating a rich tapestry of voices, styles, and perspectives. This artistic choice not only broadens the album’s sonic palette, but also deepens its narrative core: celebrating the power, beauty, and mystique of feminine energy through myth, history, and sound.

The entire album is built exclusively from the human voice, processed and layered, yet always remaining voice, and nothing else. For each piece, Jolanda invited every vocalist involved to contribute a raw stem: a short, unedited melodic fragment of just a few seconds, inspired by the album’s themes. These intimate vocal seeds became the foundation of each track: the guest artists’ voices appear as brief, melodic stems, while the entire surrounding “orchestral” fabric is created solely from Jolanda’s own layered and processed voice. In this way, Jolanda’s voice becomes the Ocean itself, embracing, absorbing, and carrying the sirens’ calls within a vast, immersive soundscape. Every song is a unique expression of the feminine experience, revealing its depth, complexity, and emotional range, echoing the call of the sea and the many faces of the siren archetype.

The figure of the siren has transformed across centuries. In myths of Ancient Greece and Rome, sirens were hybrid beings, part woman, part bird, whose irresistible songs lured sailors to their doom. During the Middle Ages, the image shifted toward the half-woman, half-fish figure, often associated with temptation and danger. Historically, the voice of women has often been feared. Sirens were considered harbingers of misfortune not simply because they seduced or destroyed, but because they were powerful liminal beings.

In Ancient Greek, sirens functioned as psychopomps: figures who existed between worlds and guided souls, especially between life and death. Their songs were believed to carry forbidden knowledge, including prophetic insight and the ability to reveal truths about fate and the future. The danger of the sirens lay in what they revealed: knowledge that humans were not meant, or ready, to hear.

Oceanine confronts this legacy head-on. The voices heard throughout the album are not merely beautiful: they are dark and luminous, wild and enchanting, magical, soothing, dreamy, and at times fractured or distorted. They whisper, lament, beckon, and enchant. Like sirens, they skim the surface of the water and sink into its depths, hovering on the edge between tenderness and danger, vulnerability and power. They rise toward the sky, dissolve into mist, and return as echoes charged with raw, elemental emotion: voices that seduce, warn, mourn, and remember. They refuse to be reduced to decoration.

Alongside the album’s release in May, Oceanine will also unfold as a visual and performative work through a short art film. The film includes a live session recorded inside a sea cave facing the Mar Ligure, the very coastline where Jolanda spent her childhood, dreaming of sirens and listening to the sea as if it were speaking directly to her. This site-specific performance reconnects the music to its place of origin, allowing the voice to resonate within stone, water, and air, and transforming the cave into both a sanctuary and a threshold between myth and reality.

What if the sirens’ songs were considered dangerous because they carried another truth, an ancient truth long forgotten?

Oceanine embraces the idea that we are still deeply woven into myth. Though we may see ourselves as rational and modern beings, our world is saturated with ancient symbols and archetypes, often distorted, simplified, or stripped of their original meaning. And if those symbols are allowed to shift, if the mirror once held by the siren becomes an invitation to look beyond appearances and into what has been obscured, then we may finally uncover a deeper truth and reclaim the voice that was always ours.

Oceanine is not just an album. It is a reclamation, a spell, and a call from the depths.

A chopped-and-screwed love letter to the sounds of rebajada – half-speed cumbia, pioneered by Sonido Dueñez in the 1990s, and born from an overheated turntable motor that didn’t make the crowd stop dancing. With Debit’s treatment, rebajada becomes an ethereal, at times intense ambient tapestry that’s also a history lesson.

Spend any amount of time pacing the streets of Monterrey, the bustling city in the north of Mexico where Delia Beatriz, aka Debit, grew up, and you’ll be sure to catch traces of cumbia echoing from Bluetooth speakers, DIY soundsystems, or car stereos. An Afro-Latin dance form and »practica cultural« originating in Colombia in the early 19th century, cumbia evolved rapidly in the early 1900s, as a localised sound played on drums and flutes quickly modernised to integrate European instrumentation like the accordion. When it reached Mexico in the 1940s, the sound shifted again, fusing with mariachi styles and integrating further vallenato folk elements. Eventually, cumbia spread across the entirety of Latin America, splintering into a spectrum of different musical styles such as chicha in Peru, and cumbia villera in Argentina. And over in Monterrey, cumbia inadvertently found its own idiosyncratic groove.

From the 1950s to the 1970s, waves of immigrants from across Mexico and Latin America headed to Monterrey to find work, making a home in Colonia Independencia. Colombian cumbia records, shipped in from Mexico City, Houston, and Miami, became the soundtrack of the neighbourhood, relaying familiar stories to a rural working class adjusting to their new industrial reality. The sound struck a chord with locals, and huge street parties hosted by ramshackle soundsystems known as sonideros unified the diverse community. So when cumbia rebajada materialised serendipitously in the 1990s, it emphasised and highlighted the memory distortions at the heart of the immigrant experience. Local record collector, selector, and sonidero Gabriel Dueñez had been playing cumbia for hours one night when disaster struck: his turntable’s motor overheated and slowed down, turning the music into a warped groan, with half-speed voices echoing over wobbly accordion drones and splashy drums. But the crowd kept dancing, and Sonido Dueñez realised he’d struck gold – cumbia rebajada was born.

Over the next few years, he dubbed a popular series of mixtapes, hawking them at the flea market on the dried-up Santa Catarina riverbed beneath El Puente del Papa, the bridge that links downtown Monterrey with Independencia. These woozy archives became the stuff of legend, poetically but subconsciously shadowing DJ Screw’s series of epochal cassettes that appeared over the border in Houston. Beatriz uses Sonido Dueñez’s first two tapes as the starting point for »Desaceleradas«, entering into a dialogue with time, culture, and geography as she recalls the sonic ecosystem that surrounded her decades ago, long before she emigrated to the USA. If 2022’s acclaimed »The Long Count« was an attempt to recover concealed pre-Columbian history in the face of colonisation, »Desaceleradas« jumps forward, figuring out how memory and shared celebration can resist a more contemporary form of cultural erasure. As AI systems scrape, blend, and decontextualise culture around us, leaving vapid slop, »Desaceleradas« proposes a slower, more careful, and ultimately more human kind of engagement. It’s an archive with a pulse.

Under-the-radar artist CV1 debuts on Life In Patterns Lab with "Blocks of Darkness", a six-track EP that delivers a captivating blend of raw, expressive techno inspired by 90s and 2000s sounds with a modern edge. This release showcases CV1's talent for crafting immersive techno journeys, balancing peak-time energy with deeper, hypnotic, and introspective moods. "Blocks of Darkness" is set to release in mid-July 2025 on hand-stamped vinyl and digital formats.

With Scream If You Don’t Exist, Richie Culver metamorphoses from outsider musician to underground fixture, feeling his way from the fringes towards a growing community of musicians that have gravitated towards his singular sound world. Building upon the stark catharsis of his previous dispatches, on his sophomore album the artist draws from grimdark drone, industrial noise, experimental hip-hop and UK rave to map out a space for himself, caught between genre and discipline. While on his debut, I Was Born By The Sea, Culver took a last glimpse back at his grey, salt-flecked past while struggling towards somewhere brighter, here, he documents the process of finding fresh waters, parsing through the complexity of inhabiting a more open and optimistic place while contending with the weight of his resolve, staring hard won self-acceptance in the face. The album’s title speaks to this creative and emotional work, serving both as the foundational paradox from which the artist’s new discordant sound emerges and as a call to action, a defiant cry in the face of existential angst.

Part of this process involves visiting familiar territory with renewed focus. Macabre opener ‘Hottest Day Of The Year’ signals an unpleasant memory with crow caw, queasy, gas leak ambience and dental drill whir as Culver recalls a life lived in nihilism: “Everything is just something that happened / Reductionism, muscles spasms, a mother’s first contraction.” Yet, on Scream If You Don’t Exist, Culver’s irresistible formula for ragged machine poetry is shot through with palpable urgency. No longer listless and despairing, he finds new intricacies for these compositions, tracing a stark interplay between crushing bass excavations and penetrating vocal clarity, a contrast picked out in the delicate threads of rhythmic pulse suggesting themselves in the blunt pressure and skittering creep of ‘Weakness’, on which Culver offers up vulnerability as a tentative solution to self-described emotional constipation: “Please do / Do take my kindness for weakness / For I am weak / And that is ok.” The amniotic soundscape of ‘YOLO (then u die)’ gives way to depth charge drone and unnerving machinic improvisations, like a noise show heard from deep in the Mariana trench, while on ‘Underground Flower’ the low-end fog lifts to reveal a brighter, colder scene. “Love me for who I could be / Not who I am,” he pleads, tending gently to his own tenacious bud.

Scream If You Don’t Exist gives us a glimpse of this flower in bloom. On the album’s cursed self-help tape title track stuttering loops of off-kilter keys and childlike repetition make light of the very real risk of disappearing all-together, a nervous breakdown rendered as a malfunctioning nursery rhyme. Paranoiac anthem ‘Say 4 Sure’ introduces bit-crushed boom-bap stomp, as though hammered out on a water-logged Game Boy, swarms of loose-wire noise sparking up against guttural grunts and ragged exhalations, while ‘On The Top’ enacts a seance for the hardcore spirit, with loops of rave piano and hiccuping vocal chops pirouetting through knackered samples, air raid sirens and the ghostly crash of breakbeat cymbals. As though in response to the solitary nature of much of his musical exploration, this time, the artist invites other voices into the world of Scream If You Don’t Exist. On ‘Swollen’, the unflinching, brimstone prophecy of Billy Woods sounds clear through an expanse of spirallic bass, preaching the same frayed gospel as Culver when he issues the quietly devastating contemporary diagnosis: “Computer broke but it still works for now / That’s the best you can say for most of us anyhow,” while another fearless correspondent from the fringes, Moor Mother, brings earthbound heft to the ambient drift and obliterating barrage of ‘Restaurants,’ teasing out meaning with elongated intonation and pitch-shifted intensity.

It’s during the album’s most meditative moments that we might recognise this space Culver has found for himself for what it really is. ‘OMG They’re Gone’ follows a chopped and slowed monologue from Culver’s wife, who works as a death doula, reflecting on her own experiences with grief and the reality of living within a culture both terrified and ignorant of the process. Floating over glistening ebb, etherised croons and luminous chimes, her words stand as a prescient reminder of the power of ephemerality. Just as Culver flourishes in imperfection, here we can find enormous strength in transcience. But it’s with ‘Just Jump In,’ which unfurls like a buoyant counterpart to the sparkling oil rigs of ‘I was born by the sea’, that Culver illuminates the hopeful waters we realise we’ve been making our steady way towards. “I know now / That you loved me,” he admits, a revelation a lifetime in the making. Through the rawest reflection Culver has found a way forward, driven by an optimism drawn from a resolve to be better, to love and be loved, an admission to weakness and the discovery of a new kind of strength. “Don’t test the water,” he reassures us and himself, “just jump in.”

Scream If You Don’t Exist will be released in November 2023 by Participant, on limited edition vinyl, and digital download . The release will be accompanied by a series of films directed by Mau Morgo, Josiane M.H Pozi, William Markarian-Martin, Simon Bus, and Bruxism.

Brian Jonestown Massacre, Velvet Underground, TOY. “Upon the highways of Freedom, where Evil is like a Ferrari… “ Unbeknownst to its members, Index For Working Musik was born on an evening in late 2019 amidst the discovery of a collection of faded b&w photocopies that had been marinating on the floor of a urine-alley in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona. An assortment of sacred and profane imagery were crumpled amongst an essay on early Christian hermits, entitled Men Possessed by God, the meaning of which was enticingly vague. Received together, they planted the seeds for a new endeavour. Though Max Oscarnold and Nathalia Bruno were already engaged in a creative ping-pong of sorts, the results to this point had only totaled a 30 min long ½ inch tape containing one track and four interludes. They needed a page and they needed ink, and they needed a place and it needed energy. Suddenly by chance or divine intervention, their experimental venture had been given form and direction. Back home in London’s cursed smog, they moved themselves and their 8-track studio into a basement in E8, where the project’s gravitational pull gained strength, quickly developing into an unexpected collective with the incorporation of drummer Bobby Voltaire, double bass player E. Smith and guitarist J. Loftus. As the world shifted around them and the Plague Years followed, it became increasingly clear that they were not going to leave that small basement room. The scarcity of light or outer world presence was less a limitation, instead the main tool at hand, allowing the recording to stretch for boundaryless days in architectural isolation, and forcing them to make straight forward free guitar music, adopting a ‘first thought, best thought’ approach. 35 minutes of repeat phrased guitars, slow-clipped drums and dulcet vocals where the recurring landscape is the desert. Reel-to reel-loops of Afghan music compete with the found sound overlays of voices recorded at the queue of the pharmacy and drum machines borrowed from Spanish heroes, channelling both far-off climes and snippets from a closer reality. It’s a strange psychic brew, built of imagined mysticism and domestic realities, of fever dreams and days that stretched into weeks of months. What was sparked by that discovery in the Gothic Quarter was actually a realisation that what they were looking for was with them all the while, buried as it was in piles of voice memos and recorded guitar feedback. Men Possessed By God they may be not: it was self-possession that was to guide their way in the end. “Life, despite all its destructive changes, remains indestructibly powerful and joyful

Born from the fractal innerworld of Vymethoxy Redspiders,
better known as Urocerus Gigas from Leeds-based xenofeminist
crisis energy rock duo Guttersnipe, The Ephemeron Loop's
debut is a synaesthetic acid bath that cracks open the doors of
perception to reveal a sonic landscape of ineffable beauty,
divine femininity and continual transformation.

"PsychonauticEscapism" sublimes Guttersnipe's teeth-gnashing spacegrindaesthetic leaving washes of dream pop ambience, dilated
speedcore fusillades and shapeshifting psychedelic dub effects.

It's an album that lodges itself creatively between Cocteau
Twins, Arca, Basic Channel and Napalm Death, lysergically
fluxing imperceptibly between seemingly contradictory sonics
and philosophies. Miss VR took 14 long, difficult years to write
the album, which developed cautiously as she broke through
the misery of her pre-transition life with shoegaze music, rave
and psychedelic drugs in Leeds' queer underground. An
existence languishing in negativity, soundtracked by extreme
music was replaced with the opportunity to experience
euphoria, elation and ecstatic freedom, emotions that coalesce
sensually on "Psychonautic Escapism".

These formativeexperiences are the album's initial building blocks, assembled between 2007 and 2018 as Miss VR came to grips with her
reality as an autistic/ADHD trans woman and the multidimensional psychotropic experiences that assisted that realization. And as V's worldview expanded and shifted as she lived a fresh life, the music itself developed spiritually. In 2018,after being impressed with producer Ross Halden's work with Guttersnipe, Miss VR asked him to assist her with developing The Ephemeron Loop's fragmented songs and visions. "I learned a lot about why people don't usually combine various kinds of sounds or styles in music," she admits. "It is very difficult to get it to all work together!" But after two-and-a-half years of the duo navigating a "labyrinth of fragmented Reason 5 and Logic
projects," re-recording and processing, and working tirelessly on
complex arrangements and compositions, they eventually found
a light at the end of the tunnel. The finished album is towering
and ambitious, Escher-like in its illusory reconstruction of
familiar elements into brain-altering forms. The album begins
with 'Psychonautic Escapism (Cold Alienation)', decorating Miss
VR's disembodied moans with throbbing dub techno synths,
insectoid digital percussion and disorientating high-BPM
electronics.

Her vocals hover weightlessly between My Bloody Valentine's Bilinda Butcher and Cocteau Twins' Elizabeth Fraser, and on 'Lattice Dysmorphism of Lysothymic Oneiroid Cytoterrain' drift against grinding industrial hardcore kicks, serrated bass and Lorenzo Senni-esque trance pointillism. On 'Trench Through Pink Death', Miss VR's voice mutates into a shrill scream as she directs the music from splattered freeflowing doom into harsh hyper-speed death metal and
breakcore. Woven together with both precision and delicacy, "Psychonautic Escapism" turns a rough patchwork of ideas,
experiences, feelings and vivid emotions into a glorious neon
tapestry. In living and exploring the realities of autism, ADHD
and trans identity, Vymethoxy Redspiders has masterminded a
sonic language that feels fresh, urgent and shockingly honest.
Psychedelic is a term that gets thrown around far too loosely at
the moment - in this case there's just no better way of
describing the album's scope.

Lost soul phenomenon Lewis Taylor's Numb finally arrives on double vinyl! One of UK soul’s most fascinating artists, most enigmatic figures and most under-appreciated talents, Andrew Lewis Taylor is a prodigious multi-instrumentalist and eclectic polymath. He enjoys a fiercely loyal following which, over the years, has included celebrity champions like Bowie, Elton and D'Angelo. Numb is Taylor's sixth album, initially released on his own label Slow Reality (an anagram of his name) and licensed to Be With for this long-awaited physical edition. It captures Taylor's wholly unique, intoxicating take on lush, late-night psychedelic soul music.

Lewis wrote and recorded these 10 brand new tracks after a 17 year break from making music, although the album came together over a two-year period. The years away have done nothing to dull Taylor's unique musical vision. He still astounds. The lyrical themes, however, have shifted. Understandably, more than a decade and a half of soul searching and unflinching self-examination cannot fail to influence this most honest of songwriters, and boy does it show. Numb marks a return to the darker, more mysterious side of his output: "Brian Wilson-channels-Smokey Robinson atmospheres", as Mojo put it recently.

After playing a rapturously received gig at the Bowery Ballroom in NYC in 2006, Lewis unceremoniously walked away from music and disappeared completely. An interview in 2016 shed light on some of the reasons for Taylor’s withdrawal from the business, but there was no hint of a return anytime soon. Then in June 2021, news emerged out of the blue that he was readying new music alongside Sabina Smyth with whom he had worked first time around.

On Numb, Lewis deftly balances stark, soul-bearing lyrics with moody mid-tempo pop-soul sheen. He deals candidly with depression, mental turmoil, even thoughts of suicide - clearly more personal than Taylor's earlier songs. The music is rich, warm and layered, with infectious melodies and hooks that stick with you. A true grower of an LP, it really does reward repeated listens. As Jim Irvin in Mojo reflected, "despite the depths these plumb, it's a curiously uplifting experience, unfurling like a concept album about life's challenges with an optimistic beauty at its heart."

Triumphant dubwise horns ring out yet, almost instantly, “Final Hour” takes on a dark, downbeat vibe. With lyrics that confront (and, seemingly, confound) death head-on, Lewis ensures the groove is still there, the beats still swing and your head still nods, strings glissade. Woven around delicate yet insistent piano and subtle strings over a killer bassline, the title track “Numb” is a good example of the lyrical themes throughout the album. As Taylor reflects, "So removed I feel no pain / And for all I know I could be having the time of my life" with a coda that feels very much in conversation with Brian Wilson's finest harmonies. "Feels So Good" is sophisticated 90s-sounding soul of the highest order. The music and vocals feel simultaneously optimistic and despondent. Downlifting. A neat trick, and one Lewis has been so adept at over the years. "Apathy" is a mini-epic, a symphonic-soul gem which builds and glides and, eventually, soars. “Worried Mind" is another slow-builder, creeping out the gate in a sketchy, discordant fashion before climbing to half-crescendo but never quite breaking free of its disorientating restraint.

The brighter "Please" presents a more hopeful mood, with the refrain "I still believe" ringing out as Lewis harmonises with himself. "Brave Heart" quietly struts from step one, as Lewis's falsetto swaggers over a downtempo backdrop with ace echoey drums, beautiful strings and serene electric guitar. Closing out Side C, "Is It Cool" answers its own (non-) question with a spellbinding five and a half minutes of swoonsome deep soul that oscillates between a restrained, barely-there backdrop and a lushly full musical accompaniment of acoustic and electric guitar and organ over bass and slick drums. The penultimate track "Nearer" is a magical, soul-stirring ballad in which Lewis sings of reaching a sweet salvation and achieving a peace of mind. If the hairs on the back of your neck aren't standing up by the midway point, you might need to check your pulse. Album closer and true tear-jerker "Being Broken" places Lewis's gorgeous voice high in the mix and the wordless falsetto and melodies invite you to ponder what Pet Sounds might sound like if it were refashioned as a dubby 21st Century electronic soul album. Astonishing.

Simon Francis’s vinyl mastering spreads out the ten tracks over a double LP so, as ever, nothing is compromised. And as usual, the records have been cut by Cicely Balston at Air Studios and pressed at Record Industry. Turn it up and let the Lewis Taylor sound envelop you.

The Microphones, Bon Iver, Lomelda, Vegyn, Hovvdy, Dijon. “Lemon Cream” vinyl is for Indies Only. Follow up to 2019’s critically acclaimed ‘bunny’. Sam Hall’s new album as ghost orchard, ‘rainbow music’, is a collage of patience and meditation. It’s filled with nuances as quietly imperceptible as the seasons, or the profound movement of time, where one day looking back you realize your whole spirit has shifted. Where 2019’s critically revered ‘bunny’ was a love letter to a romantic relationship, ‘rainbow music’ documents the culmination of Hall’s first personal experience with loss in several forms. At the end of 2020, his longterm childhood pet passed away, and with it the last continuing threads of familiarity between being a kid and adulthood. Still based in the Grand Rapids, Michigan town he’d grown up in, the static ease of familiar living seemed to be coming apart at the seams, as friends moved on to bigger cities, relationships shapeshifted and in a short period of time, another kitten he’d adopted passed away prematurely, leaving Hall to question the trajectory in which he himself was headed. Like “songs in the key of life,” the title ‘rainbow music’ refers to the myriad of colors and qualities within Hall that are refracted throughout. It’s a symbolization of hope and the aftermath, the flickering light at the end of the tunnel (or “when a rainbow shows up after a big storm”). “Wish I could have fun anymore,” Hall ruminates on “dancing”, as well as confessing he “wish he made more upbeat bangers.” But reality packs more of a punch, and this collection of songs sees him finally be at peace with the current state of affairs. Relatable to anyone who has contemplated what it means to settle down, or even just catch your breath in an era where anguish is commonplace, the release of ‘rainbow music’ is a happy ending in its own right, a marker of survival that remains close to the bone. // Ghost Orchard’s “bunny” is a blushing, beatific beat. - The FADER // Fluttering and transportive, a swirl of beats and plucky guitar and strings that feels like a cocoon. - Stereogum // Hip-hop inflected, stream-of-consciousness confessionals that’ll have you swooning in the lazy summer sunlight. – Paste // Track listing: 01. Rest 02. Jessamine 03. Cursive 04. Maisy 05. Cut 06. soot 07. memory storage 08. Dancing 09. bruise 10. sweet song 11. comfort (rainbow)

The Microphones, Bon Iver, Lomelda, Vegyn, Hovvdy, Dijon. “Lemon Cream” vinyl is for Indies Only. Follow up to 2019’s critically acclaimed ‘bunny’. Sam Hall’s new album as ghost orchard, ‘rainbow music’, is a collage of patience and meditation. It’s filled with nuances as quietly imperceptible as the seasons, or the profound movement of time, where one day looking back you realize your whole spirit has shifted. Where 2019’s critically revered ‘bunny’ was a love letter to a romantic relationship, ‘rainbow music’ documents the culmination of Hall’s first personal experience with loss in several forms. At the end of 2020, his longterm childhood pet passed away, and with it the last continuing threads of familiarity between being a kid and adulthood. Still based in the Grand Rapids, Michigan town he’d grown up in, the static ease of familiar living seemed to be coming apart at the seams, as friends moved on to bigger cities, relationships shapeshifted and in a short period of time, another kitten he’d adopted passed away prematurely, leaving Hall to question the trajectory in which he himself was headed. Like “songs in the key of life,” the title ‘rainbow music’ refers to the myriad of colors and qualities within Hall that are refracted throughout. It’s a symbolization of hope and the aftermath, the flickering light at the end of the tunnel (or “when a rainbow shows up after a big storm”). “Wish I could have fun anymore,” Hall ruminates on “dancing”, as well as confessing he “wish he made more upbeat bangers.” But reality packs more of a punch, and this collection of songs sees him finally be at peace with the current state of affairs. Relatable to anyone who has contemplated what it means to settle down, or even just catch your breath in an era where anguish is commonplace, the release of ‘rainbow music’ is a happy ending in its own right, a marker of survival that remains close to the bone. // Ghost Orchard’s “bunny” is a blushing, beatific beat. - The FADER // Fluttering and transportive, a swirl of beats and plucky guitar and strings that feels like a cocoon. - Stereogum // Hip-hop inflected, stream-of-consciousness confessionals that’ll have you swooning in the lazy summer sunlight. – Paste // Track listing: 01. Rest 02. Jessamine 03. Cursive 04. Maisy 05. Cut 06. soot 07. memory storage 08. Dancing 09. bruise 10. sweet song 11. comfort (rainbow)

The Microphones, Bon Iver, Lomelda, Vegyn, Hovvdy, Dijon. “Lemon Cream” vinyl is for Indies Only. Follow up to 2019’s critically acclaimed ‘bunny’. Sam Hall’s new album as ghost orchard, ‘rainbow music’, is a collage of patience and meditation. It’s filled with nuances as quietly imperceptible as the seasons, or the profound movement of time, where one day looking back you realize your whole spirit has shifted. Where 2019’s critically revered ‘bunny’ was a love letter to a romantic relationship, ‘rainbow music’ documents the culmination of Hall’s first personal experience with loss in several forms. At the end of 2020, his longterm childhood pet passed away, and with it the last continuing threads of familiarity between being a kid and adulthood. Still based in the Grand Rapids, Michigan town he’d grown up in, the static ease of familiar living seemed to be coming apart at the seams, as friends moved on to bigger cities, relationships shapeshifted and in a short period of time, another kitten he’d adopted passed away prematurely, leaving Hall to question the trajectory in which he himself was headed. Like “songs in the key of life,” the title ‘rainbow music’ refers to the myriad of colors and qualities within Hall that are refracted throughout. It’s a symbolization of hope and the aftermath, the flickering light at the end of the tunnel (or “when a rainbow shows up after a big storm”). “Wish I could have fun anymore,” Hall ruminates on “dancing”, as well as confessing he “wish he made more upbeat bangers.” But reality packs more of a punch, and this collection of songs sees him finally be at peace with the current state of affairs. Relatable to anyone who has contemplated what it means to settle down, or even just catch your breath in an era where anguish is commonplace, the release of ‘rainbow music’ is a happy ending in its own right, a marker of survival that remains close to the bone. // Ghost Orchard’s “bunny” is a blushing, beatific beat. - The FADER // Fluttering and transportive, a swirl of beats and plucky guitar and strings that feels like a cocoon. - Stereogum // Hip-hop inflected, stream-of-consciousness confessionals that’ll have you swooning in the lazy summer sunlight. – Paste // Track listing: 01. Rest 02. Jessamine 03. Cursive 04. Maisy 05. Cut 06. soot 07. memory storage 08. Dancing 09. bruise 10. sweet song 11. comfort (rainbow)

There are few genres in which German artists play such a central pioneering role as they do in electronic music, be it techno, electropop, trance or rave. At the frontline for many years were Kraftwerk and U96, two absolute trailblazers of this musical direction. While Kraftwerk wrote international music history mainly in the 1970s with cult albums such as Autobahn (1974), Radio-Aktivität (1975), Trans Europa Express (1977) and Die Mensch-Maschine (1978), U96 had a profound influence on the global pop music, rave and techno scene of the 1990s with hits such as ‘Das Boot’, ‘Love Sees No Colour’, ‘Night In Motion’ and ‘Heaven’. Transhuman, scheduled for release on UNLTD Recordings on 30th October 2020, will feature a spectacular collaboration between U96 (Ingo Hauss

& Hayo Lewerentz) and Wolfgang Flür, Kraftwerk’s drummer in the years between 1972 and 1987 and therefore involved in the most seminal albums by the group from Düsseldorf.

This remarkable cooperation was first announced and implemented by two joint numbers on U96’s 2018 offering Reboot. Transhuman sees U96 and Wolfgang Flür develop their creative exchange across a full album, creating fascinating sonic worlds. The title song ‘Transhuman’ and an updated version of ‘Zukunftsmusik (Radiophonique)’ will be released as lead singles, including, as we’ve come to expect from U96, experimental video clips. That New York record label Radikal Records immediately secured the rights to the album for the US and Canada points to major interest in this project, not only on these shores but also across the Atlantic.

“Transhuman is a stylistic mélange of our different histories,” describe Wolfgang Flür and U96 masterminds Hauss and Lewerentz an offering that is spectacular in many respects, featuring, along with typical U96 tracks such as ‘Clone’ and ‘Specimen’, numbers such as ‘Transhuman’, ‘Planet In Fever’ and ‘Sexersizer’ that are inspired by Flür’s past. Notably, the content has been reduced to the sheer basics, in other words: sparingly used associative statements with deep, but at times also playful and mysterious messages that the listener feels rather than consciously registers. The lyrics are about the transformation of people through technology and our massive interference in life on our planet. Hauss: “Pieces like ‘Zukunftsmusik’ and ‘Transhuman’ don’t tell a story in the classic sense, they articulate emotions and associations in very few words, bringing to mind recordings such as Radio-Aktivität, Autobahn and Die Mensch-Maschine. In addition Transhuman, features a number of melodies created on the basis of computer algorithms, in other words fractal music which takes us even further back in history, to Klaus Schulze, Stockhausen, the electronics laboratories of the fifties and sixties and the musique concrete compositional technique.”

LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide), is a hallucinogenic chemical compound, first synthesized in 1938. Upon its introduction into popular culture in the 1960’s it quickly shifted not only the mind of the artist but also the person experiencing the art.
Hip-Hop artist Cambatta is known for his thought provoking and psychedelic-inspired rhyme techniques. His newest album entitled, “LSD”, is just as the title insinuates- mind-bending and consciousness-shifting. This album was created throughout four years of psychedelic usage and reality-based life changing events. This process has made the album a duality of both real and surreal interpretations.
The album’s title is also an acronym for “Lunar Solar Duality,” alluding to the album’s dichotomy of light and dark conceptualizations and countless other polarizing and multi-entendre-latent compositions. Whether you have ever experienced LSD or not, this album is sure to impact anyone receptive and perceptive enough to take a dose.

LIMITED EDITION 300 ONLY WHITE VINYL

There was a terrible egregious shift in vibration the day the transmission arrived. It came to me in a dream, as was natural for these particular occurrences, and left no time for preparation. The sound was unmistakable, a low baritone that echoed wildly and reeked of ancient fumes. A deeply monumental and monolithic apparition stood before what appeared to be a crowd of hexagonal beings. The vibrations worked through them in an apparent communicatory way, though would be impossible to translate in any logical linguistic fashion. I don’t know how but I knew they were aware of me, though their disposition was imminent of their consciousness as being collective, rather than individual; and were largely unbothered by my presence.
 
Once the transmission had finished it was clear that there had been a tamper. The kind of which Id seen  before, and had resulted in definite yet undefinable change in the fabric of reality.
 
I initially stumbled upon the odd and highly dangerous musical practices of Perhaps while on an assignment in Bermuda. There had been rumors of a local tribesman partaking in occult practices, of which I knew was native strictly to the Goat Bleeding Bad Men of the Congolese jungle. These rumors intrigued my journalistic nature, so I took the afternoon off in the hopes to possibly glean something that would be an easy pitch to a tabloid back home.
 
Upon arrival it was clear there was a strange foreign intervention within the community of the tribe, which was largely uninhabited upon first glance. Much of the surrounding foliage had been strung with the entrails of various animals and there were several disturbing fixtures composed of bones and various organs lining the commune. I managed to track down the tribesman, who appeared to be in some deep trance and was entirely unable to communicate, though seemed to be fixated on a single task: the drawing of a peculiar symbol. My researching the symbol resulted in only one hit, a piece of musical literature by a band Perhaps, who I later found to be recording in the area just weeks before.
 
It didn’t take long for me to become fully fixated on Perhaps, who were anything but coy about their whereabouts and metaphysical practices. Wherever they went a small commune followed, which was typically composed of deranged acid freaks, occultists, and Norweigian dairy farmers who had sold all their assets to follow the band after “hearing their music speak from the mountains”. After managing to crack into one of their camps that was stationed in an abandoned motel, I spoke with Jim Haney of Perhaps regarding their cultish practices, who gave little in way of detail but claimed to be working towards a deconstruction of reality through a linguistic utilization of vibration.
 
My stint with the cosmic beings through the telekinetic transmission had lead to one conclusion; that Perhaps have been in the works on something new. It seems as if they may have landed on the result which Haney had mentioned years ago. Through my continued interest I’ve procured the names of other members of this current project, which include: Sean Mcdermott, Tom Weeks, Ricky Petraglia, David Khoshtinat, Ben Talmi, Makoto Kawabata, Lucas Brode, Isiah Mitchell, Olivia Kieffer, Tyler Skoglund, Chang Chang. Though I can’t say exactly what is to come, it seems as if the ideas that were proposed during my initial meet may have been surpassed. Perhaps’ plans have begun to surface, and we are all at risk, for whatever that means. The great column and the vibrational prismic beings have shifted their attention to earthly matters, it would be foolhardy to not heed their warning. Though, self-preservation may be an impossibility.
 
Sam Hailstone Dec 24/ 2019

righteous expensive: motohiko hamase's 1986 album "reminiscence" scores a decent prize at online vinyl selling platforms and it is worth each coin!

it's a perfect "refuge from nasty reality", as the glorious british 20jazzfunkgreats blog once said. and it comes from a man that knows his trade: bass play - an artisan on which he also already wrote many theoretical books in his more than four decades long career.

in the 1970's hamase was no stranger to tokyo's vibrant jazz scene. together with jazz pianist tsuyoshi yamamoto and jazz-rock guitar-ist kazumi watanabe he played in the isao suzuki sextet and was part of their classic landmark jazz-funk album "ako's dream" from 1976.

in the following years he also participated on records like mikio masuda's latin-funk-jazz gem "moon stone" or japanese female jazz singer, actress, and essayist minami yasuda's last album "moritato". in the early 1980ees his work shifted from pure jazz to electronic and ambient spheres and he started to compose his own music around his deeply emotional bass play.

from 1985 to 1993, hamase released five solo albums. just recently studio mule dropped his first one, "intaglio", in a new recording that sounds as stunning as the original release from 1986.

now the previously mentioned "reminiscence", his second work for the celebrated defunct japanese new age record label shi zen, follows in a fresh shape on studio mule.

as the original, it features deeply touching moments of sheer pristine perfection and distributes hamase's inner emotional landscape with a bewitching bass performance. a soothingly beauty of an album, that reflects hamase's search for spaces of melancholy.

a rhizome of soundscapes that capture, settle and sound elusive while simultaneously being awe-inspiring. as for "intaglio", the 66-years old artist gathered again some befriended musicians, rented a studio, staged his gear and recorded most of the original "reminis-cence" material new, while keeping the moving musical story arc of the original album alive in a fresh wrapping.

the result is a dazzling, blue mood seething, strongly hypnotic longplayer, full of personality and hybrid ambient electronic jazz spheres that open doors to unheard sound universes and that perfectly work for all those stress-relieved souls that love the disclosure of the mind and seek for a "refuge from nasty reality".