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"There could barely be a better figurehead for Belgrade's simmering multi-limbed music scene than Jan Nemeèek" The Quietus `Dissolved', a new album by Serbian synthesist and sound designer Jan Nemeèek, began its life cycle in a studio live room. It unpacks the paradigm of the individualistic act of computer music creation, transporting it into the communal setting of a band, its performers contributing elements ranging from prepared piano to Turkish lyre. The album opens with an unexpected falter, a false start that imbues the album with a sense of vulnerability. It's as if the album itself is finding its footing, mirroring the dissonance of an orchestra tuning. This digital ensemble, an assembly of electronic voices, seems to search for its harmony, its discord, its pitch, its timbre - much like a traditional counterpart would. As it unfolds, `Dissolved' further taps into the raw tonalities of partially defunct digital synthesizers, ranging from early 2000s' attempts at neural networks to precursors of oscillator-laden software synthesizers, in order to build its cloud of suspended tension and alternate histories. Through this clash of wistful piano and biting frost of digital pads with the iridescent hum of tube amps, the album reflects New Age tropes through the prism of metal (machine) music. Hailing from Belgrade, Serbia, Jan Nemeèek has been releasing electronic music since 2005, with a particular focus on ambient and bass-heavy electronic compositions. Nemeèek's music is characterized by his use of a wide range of sound generating tools, including neural networks, analog synthesizers, and granular synthesis. His approach to music production allows his work to unfold with patience, influenced by borderline dub sub-bass movements and heavily based on deconstructed recordings. Jan has released several albums, most notably 2014's Fragmented and later Recurrences. Prior to that, he co-founded the Creative Commons-based net label Norbu. `Dissolved' is set to be released on vinyl and digital on 10th November 2023 via Refractions, a new imprint founded by Nemeèek.

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Malian and French pair Siraba unveil their much-anticipated self-titled debut LP on Damian Lazarus’ Secret Teachings label, a 10-track odyssey fusing Mali’s rich musical traditions with cutting-edge electronic music.

Malian hunter Boubacar Samake and Damien Vandesande, one half of the French electronic band dOP, have won plenty of plaudits for the early singles taken from their debut album as duo Siraba. Those singles, spanning across the summer months, have found the pair bring the traditional sound of the Wassoulou - a river valley of West Africa - to the electronic world after 20 years of friendship. The music comes with an important underlying message of love and respect and results in spellbinding tracks that move heart, body and soul, finding a perfect home on Secret Teachings - a left-of-centre alternative label to Lazarus’ celebrated and often more club- focused Crosstown Rebels. With the arrival of the full album, the pair exhibit and showcase the emotional breadth and depth of their music, with detailed explorations of organic textures and native sounds merged with future-focused ideas and concepts.

The title track opens with an atmospheric mix of spoken words and spine-tingling chords that bring rich Afro flavours, while ‘Dounoiia’ is a languid groove made from hand drums and pixelated synth leads that cast a fine spell. The slow-blooming ‘Bani’ brings rich Malian blues and melancholic horns, while ‘Komafly’ is a rich mix of acoustic strings and broken beats that transports you to a hot and dusty landscape. A vital component of the sounds of the Wassoulou, the indigenous stringed instrument the Ngoni features again on the rousing ‘Nanse’ as spiritual vocals sung in Bambara rouse the soul.

‘Djandjo’ is another rich infusion of Malian culture with simmering electronics to make for something both ancient sounding yet futuristic, and the hypnotic ‘Ngana Fôlly’ with its rich bass is a song ‘dedicated to those who fight for the well-being of their families, for unity... a song for the people who also fight a great disease, between life and death’. The sublime ‘Toro’ is a wavy groove perfect for sundown - a deep and inviting sound rich in soulful vocals and dreamy melodies, while ‘Tolonawoulile’ is driven by the intense strumming of the Ngoni with busy hand claps and hurried drums and last of all ‘Fo Te Mokobana’ sinks into a heart-warming slow groove with sweeping strings and Malian percussion all overlaid with impassioned vocals.

A rich listening experience, Siraba’s debut album is an immersive journey and absorbing dive into the minds of two artists breaking new grounds while spotlighting native traditions and musical techniques spanning hundreds of years.

The rising Tamil-Swiss artist Priya Ragu is set to release her long-awaited debut album ‘SANTHOSAM’ on October 20th.



‘SANTHOSAM’ (the Tamil word for ‘happiness’) is a standout dynamic album which takes her raguwavy sound – simmering R&B, masterful pop hooks, earthy soulful vocals, dance beats, and the warm tabla rhythms, and spiralling melodics of Tamil music – to even more adventurous heights. Defined by Priya’s contagiously positive spirit, it pulsates with gorgeously varied musical textures and urgent political themes. Once again crafted in collaboration with her brother and producer Japhna Gold, it’s an album that originates from Priya’s quest for self-discovery.



‘SANTHOSAM’ opens with ‘Ammama’s Note’, which features a voice recording in which Priya’s grandmothers is questioning why she isn’t married. Like many young South Asian women, Priya felt like she wanted to achieve much more before she settled down, regardless of other people’s preconceptions of what direction her life should take. That ability to write one’s own destiny continues the euphoric ‘School Me Like That’, set to a rumbling tambla beat and breezy synths. More universal issues are explored in the blazing anger of ‘Black Goose’, which was written in the wake of the murder of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter protests, and ‘Let Me Breathe (Reprise)’, a spiritual call for freedom, emancipation, and peace.



Elsewhere, the record brims with highlight-after-highlight, taking in everything from the dancefloor disco energy of ‘One Way Ticket’ to ‘Power’ which features a rousing string arrangement that was written by Indian composer Bala and recorded with an orchestra in Budapest. It closes with ‘Mani Osai’, a song which continues a yearly family tradition in which Priya, Japhna and their father write a song together. Never intended to be a Priya Ragu track, it nonetheless felt like the perfect way to close the album – especially as the concluding “santhosam” chant conveys the meaning of the word with life-affirming zest.

Funk The System! The recipe is simple: Dig deep, listen to your heart, record everything you got on a dusty old desktop computer, leave it to simmer for the time of a pandemic, and if it's still fresh, serve it up on the finest plate of black wax! This collaboration started in Dusseldorf in the year 2018. Locked up for a week in the Flanger Studios, Wolf Muller and Credit 00 recorded everything: from the jaw harp to smartphone apps, chopping up GDR Jazz breaks and squeezing the Funk out of every synthesizer and drum machine at hand. You will hear the open mindedness towards all sorts of musical influences from the first note. Each of the five tracks showcases a wild mix of flavours: Disco Reggae, B-Girl Breakbeats, Protest Folk, Subway Funk, Tabla Rhythms, you name it... they'll take it and shake it! It is obvious these two got sonically socialized and educated by the multiculturalism of Hip-Hop in their early days. After the first Recording Session, the tracks fermented for some time until they were cracked open again. This time in Leipzig at Credit 00's Westend Workshop. That's also where Rizmi from Birmingham joined the team and lent her voice to the title track. She reinterpreted the lyrics of the obscure German 1980s Workers' Rock Song, that Wolf digged out for the Intro Skit of ,,Funk The System". A long time in the making, Rat Life is very happy to finally publish this EP!

A frequent collaborator of THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN writer/director Martin McDonagh’s, Academy Award®-nominated composer Carter Burwell previously worked on three of his films, starting with In Bruges. He also worked on Seven Psychopaths, as well as his Oscar-nominated score for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, their last collaboration.

For THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN, McDonagh already had, for one section of the film, a piece in mind that’s performed by a Balinese gamelan ensemble – mostly metallic instruments. Taking that inspiration, Burwell weaved gamelin instruments alongside the score’s three main instruments: the celeste – a keyboard that plays bell sounds, the harp, and the flute to create the film’s highly-acclaimed score.

“The score to Banshees is, like its slow simmering conflict, delicate and nuanced and heartbreaking all at once,” said Mondo Creative Director Mo Shafeek..” It takes small steps backwards and forwards like crashing waves on a lonely island, strings and woodwinds dancing with one another, in a waltz. The whole score plays like a dance between two overlapping voices - occasionally harmonizing, but never connecting. Occasionally beautiful, but always a bit melancholy.”

Paolo Mosca makes intricate, multi-layered electronic music. Inspired by the early club sound pushed by the pioneers from his home region Veneto, he fuses house, trance and ambient - and moves forward. The Metaphysics EP displays the artist's passion and ingenuity, unfolding technical skill that makes clear his studio clock is set to 2023 and not 1993. On "Luciddreams" a statically charged beat and organ bass work up a groove. Accompanied by a misty pad and a slow, pensive arpeggiator, it pulses towards the break: there an acid line emerges, finds its spot in the mix, and refuels the track. "Energia" draws from a bolder, more euphoric range. Hand drums, a glittering lead and airy yet restrained chords float soaked in reverb and delay. A lean bass sequence tightly keeps the rhythm as flanged claps and subtly positioned sweeps create extra movement. The second side's opener, "Under the sea" features a formant filter lead meandering within the sweaty framework of heavily gated choir pads and a frugal bassline that eventually gets layered with an M1. Modulated vocals and strokes of additional melody ensure the stereo field again gets used to its full capacity. "Acqua" is a fitting coda. Some familiar patches are deployed over a tumbling beat that takes charge of the pace from the get-go. The palette might seem bright and blissful, but as always, the track's latticework contains enough contrast for a slight feeling of melancholy to keep simmering beneath. Mosca cited his meditation routine, how it helps him materialize ideas and thoughts, as a main drive upon finishing this record. The Metaphysics EP is a ruminative work. Comprised of four explorations in deftly manipulating energy with due attention to balance and momentum, it easily flows between genres, details darting in and out, showing the artist's understanding of composition and dance music history. It is a deep-dive selection of club-oriented cuts we are excited to release on Altered Circuits.

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo- psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl - shaped 12 -string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untet hered, silhouetted against an open horizon. "Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic fingerpicking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect baggy, soaring, grey skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure - esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place." "Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15 minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

Four years after they went all the way to Antarctica, Flat Worms are back in gen pop with the rest of us - but, as intoned on the album opener "Sigalert," "back again like I never was." Is this a nod to the way time passes over our sorely vexed synapses? Or are we to believe that there"s hope to be found in this broken world? Kick back with Witness Marks and see what other traces Flat Worms have left us in the dust. The album title alone leaves a foreboding impression. But look closer - "witness marks" aren"t something out of a forensic analysis - they"re actually practical; scratches placed in old clocks designed to aid continued maintenance further in time. Sure, there"s big questions and more on the board; primarily if we"re at all distinct from the absurdity coming down around us, or just another character in the mirror? Flat Worms are looking inward this time, outlining personal space in relation to themselves and others - sometimes even people they barely know. Among the slabs of slategrey outrage, the flowers of compassion are blooming, and the simmering power of their trio grows exponentially. Working once again with Ty Segall, Flat Worms continue to find new answers by digging into themselves and playing their kind of rock: hard and flat, bass and drums thrusting stalwartly forward with conviction, guitar twisting and spinning in outrage, deadpan vocals decrying a dire set of circumstances. The democracy of working together, so often messy and frustrating, was found to be a powerful release for Justin, Tim and Will. Acting as one, Flat Worms navigated challenging times by coming together, finding release in the clockwork repetitions of practice and the shared creative space they occupied together against the encroaching world. In the short century of their existence, Flat Worms have agitated against the status quo with a disquieting lyric bent, to emphasize the psychosis of the times. These are positions taken within songs, sung out to individuals in the world. As evidenced by the lyrics, "But I know I can always see you at the show Even though it"s only temporary and it"s time to go." . . .Witness Marks surveys an evolving sense of community. Flat Worms are dedicated to persevering and using the power of their collective. Come witness!

Four years after they went all the way to Antarctica, Flat Worms are back in gen pop with the rest of us - but, as intoned on the album opener "Sigalert," "back again like I never was." Is this a nod to the way time passes over our sorely vexed synapses? Or are we to believe that there"s hope to be found in this broken world? Kick back with Witness Marks and see what other traces Flat Worms have left us in the dust. The album title alone leaves a foreboding impression. But look closer - "witness marks" aren"t something out of a forensic analysis - they"re actually practical; scratches placed in old clocks designed to aid continued maintenance further in time. Sure, there"s big questions and more on the board; primarily if we"re at all distinct from the absurdity coming down around us, or just another character in the mirror? Flat Worms are looking inward this time, outlining personal space in relation to themselves and others - sometimes even people they barely know. Among the slabs of slategrey outrage, the flowers of compassion are blooming, and the simmering power of their trio grows exponentially. Working once again with Ty Segall, Flat Worms continue to find new answers by digging into themselves and playing their kind of rock: hard and flat, bass and drums thrusting stalwartly forward with conviction, guitar twisting and spinning in outrage, deadpan vocals decrying a dire set of circumstances. The democracy of working together, so often messy and frustrating, was found to be a powerful release for Justin, Tim and Will. Acting as one, Flat Worms navigated challenging times by coming together, finding release in the clockwork repetitions of practice and the shared creative space they occupied together against the encroaching world. In the short century of their existence, Flat Worms have agitated against the status quo with a disquieting lyric bent, to emphasize the psychosis of the times. These are positions taken within songs, sung out to individuals in the world. As evidenced by the lyrics, "But I know I can always see you at the show Even though it"s only temporary and it"s time to go." . . .Witness Marks surveys an evolving sense of community. Flat Worms are dedicated to persevering and using the power of their collective. Come witness!

It is a privilege to welcome Ed Upton back to Shipwrec for his sixth release with the label. An artist who has been at the forefront of electronic music for three decades, under his well-honed DMX Krew guise the British musician has crafted icy electro, thoughtful electronica and textured techno. It is a combination of these styles that culminate in Tree in Space. A steady kick tethers "Parasite" to reality, a thick earthen melody countered by twinkling refrains as soaked drums splash. Off-centre bleep and beats introduce the title piece. Solid basslines are lightened by playful brassy electrofunk notes as genre limitations melt into Summer warmth. Skeletal scales find themselves confronted by a bruising bulwark of bass in "Unbelief." Balancing these angular and globular tones are arcing keys that draw the disparate elements into unity. "Meltdown" is the closer. Blending a spread of sounds, acid, braindance and techno, DMX Krew serves up something truly special. Brooding notes are met by cracked percussion and simmering 303 squawk in a track that pursues its own path. An EP from a musician that continues to stretch boundaries and imaginations.

Recorded in 1995 and 1996, mostly in John Fahey"s room at a Salem, Oregon boardinghouse, the performances on Proofs and Refutations prefigure the ornery turn of the page that marked Fahey"s final years, drawing another enigmatic rabbit from his seemingly bottomless musical hat. Cloaked in the language of dogma - what is he proving? refuting? - this is Fahey dancing a jig in the Duchampian gap, jester cap bells a-jingling. True believers? He"s got something for you: an uncompromising vision that you can sneer at ("guy can"t play anymore and refuses to concede!") or embrace as evidence of his genius ("the reinventor does it again!"). Skeptics? He"s there with you, too: sending up the fallacy of certitudes altogether. Institutions, systems, accepted wisdoms. Heroes. Alternative facts, indeed. Right out of the gate, Fahey re-materializes before us, somewhere between Oracle of Delphi and Clown Prince at Olympus. Mounting a thundering dialectic from on high, "All the Rains" resembles nothing else in his extensive discography - betraying roots in everything from Dada to Episcopal liturgical chant - and contains nary a plucked guitar note. You can"t fool him! When the lap steel of yore appears on "F for Fake," it serves more as soundbed for an extended sequence of vocal improvisations, running the gamut from wordless Bashoian caterwauling to free-form (but decidedly fake) Tuvan, even revealing a burnished falsetto in the process. Fahey takes on a different kind of provocation in the two acoustic guitar-based tracks closing Side 1 - "Morning" parts 1 and 2 - the first of 4 recordings in this session that have him wrestling with the ghost of Skip James, perhaps Fahey"s effort to wrench the "bitter, hateful old creep" (his words) back into the grave. Anchoring Side 2 is the two-part "Evening, Not Night," the second half of his extended cathexis on James (and the latter"s avowed castration complex - another story for another day, perhaps). Bit of a chill in the air - where"s the impish Fahey from earlier? Unmistakably working through some psychic wounds here, we might think: the unheimlich rendered in glistening viscera. Or is he playing with our notions of authenticity, of his reputation as troubadour of raw emotional states, a pilgrim of the ominous, the simmering unconscious? These cards are kept decidedly close to the vest. The opening and closing pieces again feature Fahey"s guitar as drone soundbed - employing distortion, oscillation, and an altogether absurd quotient of reverb to create texture and harmonics that are - if we wanna go there - not dissimilar to the sustained tonic clusters of Tibetan singing bowls, the hurdy gurdy, Hindustani classical music, or La Monte freaking Young. Portions of this material appeared on obscure late "90s vinyl in the 7" or double-78 rpm format, but as a "session" it has lain dormant more than a quarter century now. Taken together, we can now see these tracks as secret blueprints to latter-day Fahey provocations, several years prior to records like 1997"s City of Refuge and Womblife.

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo- psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl - shaped 12 -string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untet hered, silhouetted against an open horizon. "Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic fingerpicking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect baggy, soaring, grey skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure - esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place." "Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15 minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

PowerSolo had a few decades of confrontational badassery behind them already when they descended on a barn in the Isle of Mön to record this, their 85th studio (OK, barn) album. The concept was clear: let's boil up a crazy stew with all the ingredients that the fanbase knows and loves. Kind of a return to the roots and the early albums in the mid 2000s It's Raceday... and Egg. Let a bunch of very diverse songs simmer together and create a beautiful dish that is both xtra spicy, surprising, complex yet super yummy. Like a Jambalaya: distinctly American fare, but not mainstream at all. We're talking Creole and Cajun food influenced by African as well as French cuisines and made by the ingredients at hand - some high end and some cheap and maybe even gone a bit stale. Seafood, chicken and smoked pork sausage combined in a vibrant, tasty and utterly unique mouthful. Yes, the metaphor promises a lot, but the album provides. Like the aforementioned LPs, as well as the breakthrough hit album The Real Sound from 2014, Jambalaya - Xtra Spicy was recorded, mixed and produced by Ulrik Petersen and Jesper Reginal (aka The Great Nalna and Yebo of The Tremolo Beer Gut infamy) at Dark Side of The Möön / Kondi Frost Studios. The musical crew consisted of main man Kim Kix as well as his right-hand man Anders "Peasoup" Pedersen. The drums were alternately manned by none other than former PowerSolo member JC Benz and live drummer Mike "ZACK" Sullivan. A pinch of South American spice was added by Flavia Couri of The Courettes on the duet "If I Could Fly" and every dish deserved a bit of French sugar. It was applied on "She's A Trucker" by none other than Phoebe Killdeer from Nouvelle Vague and Phoebe Killdeer & The Short Straws. Kix has previously produced and guest starred on these ladies' recordings, and they were both happy to take a seat at the table of this feast that is Jambalaya - Xtra Spicy

Collecting recordings made between 1953 and 1956, Miles Davis Plays For Lovers is a look at the more sensitive and sensual side of the great trumpeter, focusing on his sultry and smoky late night ballads. Mostly featuring his legendary mid-50s quintet of Coltrane, Garland, Chambers, and Jones, this collection highlights that groups ability to slow things down to a soulful, brilliant simmer. Classic jazz ballads that swing, perfect for late nights with a lover at your side.

Octave One return with Never On Sunday Vol.2, an EP with new remixes from Orbital and Giorgia Angiuli next to three standout recent tracks.

The Detroit duo’s Never On Sunday alias was born in the nineties with a view to making a mix of downtempo, deeper and more thoughtful electronic sounds. After just two EPs, it lay dormant until last year when the new EP The Bearer on their own 430 West label brought it back to life to a great reception. Then came the Octave One Presents Never On Sunday album this year that collected together a wealth of originals and remixes which are now coming on 12".

First up is legendary brotherly duo Orbital - a UK antecedent to the Burden brothers who have been crafting pioneering electronic sounds for decades. Their remix of ‘Price We Pay’ feat. Karina Mia is deep house excellence. It has a bouncy groove, elastic bassline and simmering vocals that send shivers down the spine and the sci-fi synths twinkle up top. Italian multi-instrumentalist Giorgia Angiuli has long been innovating in the techno world, drawing on her classical background to craft standout sounds for the likes of Kevin Saunderson’s KMS label. Her remix is six uplifting minutes of synth arpeggios, soulful techno drums and epic breakdowns that will captivate any dance floor.

The b-side features three cuts from the Never On Sunday (Deluxe) album and opens up with 'Lifelike', a slow, pulsing dub with mysterious melodies and sinewy synths reflecting light like stars in a night sky. A textured bassline arrives to bring a real sense of tension to the melodic beauty. 'Soon After' is another cosmic cut that rides on hammering bass beneath lush synths capes and rays of hope that pierce the darkness. The blissful 'Mona' closes down with heavenly and expansive pads that shimmer and shine as rich bell sounds and choral pads bring a warm sense of atmosphere.

Never On Sunday Vol.2 is another package of deeply emotional electronic sounds.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

In an era defined by futility, isolation, and precarity, it can be difficult to envision a utopia. But on Skeleten’s thrilling, immersive debut album, Under Utopia, the Sydney musician dares to imagine new ways of being that are not characterized by doom or despair. Across eleven tracks of free-flowing, transcendent, and often euphoric electronic music, Skeleten praises the power of comradery and community; while dreaming of a future that is joyously boundless. 



Skeleten, real name Russell Fitzgibbon, has always been fascinated by the ideas of utopias. He’s thought a lot about how the concept has shifted and morphed throughout history, and how the goal post for a utopia is always moving further and further away. “We're more familiar with the idea of a dystopia in the modern world - that's more close to our consciousness. I think on this album I wanted to explore the importance of imaging and embodying a new world.”

Written before and during the pandemic, the album was born out of a desire to connect with others and to shake the mantle of introspection that had been placed on his previous works. From the opening notes of the otherworldly album opener “Generator”, it's clear that this record prioritises immediate pleasures without forgoing intimacy. The lyrics are also more explicit, reaching outward with inviting choruses and mantra-like melodies. “I think the album came out of the experience of feeling this great desire to reconnect and dreaming of the power of community,” says the musician.

This is especially present in lead single ‘Sharing The Fire’, a song that crackles with optimism. A sprawling dance track with pulsating synths and Fitzgibbon’s gentle, warm vocals, the song is about futures that are full of brightness and bliss. As the artist repeats in the song’s chorus: “for all that you know, summer could be around the corner.” The song is about an “almost frustrated desire to connect with more people and feel that sense of community through shared goals.” The accompanying video clip, shot on 35mm, is similarly invested in ideas of companionship and gathering. Shot in a clinical, drab office space, friends and revelers fill the space with warmth and energy.

Elsewhere, this invocation of paradise is infused in the stripped-back, singular title track “Under Utopia”. The song was significant to Fitzgibbon, as it allowed him to gather all his thoughts and ideas about his new music under one message. “It’s something I wrote when I had this collection of songs and wanted to give it a single voice, which was about seeing the world entirely new, full of hope and beauty, and all of us underneath pushing it upwards.” 

An antidote for gloom presented in Under Utopia is the transformative power of love. There’s “Heart Full Of Tenderness”, a woozy, languorous love song, awash with cloudy vocals and glistening synths; the truncated beats and hypnotic pleading of “Territory Day” and “Right Here It’s Only Love” which explores the icier and ambient side of R’n’B.


Another hallmark that characterizes Under Utopia is Fitzgibbon’s airy and spacious mix, which gives his songs room to sprawl out and simmer; as well as allowing his calming baritone to come to the fore. This is notable in the contemplative, synth-laden “Colour Room”, the funk-tinged “Walking On Your Name,” the previously released “No Drones in the Afterlife,” and the beloved early single “Mirrored,” which speaks of finding yourself through a connection to those around you.

Fitzgibbon has been enmeshed in the Sydney music scene for years. Skeleten emerged out of a need to experiment and make music without worrying about the outcome. “It was just me making music that felt right, and very much focusing on this kind of meditative aspect of exploring without any goal,” says Fitzgibbon. But as the project has evolved, the artist has gained clarity on what he hopes his music will achieve: bringing people together, and creating an atmosphere of elation. Or as Fitzgibbon puts it on Under Utopia’s hallucinatory album closer “We’re gonna get everything we need in the world.”

MARMO, a collaborative project between Christian Duka (Vādin / Amoenus) and Marco Maldarella (Sinestesie), was born out of friendship and shared passion for music-making. Starting off respectively as the electric guitarist and singer in a metal band nearly a decade ago, the pair have worked their way through various flavours of electronic music inhabiting someplace between ambient and dance music, arriving at their singular aesthetic on this, their second album and first for Utter.

'Epistolae' - Latin for 'written letters' - was created between London and Bologna during the COVID-19 pandemic, an ode to friendship and as a way to keep connected during a time of isolated separation. The album is conceived as one continuous musical experience, with each track flowing effortlessly into each other in sequence as is heard on the final cut you are listening to now. A veritable sonic journey, as one might say.

The outcome is an undulating collage carrying emotion as its common thread, with rich ambient textures giving way to bursts of percussion, simmering with shrouded whispers and spoken word, embossed with rhythms and borrowing influences from downtempo, dub, breaks, techno and tribal electronica.

'Epistolae' is available on limited vinyl and digital formats, mastered & Cut by Anne Taegert at D&M. Artwork by Marco Maldarella.