Suche:slow glass

Born of a thousand nights lost in a surrender to stillness and contemplation, In The Air is Anna St. Louis’ second full length album and her most considered work yet. St. Louis’ debut If Only There Was a River seemed to emerge fully formed out of the recesses of her mind; a gritty, mesmerizing affair, filled with jagged edges and ghostly apparitions. The type of record that announces a new voice; one haunted by what has come before.

But this time, St. Louis is no longer concerned with what could have been and sets her sights to exploring what could be. It’s an outlook on the world that was formed when her immediate one was small. The intervening years since her last album found St. Louis in a small one-bedroom cabin in the middle of the woods of upstate New York with a new love and time to think of what she wanted to express with her music. For weeks on end, the only trips she took were to and from her job as the front desk clerk at a nearby hotel. The previous years she had spent on tour and performing constantly in the venues of Los Angeles felt like they had occurred in another lifetime.

“It really compelled me to surrender to the unknown,” she says. And in this surrender, she found liberation. St. Louis is more self-assured, open-hearted and ready to say what she wants. St. Louis describes the writing period as one of a slow harvest; a fertile time but one that required a newfound patience. Instead of documenting her first thoughts, she spent more time with each song, going deeper with the themes and ideas she wanted to express.

This slower approach also guided the sonic textures of the album. Working with producer Jarvis Taveniere (Purple Mountains, Woods) in two extended recording sessions in Los Angeles in 2021, St. Louis used the studio in a previously unexplored way, opening up her songs to more experimentation featuring brighter tones and a more orchestral sound to accompany her new perspective. To that end, she was aided by a cast of friends and collaborators including Jess Williamson, Kacey Johansing, Oliver Hill (Kevin Morby, Vagabon) on strings, Alex Fischel (Spoon) on piano, Josh Adams on drums (Bedouine, Tim Heidecker) and Keven Lareau (Cut Worms, Hand Habits).

In the Air has the sound of a joyous consideration of the present moment; a quiet morning revealing a new snowfall outside, steam coming from the kettle, just before it whistles, St. Louis with her guitar, staring out the window, with a few free hours before work. She’s reflecting on the scene in front of her, imagining the times yet to come. You can hear it; she’s a long way from the noisy bars of Los Angeles, the rigors of the road. As she intones in “Rest”: “You spend your whole life believing in the chase. And then you realize that being somewhere doesn’t matter like it used to.” She doesn’t need a river to carry her anymore ... She’s in the air.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Symphony No. 107 –The Bard, a previously unheard archival recording of the legendary improvising ensemble MEV (Musica Elettronica Viva), captured in concert at Bard College, New York in 2012. Formed by a group of American expat composers in Rome in 1966, the MEV ensemble played an important role in the development of free improvisation, bridging the live electronics tradition begun by Cage and Tudor and the high-energy squall of free jazz. Early recordings like Spacecraft or The Sound Pool unleash volleys of metal and glass amplified with contact microphones, howling winds, primitive synthesizer bleep and raucous audience participation, the intensity of which puts much later ‘noise’ to shame. In later decades, the ensemble would go through many iterations, often including legendary free players like Steve Lacy and George Lewis. In its final years, MEV settled into the core trio of founding members heard here: Alvin Curran, Frederic Rzewski, and Richard Teitelbaum, using piano, electronics, and small instruments.

Curran, Rzewski, and Teitelbaum were life-long friends blessed, as Curran says, with ‘incompatible personalities’: major figures in the post-Cagean experimental tradition, they explored countless divergent and even contradictory paths as composers and performers, from agitprop songs to brainwave-controlled synthesis. MEV is the sound of these three personalities coming together, their contributions radically individual yet attaining a state of ‘fundamental unity’ that Rzewski, in a text written in the collective’s earliest years, defined as the ‘final goal of improvisation’. Of course, listeners familiar with aspect of the trio’s individual works might hazard some guesses about who is doing what: the crisp piano figures are probably Rzewski’s, the cut-up hip-hop samples most likely Curran’s, the sliding, squelching synth possibly Teitelbaum’s. But often these identities are dissolved in a constantly shifting hall of mirrors, the listener unable to tell which of these pianos is live and which is a sample of a past virtuoso, or whether a horn blast derives from ethnographic documentation or Curran cutting loose on Shofar. The two side-long sets here occupy a similar terrain of constantly shifting texture and instrumentation, unexpected interruptions, and moments of sudden beauty. The first set is sparser, at times almost ominous, as a bell repeatedly sounds across wheezing harmonica, seasick orchestral textures, and creaking wood, making room for episodes of yodelling and delicate prepared piano before exploding into a storm of buzzing synth and piano fragments. The second set is more frenetic, moving rapidly across centuries and continents: cars crash into post-serial piano pointillism, wailing voices collide with chopped and screwed hip-hop samples, Hollywood strings are buried under layers of electronic gurgles. The performance slows in its final moments, making way for a sampled voice repeating the phrase ‘protest and the good of the world’, reminding us that MEV’s idea of freedom was always more than musical. Symphony No. 107 –The Bard is a beautifully recorded example of the endlessly multi-layered later MEV sound, accompanied by new liner notes by Alvin Curran (now the only surviving member of the group) and a selection of previously unseen photographs from across the many decades of the group’s activity. Arriving in an elegant sleeve bearing a beautiful photograph by Francis Zhou of the Olin Hall at Bard College where the concert was recorded, this is an essential document from a major group in the history of experimental music. As Rzewski wrote, this music is ‘like life, unpredictable, sometimes making sense, mostly not’.

How about you forget for a moment all the things you thought you knew about Saroos, okay? First of all, let’s forget about all the other projects these guys are part of. Why? Because thinking of The Notwist, Driftmachine, Lali Puna, Tvii Son, to name “only” half a dozen things, might be misleading in this case. What’s more, please make sure to forget the fact that they’re mostly filed under “instrumental,” “post-rock dub,” or “kraut-flavored indie-tronica,” you know, all that. And most importantly, let’s forget that they’re a closed, three-minded system: a fixed and fully committed entity of three. No more!

Known to reinvent themselves in less drastic ways, Christoph Brandner, Max Punktezahl and Florian Zimmer, have opened the floodgates to COLLABORATION – making things open, porous, different, new, in many ways, on their quietly explosive latest album “Turtle Roll”.

Announced by 2021 singles “Tin & Glass” feat. Ronald Lippok and aptly titled “Frequency Change” feat. Leila Gharib aka Sequoyah Tiger, the sixth full-length sees the Berlin threesome add another handful of vocal guests along the way – thus turning into shape-shifting full bands and/or temp quartets, perfectly at home in about as many genres as there are tracks on the LP.

Kicked off by the motoric B-funk (Berlin represent) of the Lippok-assisted “Tin & Glass,” complete with retro-futuristic effects, spoken declarations, and non-terrestrial vibes, it might not be Daft Punk playing at their house, but a byobv (vibe) house party of musical minds isn’t too far off, actually! Once again as much a mixtape as an album, the mood, vibe, and color changes with every new collaborative tune: From ethereally soothing and dreamy (“The Mind Knows” feat. Solent from Canada) to clap-driven and wildly hypnotic (that pounding “Mutazione,” featuring vocals and rhymes courtesy of Eva Geist from Italy) and almost radio-ready (“current, bass-heavy alternative indie hits only!”), when that stadium-sized oomph of “Frequency Change” feat. Sequoyah Tiger arrives around halfway in.

Elsewhere, Japanese guest Kiki Hitomi (WaqWaq Kingdom) adds exotic ecstasy to the hypothermic beatscapes of “The Sign,” while Ukrainian vocalist Lucy Zoria pushes poetic layers over “Southern Blue”’s wonky foundation that hardens and finds more direction with each round the beat clock takes – until it’s impossible to escape that undertow. “My baby makes it better,” sings Caleb Dailey on the faithful and still-loving “Being with You,” a sepia, softly churning look back by the US songsmith, a sweetly shimmering ode to a relationship.

Speaking of foursomes, there’s four instrumental tracks scattered throughout the new LP – ranging from a painting in crystal clear colors of night (“Organ of Recall”) to the highly dramatic sonic tapestry of “Thicket” (actually feat. vocals as well). Before the perfect goodbye of slow-moving album closer “Here Before,” “Passed Out” sounds like Odd Nosdam finding his feet after blacking out on a German carnival.

Titled after a surf maneuver that allows you to break through the crests on the way out, Saroos have skipped the obvious waves with “Turtle Roll” – creating their own kind of sonic “Hang Ten” by adding 7 new voices to the mix.

11th album by the one-of-a-kind collective: psychedelia and free form jazz (not jazz) trigger a sophisticated excursion into weird textures with drastic turns. Dislocated dense music full of secret connections!

Kammerflimmer Kollektief – "Schemen"

Before reason prevails, invoked by those who want everything to remain as it is, Kammerflimmer Kollektief disrupts the established supply chains of sound. It seeks more interesting ways to assemble them. Trusting in this, because of the fact that every sound that still comes out of a guitar, a bass, a harmonium, drums and electronic devices has already been taken into the common mangle of meaning anyway. Enough of all that. Here, nothing is explained. Here we speak in schemes. Polished and jerky.

The images that Kammerflimmer Kollektief conjures up therefore happen not in the focus of consciousness, but rather in its outer realms. In those to which one does not give one's full attention at the moment, but which are nevertheless perceived. For example, when a leaf falls from the ground back up to the tree in the corner of your eye, and for an instant you think this is possible, before you realize it was a small bird flying into the tree; it is in just such irritating moments between perception and realization that the art of the Kollektief also unfolds. On "Schemen", familiar fragments float gently around their core – a Fender Rhodes tone, a bass figure, a guitar motif, a masterful drum shuffle, a moment of icy stasis borrowed from the harmonium playing of Christa 'Nico' Päffgen. Triggering brief associations, they slowly rush off in other directions through free jazz-informed editing work, whereupon such zones can also arise in which perception has a few tricks ready and earlier experience suddenly breaks into the now in a completely different way. Half suspected, half seen.

Half-music like Can from Cologne – also masters of improvised editing – sometimes produced a few decades ago in their in-between moments. The first minutes of "Future Days" for example, which fade in gently, sketch a barely graspable figure emerging from all directions of the room. Kammerflimmer Kollektief also engages in similarly open moments of development. Loosely, it eludes the first formative impressions, keeping itself ready for moments that do not follow any logic of appointment. This looseness in handling makes Kammerflimmer Kollektief so fluidly audible, even when dissonant peaks and free playing arise. What Karlheinz Stockhausen is to Can's understanding of composition, the recordings of The Cocoon are to Kammerflimmer Kollektief. The Cocoon, a meeting of garage psychedelics from the Hannover area with free jazzers from the Galaxie Dream Band, whose album "While The Recording Engineer Sleeps", recorded in 1985 in unguarded moments, operates in a very similar way with decentralized perceptual ambivalences and only appeared more or less secretly four years later on Wilhelm Reich Schallspeicher. Other traces of "Schemen" lead to the debut album of Quicksilver Messenger Service. The guitars of Gary Duncan and John Cipollina, which refer to themselves in an unforced manner, are instructions to let go. They don't want to be traced in every note as a solo, but they give their music a sense that the essential takes place off center, in the mutual and intuitive gift of loving attentions. Consciousness-free.

Loving turns like the little guitar phrase that, like a kind of leitmotif, is repeatedly ghosting more or less unchanged through all of the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums. A Coricidin induced, very catchy slide idea filtered out of ancient Æther, which – who knows – maybe even centuries ago found its way from somewhere to America – the old, the eerie – and from there wafted on through the ages to southern Germany, to a smoky studio in the Upper Rhine lowlands. A memory of which even the memory no longer knows what it once reminded. Unsaid, then forgotten.

In Kammerflimmer Kollektief you will also find a friend of slowly building, unhurried music, which probably would have been appreciated by the old Franz Mesmer, who 200 years ago, after tranquilizing treatments, sometimes used to play for his patients ambient melodies on the enormous glass harmonica. However, in order not to surrender completely to the flow of one's own life energy, as Mesmer had in mind with his therapies, Kammerflimmer Kollektief occasionally adds hectic tensions, gently embraced by the droning of a sine wave generator, as if a trance could briefly refesh. This old analog sine wave generator is new in the Kammerflimmer assortment of sounds. So, the art of the Kollektief likes to dock occasionally in modern times, yet with the past in mind. Mental states begin to flicker between imagination and certainty, between culture-bound art expression and coincidences: A cawing and scraping can always just be a cawing and scraping with Kammerflimmer Kollektief, the way Andy Warhol's mushroom eater just eats a mushroom.

Heike Aumüller's cover works, which illustrate all the Kammerflimmer Kollektief albums, additionally act as amplifiers of unexplained refractions. Her style consists of eye-corner art that remains so, even when looked at directly. Her shots remain disquieting because they do not jolt themselves into a reassuring order, even in retrospect. Rather than evading the fear that arises when looking at them by trying to impose some irrational rhyme or reason, that fear must simply be endured. This strategy of endurance is equally applicable to the music. The trick is to let parts be parts without compulsively seeking delusional patterns that lull us into a false sense of security and in doing so, possibly delude ourselves. In this context, freedom means not having to anxiously attach a fantasized superior meaning to everything. "Schemen" has an conspiracy disintegrating effect.


b A2 Zweites Kapitel (ruckartig) [feat. Heike Aumüller]

Over the course of a 19-year career, Marshall Watson has released all manner of musical treats for a similarly wide array of labels, yet it’s the effortless beauty of his downtempo works – and particularly his ambient and Balearic excursions – that have often left a lasting impression.

It certainly caught the attention of NuNorthern Soul founder Phil Cooper, who brought the West Coast producer to the label in the summer of 2021. That EP, Sunsets on Larkin Parts 1 & 2, was undeniably special. The same can be said about his belated return to the label, Foothills, an EP packed to the rafters with slow-burn melodies, sustained chords, becalmed textures and gently unwinding grooves.

Watson’s distinctive take on Balearic naturally comes to the fore on EP opener ‘High Desert’, a soft-focus delight where languid electric guitars, starry electric piano lines, echoing chords and gently pulsing electronics stretch out across a shuffling groove. While tailor-made for watching the sun set off his beloved Pacific Coast – and over the Mediterranean Sea – ‘High Desert’ offers a dose of hazy sonic sunshine that can brighten up even the greyest of days.

Fittingly, the accompanying remix comes from long-time friends of the label Seahawks, whose textured, layered and atmospheric productions similarly blur boundaries between Balearic, ambient, pitched-down dancefloor grooves and glassy-eyed psychedelia. Employing opaque, shape-shifting pads, effects-laden guitars, subtle spoken word snippets and yearning, almost melancholic chords – all atop a crunchy, head-nodding beat and toasty bassline – the duo deliver a remix that’s as emotive and sonically stunning as Watson’s original mix.

The EP’s three other tracks amply demonstrate the subtle variety within Watson’s downtempo output. Vocalist Julie Childe makes her mark on ‘Sweet Sounds’, a brilliant blend of warming deep house and laidback Balearic nu-disco that sports subtle hints to his work as one half of synthwave duo Causeway, while ‘Open Sky’ brilliantly wraps undulating TB-303 acid lines and echoing Spanish guitars around a hypnotic, locked-in dancefloor groove.

Then there’s ‘The Landscape’, a deliciously saucer-eyed slab of breakbeat-powered, TB-303-sporting genius that evokes the immersive, early morning waviness of the ambient house era, the beach party psychedelia of San Francisco’s free party movement, and the bleeping wonder of turn-of-the-90s UK dance music. Like the rest of the EP, it’s an enveloping, head-soothing and mind-expanding treat.





e B2 High Desert Seahawks High Sky Remix

All of us carry a piece of where we’re from with us, but these parcels of fallow land often in a uniquely mysterious way become the prey that nourishes our aspirations. Agnès Gayraud a refined thinker by day that transforms into la Féline at night left Tarbes many years ago in search of greener pastures. After making a name for herself with Adieu l’Enfance (2014), Triomphe (2017), and Vie Future (2019), the author and musician has evolved once again. Her latest release Tarbes reinvents the circle of life and challenges our preconceived notions. She welcomes us to her hometown with sweet and clear melodies over the backdrop of an electronic hum, reminiscent of Mark Twain classic Tom Sawyer. Tarbes is no more than a listen away. Physically prevented from returning to her hometown by the viral threat we all know all too well, Agnès found her way back with a small Electone home organ. The constraints of off-peak hours that called for some DIY savvy, slowly but surely, roused her spirit. With a drum machine, a bass and a guitar, she succeeded in making the young girl inside her smile again. With 13 songs and just as many adventures Tarbes is a concept album that tells the story of a young woman’s formative years, as spent in her hometown. The returning hymn doesn’t only imprint nostalgia, it paints the full emotional portrait of a town. Because for Agnès, Tarbes is not just her theater, but her whole world, showing how fiercely protective she is of her hometown in the song Solazur. Under a magnifying glass of emotion, and with the sentimental testimony that is La Panthère des Pyrénées, the artiste shows us the skeletons in our own closets. Tarbes, more than a brief stopover in a rail journey to the coast, broaches issues that touch on abandonment, desertification, aging and redevelopment that many French towns and cities face today. Alexandre Guirkinger’s photographs serve as album art that illustrates this strangely unique singularity. While fine-tuning this collection of stories, in an oh-so-intimate album where solitude rips away the mask of confidence, Agnès found solace in uniting with other spirits. For 3 songs Tarbes, Jeanne d’Albret and Fum, inspired by an Occitan poem of Louisa Paulin (1888-1944), she invited the young voices of Conservatoire Henri Duparc a building she knows intimately, despite never feeling allowed to enter as a child to breathe the energy of their adolescence into this record. She also collaborated with Lyon’s own François Virot to imbue his delicate rhythms into her work, as well as Belgian guitarist Mocke Depret. Lastly, La Féline entrusted the last production stages to her eternal partner in music, Xavier Thiry, with Stéphane “Alf” Briat on the mixing board. The final piece has a complex tranquility, surrounded by non-verbality, with Jeanne d’Albret, Louisa Paulin and the Pyrénées safeguarding Agnes’ secrets. With the calm reassurance of her metamorphoses, La Féline delivers a slice of silence to her town, serving as both her cradle and theater. Tarbes’ Théâtre des Nouveautés is where Agnès Gayraud, La Féline, has decided to present Tarbes to its residents on October 14, 2022. While “nouveautés” evokes newness, this theater is reminiscent of a future which is already outdated, where modernity is only vague and fictional, carrying reminders of French haute-kitsch accordionist Yvette Horner, whose parents were the caretakers of what was then called the Cani Eldorado a bastion of virtue through the 30s, with its lineup of Catholic films. However, by the 60s, it would have become a temple of pornographic cinema. Tarbes, “Les Nouveautés”, end card. In the mid 90s, then 16 years old, Agnès discovered the volatile dust and the ghosts of the past that were hidden in this apostate theater. This phantom bequeathed song the teenager with the gift of her undeniable talent at her first appearance on stage a high school performance of a guitar-laden ballad sung in Spanish, a language her Andalusian mother has infused her with. On October 14, 2022, Agnès returns to the stage, bass in hand and joined by François Virot (drums), Mocke Depret (guitar), Léa Moreau (keyboard) and the Conservatoire de Tarbes singers to perform the album in its entirety

Full Dose kick your door in with this prime selection of cuts from a new name on the label: Tuck Chains. Who is Tuck Chains? Who knows! But with a crew known for their futuristic and dub-inflected sound, "Tapes" manages to take the label to new heights.

Serving as a masterclass in the sacred art of sample chopping, Tuck Chains offers up a platter of instrumentals that wouldn't sound out-of-place coming from LA in the late 2000s. True to its name, FD013 feels like a mixtape in its delivery, but has a depth and refinement that's difficult to find. Instrumental hip hop of this quality may well have disappeared from the underground but Tuck Chains has successfully iterated on a style guaranteed to bring blunted energy.

"Lock Down", the opening track, quickly sets the scene with metallic and saturated drums. Interspersed with surgical sample chops, the track oscillates between lively and chill after an almost musique concrète sounding intro. This contrast between straight and faded becomes a theme of the album, with moments of intensification punctuating the mellow.

Tracks like "Chrome and Glass" balance fizzy snares, rumbling low end and stabby piano hits to take you on a slow motion coastal journey, while "Ewan Hughes-Army" has an erratic and head-nodding feel that demands your attention. Warbly, downtempo tape vibes feature throughout the release, a combination ripe for repeated, couch-bound listens. With this in mind, "Spanish" feels like the perfect closer - the type of track that oozes sun and THC. Let this be the soundtrack to your hazy holiday.

Arriving directly from the plant and mastered by the label's own Lvcchesi, this could well be the beat tape you knew you were missing! "

green vinyl / printed sleeve / 180 grams
Hadone's nine-track LP shares a first glimpse of his immersive 'Things We Never Did' concept.

November 2022 sees the inception of not only Hadone's first ever feature LP but also his artistically driven and expansive label project 'Things We Never Did'. Marking the first release on the imprint, 'What I Was Running From' spans nine individually unique records, including a special collaboration with friend and fellow French producer Askkin. One of the standout breaks tracks on the LP, it was the first track they made together.

A culmination of all things influential in modern underground techno, blending 4x4 raw techno tracks with more spirited melodic pieces, Hadone's debut LP is a telling celebration of several immersive sub-genres combined with his renowned sonic despondency. The result: a careful balance of richly electronic emotional cuts and racy industrialised techno with a gritty minimalist feel. "Not only the music is destined to evolve, but the whole environment that goes with it will be rethought on a recurring basis" adds Jeremy.

Title track 'What I Was Running From' was made after he finally found inspiration after the pandemic and was written in an hour. "I think my best tracks are made fast, as they don't reply in any intention but feelings only, therefore they are natural and reflect my true style" adds Jeremy.

Its fast paced bassline and jittery stabs, give the track a choppy break beat influenced vibe opening the album with true intent. 'What I Was Running from' offers a transcendental eye through the looking glass at a project that incorporates music, a digital interactive universe, a fashion collaboration with precocious
Parisian footwear brand Phileo. A creative collaboration which has resulted in a limited collection of 2 styles, available on both TWND's digital universe and Phileo direct.

For the 1st year designs, graphism by Raphael Clerget "leverages the power of art to underline the importance of saving our relation to time and improve focus." Raphael brings his vision of complexity and darkness through refined aesthetics carried out for the digital universe, label and merchandise.

Meg Baird’s songs are rarely made up of tidy stories. In fact, for Meg, mystery itself is often the
medium. With ‘Furling’, Meg’s fourth album under her own name, she explores the breadth of
her musical fascinations and the environments around them - the edges of memory,
daydreams spanning years, loose ends, loss, divergent paths, and secret conversations under
stars. ‘Furling’ moves through these varied spaces with the slippery, misty cohesiveness of a
dream - guided by an ageless, stirring voice that remains singular and unmistakable.
Since co-founding the beguiling and beautiful Espers in the mid-aughts amid Philadelphia’s
fertile underground music community, Meg’s solo recordings have constituted just a fraction of
her work.
Her first solo LP, the disarmingly out-of-time ‘Dear Companion’ (2007), saw her carve a quiet,
sunlit space away from the flickering swirl of Espers. Since her last solo releases, ‘Seasons on
Earth’ (2011) and ‘Don’t Weigh Down the Light’ (2015), Meg has lent thunderous drumming,
lead vocal, and poetry to Heron Oblivion (Sub Pop) on an album that garnered praise from the
New York Times and made Mojo’s Top Ten Albums Of 2016 list. She collaborated with harpist
Mary Lattimore on the mesmerizingly hazy ‘Ghost Forests’ (2018). She’s played drums with
Philadelphia scuzz-punks Watery Love (In The Red, Richie Records) and explored her deep
familial folk roots in the Baird Sisters (Grapefruit Records). She also contributed her vocal
arrangements to albums from Sharon Van Etten, Kurt Vile, Will Oldham and Steve Gunn, and
toured with Angel Olson, Dinosaur Jr., Bill Callahan, Thurston Moore and Bert Jansch, among
others.
Yet ‘Furling’ is the album that most irreverently explores the span of her work and musical
touchstones. It showcases her natural tether to 1960s English folk traditions. But it also reveals
her deep love for soul balladry, the solitary musings of Flying Saucer Attack and Neil Young
shackled to his piano deep in the foggy pre-dawn, dubby Bristol atmospherics, the melancholy
memory collage of DJ Shadow’s ‘Endtroducing’, and the delicious, Saturday night promise of
St. Etienne.
‘Furling’ was primarily recorded at Louder Studios by Tim Green (Bikini Kill, Nation of Ulysses,
Melvins, Wooden Shjips). Additional piano and vocal recording were captured at Panoramic
Studios in Stinson Beach, CA with Jason Quever (Papercuts). It was mastered in Brooklyn by
Heba Kadry, who mixed Bjork’s ‘Utopia’ and mastered albums for Slowdive, Cass McCombs
and Beach House.
For all its adornments, ‘Furling’ remains deeply intimate. The entire album was performed by
Meg and her long-time collaborator, partner, and Heron Oblivion bandmate Charlie Saufley.
While her prior solo work hinted at more expansive horizons, ‘Furling’ explores the idea of Meg
Baird as a band much more freely. Venturing beyond the musical confines of fingerstyle guitar,
she plays drums, mellotron, organs, synths, and vibraphone over her piano and guitar
foundations. Her distinctive, simultaneously elegiac and uplifting vocals, meanwhile, connect
surreal dream montages, graft sunshine sonics to swooning mediations on romantic solidarity
in trying times, and weave odes to the simple gestures of friendship - and the loss of family and
friends.
This rich sound world makes the songs a varied bunch: ‘Twelve Saints’ mates Pacific sunset
ambience and Pink Floyd pastoral to a meditation on mortality and escape. The infectious and
kinetic ‘Will You Follow Me Home’ contemplates hope and longing through the looking glass of
a Jimmy Miller-era-Stones strut. And in the closing piece, ‘Wreathing Days’, language
disintegrates over tone clusters that feel somewhere between falling and flying.
‘Wreathing Days’ also reveals much about Meg’s mastery of contrast - situating the dear and
delicate adjacent to chaos. And while it’s true that some songs on ‘Furling’ grapple with
humanity’s existential unknowns in stark terms, they primarily revel in the mysteries that hide in
nature and humanity at their most ordinary. ‘Furling’ lives in the notion that whole universes of
experience, enlightenment, elation and ecstasy can bloom in these corners.

One of These Nights occupies an important, unique place in the Eagles' discography given it represents the final album the group made before releasing the bajillion-selling Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975) compilation. The timing is telling. A coming-out party for Glenn Frey and Don Henley's songwriting skills, the studio record – the band's fourth, and its first to hit #1 on the charts – signifies the group's ascent to superstar status. Home to three massive singles (the title track, "Lyin' Eyes," and "Take It to the Limit") and nominated for four Grammy Awards, the quadruple-platinum 1975 effort solidified the Eagles' Southern California-reared sound and made the band a household name.

Mastered from the original analog tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, and limited to 10,000 copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP vinyl box set takes One of These Nights to the limit. And then some. Playing with reference sonics and a practically indiscernible noise floor thanks to MoFi SuperVinyl's special formula, it provides a rich, dynamic, transparent, and three-dimensional view into a release that moved country-rock ahead by leaps and bounds – and paved the way for the Eagles' ascendancy to global superstardom. The opportunity to zero in on the particulars of the Eagles' golden harmonies, distinct vocal timbres, and cohesive interplay has never been better.

Visually, the premium packaging and presentation of the UD1S One of These Nights pressing befit its esteemed status. Housed in a deluxe box, it features beautiful foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendour of the recording. From every angle, this UD1S reissue exists as a curatorial artefact meant to be preserved, touched, and examined. It is made for discerning listeners that prize sound quality and production, and who desire to fully immerse themselves in the art – and everything involved with the album, from the renowned cover art to the meticulous finishes. As much as any Eagles LP, the connection between the imagery and the music and the band on One of These Nights runs deep. No wonder it led to a Grammy Nomination for Best Album Package.

Devised by West Texas artist Boyd Elder, the striking skull-and-feathers themed piece gracing the front of One of These Nights represents where the Eagles have been and where they were headed. Album art director Gary Burden explained: "The cow skull is pure cowboy, folk, the decorations are American Indian-inspired, and the future is represented by the more polished reflective glass beaded surfaces covering the skull." Moreover, Elder had met the group years earlier when Henley and company performed at one of his gallery openings in California. MoFi's UD1S box set allows Elder's vision (and Burden's debossed treatment of the image) to pop and appear as if it was a stand-alone object.

Of course, what's inside the sleeves, and in the grooves, proves equally compelling. Though One of These Nights marks the final appearance of band co-founder Bernie Leadon on an Eagles LP and contains three of his tunes, the record's tremendous success owes to Frey and Henley's timeless contributions. Taking the next step in their maturation and evolution, the pair crafted several songs while living together as roommates in a rented house in which they converted a music room into a recording studio.

The duo's bond and chemistry pulse throughout the record – particularly in the tight arrangements, tasteful instrumental flourishes, and seamless blending of the folk, country, and rock elements. The musical combinations and partnership not only produced the Eagles' first million-selling single (the slow-dancing "Take It to the Limit," co-written with bassist-vocalist Randy Meisner) and the Frey-led cheating classic "Lyin' Eyes," but the famed title track, which nods to the era's nascent disco scene as well as Kenneth Gamble and Leon Huff's Philly soul platters.

Frey named "One of These Nights" as his favorite Eagles composition of all-time; Meisner's high harmonies alone send the track into a galaxy of its own. Speaking of the latter, Leadon's instrumental "Journey of the Sorcerer" ventures into another universe and was soon used by Douglas Adams as the theme to his "The Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy" radio series. Inspiration and creative experimentation also dragged the Eagles into the blues. Another Frey-Henley gem, the self-probing "After the Thrill Is Gone" serves as a response song to B.B. King's signature track and more evidence the band was turning the lens inward for lyrical narratives. Like everything on One of These Nights, the song confirms the Eagles were breathing rare musical air.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Instead of utilizing the industry-standard three-step lacquer process, Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab's new UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) uses only one step, bypassing two processes of generational loss. While three-step processing is designed for optimum yield and efficiency, UD1S is created for the ultimate in sound quality. Just as Mobile Fidelity pioneered the UHQR (Ultra High-Quality Record) with JVC in the 1980s, UD1S again represents another state-of-the-art advance in the record-manufacturing process. MFSL engineers begin with the original master recordings, painstakingly transfer them to DSD 256, and meticulously cut a set of lacquers. These lacquers are used to create a very fragile, pristine UD1S stamper called a "convert." Delicate "converts" are then formed into the actual record stampers, producing a final product that literally and figuratively brings you closer to the music. By skipping the additional steps of pulling another positive and an additional negative, as done in the three-step process used in standard pressings, UD1S produces a final LP with the lowest noise floor possible today. The removal of the additional two steps of generational loss in the plating process reveals tremendous amounts of extra musical detail and dynamics, which are otherwise lost due to the standard copying process. Every conceivable aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the most perfect record album available today.

MoFi SuperVinyl

Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analogue lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world's quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label's engineers hear in the mastering lab.

Producer and multi-instrumentalist Ben Marc, who's emerged as a key figure of London's cutting edge jazz scene, has just announced his debut full length, a follow up to last September's widely acclaimed Breathe Suite EP (heralded by NPR, Pitchfork, The Wire, The Guardian, and more)

Glass Effect is an assured and accomplished 13-track realization of a singular vision that unifies a multitudinous profusion of influences (free-jazz, broken beat, hip-hop, electronica and beyond) into a sublime whole, underscoring the evolution of his quest for a distinctive sound: lambent, low-key, and yet dizzyingly intricate.


It's a rare talent that can link Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood, Ethio-jazz pioneer Mulatu Astatke, Afrofuturists Sun Ra Arkestra, and grime legend Dizzee Rascal, but Marc has long blurred musical worlds and criss-crossed boundaries. One of the reasons that he started writing Glass Effect, says Marc, was going to nightclubs in Ibiza and experiencing the heady sun- dappled euphoria of a summery dancefloor, as well as the beat-driven production of artists like Four Tet, Bonobo, Machinedrum, DJ Shadow, and Madlib.

Milly make songs that simmer and spark. The Los Angeles-based band, led by songwriter Brendan Dyer, finds power in the slow burn: their music carries the tension of a lake’s surface moments before a storm hits, or a cracking pane of glass moments before it shatters. Their debut album, Eternal Ring, is kinetic, physical, and often a little bit volatile — a mixture of emo music and 90s-indebted indie that tastes as if it’s been fermenting for years, feeding on itself until it becomes something new entirely. A profound first full-length statement from Dyer and his closest collaborator, bass player Yarden Erez, it’s a record that takes the anxiety of modern-day America and filters it through a prismatic, powerfully individualistic lens, resulting in something intense, bracing, and deeply modern

Laila Sakini's new album 'Paloma' arrives via Modern Love and is her most striking and ambiguous to date - a pointed and timely meditation on hope and hierarchies that riffs on Zbigniew Preisner's magical "The Double Life of Veronique" score and enduring outsider music tome "The Langley Schools Music Project". Subtly transcendent, fathoms-deep music.

When Laila Sakini's debut album ‘Vivienne’ arrived in 2020, it felt like the record we were waiting for to map out our tangled reactions to an uninvited reality. Never self-consciously strange, it revealed itself slowly and cautiously, like a shadow in the corner of the eye, or an alchemical symbol in a bowl of alphabet spaghetti. This time around Sakini has worked her unique world-building to an even finer point, forming six tracks around a theme that's so close to our heart it's almost beating in time. Initially inspired by Krzysztof Kieślowski's 1991 arthouse classic "The Double Life of Veronique", the cult Polish director's enduring modern fairytale that serves as a cosmic rumination on identity and choice. Detailing two identical women - both singers, both in love - the film lets one live as the other dies, forcing us to consider the implications of art and endurance in the face of life's myriad challenges.

Sakini takes Polish composer Zbigniew Preisner's influential score for the film and uses it as a jumping-off point for ‘Paloma’, bending the more grandiose moments into baroque awkwardness on opening track 'Fluer D'Oranger' and evoking the mood of scene-setting cues 'Weronika' and 'Véronique' on the recorder-led 'The Light That Flickers In The Mirror'. And while Preisner's score zeroed in on the musical virtuosity of the film's lead characters, Sakini reinterprets that as a metaphor for self-discovery. Playing piano, violin, glockenspiel, timbale, recorder, and occasionally singing, Sakini captures a mood of innocence that immediately transports the listener back to simpler times. Her music isn't self-consciously simplistic, but forcing herself to interface with instruments impulsively rather than studiously, her sounds are all heart, no filigree.

In spirit, it reminds us of cult Canadian album "The Langley Schools Music Project", a collection of 1970s recordings of school kids singing rudimentary renditions of pop songs in a school gymnasium. That album's genius was in the bottling of hope and innocence: the feeling of joy from hearing and wholesomely interacting with music that's known and loved without a sense of hierarchy or desire for cultural clout. Sakini subtly subverts this by evoking the amateur spirit in the most bewitching way; instead of sourcing her ideas from Bowie, Fleetwood Mac and the Beach Boys, her stock is the established art canon, and by reforming those sounds she makes an insightful comment on intellectualism and access. European classical music is all too often trapped behind the frosted glass of respectability and assumed skill - craft replaces spirit, and technique replaces soul. By approaching these gestures from a different angle, Sakini softens the edges sonically and intellectually, finding music that bubbles with emotion, and most strikingly - hope.

Her choice of instruments and the way she interacts with them allows us to feel as if we're not only listening but contributing. It's a bottom-up way of absorbing art that's traditionally been top-down, and a reminder that we're all part of the experience, whether we're humming along to the remnants of a theme as it dribbles out of an ear in the shower, or dreaming of spotlights in a parallel life that may or may not be real. Sakini's music is nostalgic in a sense, but nowhere near the buttered popcorn and high-fructose candy migraine of the Netflix/Spotify algorithm generation of regurgitated churn. She makes sounds that remind us of what time and experience may have stolen from us, and how we might recover it.

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Levon Vincent returns with his fourth full-length studio album Silent Cities a striking departure from his previous records. This, his first release experimenting with the cassette format, Silent Cities is a kind of mixtape through more private moods and personal pitches (literally given Levon’s non-standard tunings).

While Levon has always pro
duced dance floor jams with the intention of raising people’s heart rates, Silent Cities began with 72 bpm: his average resting heart rate, and the concept of tuning the music he was making to his own body rather than increasing anything. This brought the tempos down to 72 bpm or even half of that, at 36bpm. Programming the record during the empty cityscape of Berlin lockdowns, this is the first time Levon’s created an album for the home stereo or for headphone listening whilst navigating through a city. A mixtape specialist in his youth; he was always wanted to play with the cassette format. The results are sure to delight any listener, with the ever-present ambient, krautrock, shoegaze, hip-hop and electro influences coming to the foreground on this work.

“I was expanding further along the lines of a surprise favourite from my previous LP, a song called She Likes To Wave To Passing Boats which was not a 4 on-the-floor piece to play in clubs but a more impressionistic piece of music that I wrote to expound some emotions one day” says Levon. “It was a song written using just intonation. I really love how warm the pure 4ths sound, so when working on the new LP Silent Cities I decided to use my own tunings”.

Historically, the use of just intonation has meant that such instruments could sound "in tune" in one key but at the expense of more dissonance in the other keys. None of the songs on Silent Cities use standard Western equal temperament, Levon created his own scale designs coupled with the ancient ratios found in just intonation.

Born in Houston in 1975, Levon’s life changed dramatically when his parents moved their family to New York in 1981, uprooted from what he knew, the shock, the change from Houston to New York at 6 years old, is referred to constantly in Levon’s Musical output over the years. Levon's family moved houses in and around NYC from 1981 -2010, never more than a mile or two from the WTC. He lived on the Lower East Side during his teenage years and early 20s. This time period and this locale are also a big theme recurrent in his music as he tries to convey how the "downtown" lifestyle and culture-melding affected him so much at a tender age. He cut his teeth working in record shops around lower Manhattan, and while working at the Halcyon Record shop in Brooklyn he (alongside DJ Jus-Ed) was instrumental in creating the wave that came to be known as the "NYC House Renaissance" circa 2010. During the Y2K years he studied 20th C post-minimalism at Purchase college of New York under James McElwaine (who tangentially produced Man Parrish’s Self-Titled proto-hip-hop debt LP). Levon was fortunate to study theory with avant-garde composer Dary John Mizelle and orchestration under conductor Joel Thome. He undertook masterclasses with Philip Glass and also served as intern for John Kilgore, engineer for Steve Reich, where he was present for notable mix sessions such as “Violin Phase.”

Post-minimalism clearly remains an influence not to mention the early sampler stars of 80s freestyle and synth pop. Mixing such far-reaching influences is something Levon executes tremendously well. The first track Everlasting Joy moves at a head nodding 96 BPM tempo, reflecting formative influences like Paul Hardcastle’s Rainforest or Art Of Noise’s Moments in Love. “Those types of songs were a big eye opener for me as a youth, because it was where I realised songs in popular culture didn’t have to be kept to just 3 minutes, and they didn’t require vocals either. So, Everlasting Joy is a song with that intention, one that might be radio-friendly, despite the long arrangement and without vocals. You could say it was inspired by 107.5 in NY because that was a station I listened to a lot in the 1980’s.”

The majority of demos on Silent Cities were recorded before Covid-19 hit the world - when Levon had found a studio space outside of home in his adopted city of Berlin. It was a career first - working on music outside the bedroom. This riding the train or bicycling ‘going to work’ in Berlin opened up a new mood in his music, using the time back and forth to be inspired - commuting as an NYC transplant who still feels as a tourist in Berlin, with a pair of headphones, looking out the window on the train, or stopping on bridges and parking his bike to enjoy Berlin's skyline and horizon. Then, the pandemic struck and “work” came to a halt. Levon had recorded so much material during that year in the studio out of house it seemed like an inflection point for him to lighten the burden of the possessions he was carrying.

“People close to me have watched me give away synths and hardware regularly and I have given away my record collection every few years for my whole life. As a struggling artist in my 20s who had worked in record stores that whole time, I learned that moving constantly with 12k records just wasn't the way to live. So, in light of the pandemic, I set up a shop online, and sold all my music equipment. I also created a separate shop for all my sneakers and clothes. Easy come, Easy go. This provided me with a slow drip type of income that carried me quite well through the pandemic and it allowed me to focus on my own art and music. Getting rid of all my possessions felt like a weight being lifted from my shoulders and I was able to stay the course and remain committed to the music. I needed a further 2 years to mix and arrange the LP. If it weren’t for the pandemic, I would not been able to make this type of LP, so in light of everything, I was able to turn a depressing time in to something lasting and musically very positive.”

You can hear how his approach to a cassette release retains the "Medium is the Message." ethos. Silent Cities is a spooling, warm piece about life memories and embodiment.

From their new millennium rise to MTV superstardom through pop-punk’s modern resurgence that has introduced their iconic, multi-platinum sound to new audiences around the world, SIMPLE PLAN have been an indelible part of pop culture for more than two decades because they’ve never lost sight of what got them there in the first place: their fans.It’s this same sense of mutual respect that’s fully on display on “The Antidote,” the first single from their sixth studio album, HARDER THAN IT LOOKS., their first new music since 2016’s Taking One For The Team, and the most authentically Simple Plan album since 2004’s Still Not Getting Any. Free agents for the first time in their storied career, the band kept their circle tight during the recording process, enlisting longtime songwriting partners like We The Kings’ Travis Clark and producers Brian Howes and Jason Van Poederooyen (who worked on the band’s 2011’s album Get Your Heart On!) and Zakk Cervini (blink-182, Good Charlotte). From the skyscraping choruses of “Congratulations” and “Ruin My Life” (ft. Sum 41’s Deryck Whibley) to the unflinching poignancy of the album-closing “Two,” which instantly ranks alongside “Perfect” and “Untitled (How Could This Happen To Me?)” as one of the band’s best closers ever, HARDER THAN IT LOOKS certainly respects Simple Plan’s storied career – and the same spirit that helped the band sell 10 million albums worldwide – without being overtly reverent. The album-opening “Wake Me Up (When This Nightmare’s Over)” is a cathartic rush of familiarity and freshness – not to mention a bit lyrically prescient, as the COVID-19 pandemic hit shortly after the band wrapped the album. (“We certainly didn’t set out to write a pandemic album,” Bouvier says with a laugh. “It’s funny how some of the songs might seem like that, though.”) There are even spiritual successors to early material, like the glass-half-full skate-punk-leaning “Best Day Of My Life,” quite a 180 for a band who put a song called “The Worst Day Ever” on their genre-defining, Platinum-selling 2002 debut No Pads, No Helmets...Just Balls. But you won’t find an ounce of fat on the 10-song album, no obvious plays to recapture the radio waves they claimed in the early aughts with smash hits like “I’d Do Anything,” “I’m Just A Kid” and “Addicted.”

As three souls plunge down from the heavens, death and destruction can be felt hanging in the air like a foul stench. Red clouds swirl around a black sun that never sets and an erratic clock ticks off-tempo, moving faster and slower before rewinding and starting anew.

“Let me paint you a picture…” vocalist Mikey Arthur sings, welcoming listeners with a dramatic opening scene. It takes a skillful guide to navigate the darkest depths of hell. And, as The Gloom In The Corner depict in their second full-length album Trinity, death is merely the beginning of the series of chilling adventures

Purposefully aligning their song count with unlucky number thirteen – a reoccurring symbol in the ever-unfolding Gloom Cinematic Universe or GCU – it comes as little surprise to longtime fans that each of the Australian quartet’s enticing tracks intertwine to form an interlocking tale; this time centered around the appropriately labeled unholy trinity.

Comprised of previously deceased characters Rachel Barker, Ethan Hardy, and Clara Carne, the group’s bloody battle is woven throughout the album as the anti-heroes determinedly claw their way back to Earth from the Rabbit Hole dimension, slashing, shooting, and extinguishing anyone who dares to oppose their quest. Yet, for the Girl of Glass, Ronin, and Queen of Misanthropy, there is clearly more to the story than what can be contained within a single package.

Projecting a wide and complex web of lore, plot twists, and tongue and cheek humor, frontman Mikey Arthur, guitarist Matt Stevens, bassist Paul Musolino, and drummer Nic Haberle, have been producing highly detailed concept releases since their formation. And, consistently filling in more missing pieces of the puzzle with every body of work, the band equate each new record to a fresh season of The Umbrella Academy dropping on the streaming service of your choice. Because, just as a great TV series captivates viewers with its music and storytelling, the quartet’s work provides a complete experience designed to allow fans to check in with their favorite characters, all the while enjoying a cinematic new soundtrack.

For those just joining the GCU, as well as those looking for a quick refresh, 2016 debut album Fear Me introduced listeners to main protagonists Julian “Jay” Hardy, a Section 13 agent consumed by anger over his girlfriend Rachel’s death, and Jay’s gloom (later known as Sherlock Adaliah Bones), a demonic entity who at times takes over Jay’s body as a host vessel. 2017 EP Homecoming tells the tale of Jay’s brother Ethan, a war veteran suffering from PTSD, who upon discovering his brother’s struggle, kills himself as part of a Dante-style rescue mission to bring Rachel back to life. In 2019 EP Flesh and Bones, we’re introduced to Clara Carne, a past witness to one of Jay and Sherlock’s crimes, who instead of taking revenge, began a twisted love story with Sherlock, only to be murdered by his forced hand. And 2020’s Ultima Pluvia EP where we finally learn of Sherlock’s past as an ancient warlord under the tyrannical King Baphicho, and see Sherlock and Jay’s deaths ushered in by Section 13 opponent and New Order leader Elias DeGraver and his gloom Atticus Encey.

After 2016’s Fear Me, the band admit that their original intention was to jump straight into the events of Trinity before pivoting to create Homecoming, Flesh and Bones, and Ultima Pluvia. However, upon reflection, primary storywriter Mikey Arthur believes that pushing the timeline back actually provided greater opportunity for the group to properly flesh out the songs and plotlines for their sophomore studio record.

Indeed, while Trinity re-introduces the three central “heroes” of this new arc, it’s important to understand that while familiar, the characters are not carbon copies of who they were earlier in the story. And neither is the band who brought them to life.

Fully embracing the weird and whacky has never been a struggle for The Gloom In The Corner. Rather, it’s together with this attitude that the group come away with special moments such as the fascinating old and new dynamic between neighboring tracks “Red Clouds” – a song whose initial version predates the formation of The Gloom In The Corner as an official band – and “Gravity” in which a demo intended for future material was adjusted to fit the sonic drop.

Mirroring this evolution in the band’s musical approach, a sense of growth can also be seen projected in the characters and story that the quartet chronicle across the thirteen tracks.

Classifying their individual sound as an intricate form of “cinema or theater-core” due to the depth and breadth of their musical approach, features, samples, symphonic elements, and conceptual nature, The Gloom In The Corner continue to prove that they’re more than just a simple concept band.

In fact, similar to character theme music in movies and video games, the group seamlessly play off their diverse sonic story in a variety of ways. Continuing to breathe new life into older staples from their catalog, the quartet reworked their infamous “Oxymøron” breakdown from Fear Me into an impactful moment in Trinity’s “Nor Hell A Fury” and sprinkled audio easter eggs of this sort all throughout their new music for fans to discover.

Listeners are also brought further into the world of the GCU with the help of what The Gloom In The Corner call their “casting process.” Like picking actors for a musical, the band meticulously selected eleven different vocal features and several additional voice actors to bring the album and characters to life. Described as a 50/50 split between notable talents such as Ryo Kinoshita (Crystal Lake), Joe Badolato (Fit For An Autopsy), and Lauren Babic (Red Handed Denial), as well as talented friends and family like Elijah Witt (Cane Hill) and Mikey’s sister Amelia Duffield, each featured artist brought their own touch and realistic spark to the characters they portrayed.

For in the end, as much as Trinity and it’s cast live within the confines of their own supernatural worlds, themes such as falling out of love (Gatekeeper), battling depression (Obliteration Imminent), and standing behind women’s empowerment (Nor Hell A Fury), are ones that many can relate to or understand. And, while most individuals may avoid drowning their woes by way of transforming into full-on egotistical murderers like the Queen and King of Misanthropy and the gang, The Gloom In The Corner have illustrated that time and time again, life’s a little more fun when you can crack a smile. Taking a page from the trinity’s playbook: try to avoid the end of the world. But if you can’t…at least spend it with a killer soundtrack.

WRWTFWW Records couldn't be happier to announce the release of Yutaka Hirose’s never-heard before 11-track collection TRACE: Sound Design Works 1986-1989, available on double LP and double CD, with liner notes from the artist.

TRACE is a collection of 11 unreleased tracks produced by Yutaka Hirose between 1986 and 1989, during the Sound Process Design sessions, right after the release of his classic Soundscape series album Nova. Sound Process Design was Satoshi Ashikawa's label, home of the Wave Notation trilogy (Hiroshi Yoshimura’s Music For Nine Postcards, Satsuki Shibano's Erik Satie 1866-1925 and Satoshi Ashikawa's Still Way). Following Wave Notation, Sound Process Design worked with museums, cafes and bars to create site-specific soundscapes, starting with the sound design of the Kushiro Museum. Yutaka Hirose was called to work on these projects.

Rather than simply providing pre-recorded compositions, Hirose sought to create a "sound scenery". To achieve this, he participated in the conception of the space and paid particular attention to the accidental combination of sounds by placing the speakers, using a multi-sound source, and following the concept of "sculpturing time through sound".

The composer explains: "sculpturing time through sound means that time, the space itself, the sound played in it, and the audience all become one sculpture. It is close to the idea of a Japanese tea ceremony where you use all of your 5 (or 6) senses to taste the tea."

TRACE: Sound Design Works 1986-1989 is divided into two parts. The Reflection segment is based on an ambient soundscape. It narrates "a sleep that starts with the sound of water droplets at dawn and slowly disappears into darkness" and feels like a natural and soothing progression of Nova. It was played in entrance halls, at events, in cafes and bars. The Voice from Past Technology segment expresses the dream world born out of that sleep and is based on what Yukata Hirose calls hardcore ambient, environmental music with a noise approach. It was played in museums and science centers.

All in all, TRACE is a crucial addition to every Japanese environmental music fan’s collection, alongside Midori Takada’s Through The Looking Glass, Hiroshi Yoshimura’s Green, Satoshi Ashikawa’s Still Way, Motohiko Hamase’s Notes of Forestry, Inoyamaland’s Danzindan-Pojidon, and Yutaka Hirose’s very own Nova.

It's been three years since Jessie Ware released her second album Tough Love. Described by Pitchfork as an album that moves into the territory of real, messy love' Tough Love was the critically-embraced follow up to Jessie's landmark debut Devotion in 2012. Signed to the influential London label PMR, Jessie's deep roots into UK music saw collaborations with SBTRKT and Disclosure bear fruit before her acclaim reached international levels. With both albums now gold-certified in the UK, a million albums sold worldwide and her influence undeniable, Jessie has spent the last three years working on her third album Glasshouse. The album includes multiple Radio 1 & 2 playlist singles and Jessie is confirmed for Sunday Brunch and Later with Jools around album release.

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Acid bass, slow funk and cosmic energy make for a mind expanding trip in the Liquid Canoe.
Load up on edibles, make it a macro-dose and let the music lead the way.

Whether you’re hard at work on a Hamburg allotment, basking in the heat of a Balinese beach or enjoying the cool waters of the Salish Sea, remember that the same sky stretches over all of us.
And if you forget your finger for a minute and soak in the heavenly beauty instead, you might just catch the cosmic vibrations of Liquid Canoe, the latest members of the Growing Bin family.

A loose ensemble, Liquid Canoe is the brainchild of Wolfgang Matthes, a lost Angelino who’s swapped the rush and push of a mega city for the space of the Pacific Northwest - and listening to this eight track offering, you’ll realise that space is the place. Armed with an array of vintage synths and programmed rhythms, Wolfgang sketched out a slew of inter dimensional transmissions, inspired by the commune electronics and space rock of 70s Germany and inhabited by the spirit of the boogie. Inviting friends to drop by and lend their own instrumental skill, Wolfgang quickly turned Liquid Canoe into a true collaboration. Finalised in a converted stable on Galiano Island, the LP is a perfect marriage of the electronic and organic, shimmering arps and spheric synth bass intertwined with American primitive guitar, nuanced hand percussion and glassy chimes. As this mind expanding collection stretches out towards infinity, you’ll hear Floyd-ian funk, cosmic dub, tangerine daydreams and micro-dosed ambience, all imbued with the memories of New York lofts, Bay Area warehouses, skyscraping pines or the world wide web of fungi. Liquid Canoe taking you on an oarsome trip.