Поиск:so what music

Los Angeles alt-punks Death Lens return with What"s Left Now?, an album that feels like a jolt of clarity after a year that never seemed to slow down. Fresh off touring with Militarie Gun, they dove into the studio with producer mixer Zach Tuch (Knocked Loose, Touché Amoré) to craft their first new music since 2024"s Cold World. The result is a set of songs that coil hooky guitar lines around lyrics about taking stock of what you have, what"s been taken from you, and confronting what remains without any sugar coating. Death Lens have always played with contrast: ferocity disguised by swagger, volatility wrapped in melody. Onstage, they transform that tension into something communal-cathartic enough to leave rooms wrecked, connective enough to leave people changed. Once a crew of partydriven garage punks, they"ve sharpened their voice into something broader and more urgent, speaking on life in heavily policed neighborhoods, immigration reform, and the responsibility to lift up the communities that raised them. What"s Left Now? pushes that vision forward, framing resilience not as a slogan but as a lived philosophy: one world, one community, one band refusing to stand still. Death Lens is comprised of Bryan Torres (vocals), Jhon Reyes (guitar, backing vocals), Tony Rangel (drums), and Ernie Gutierrez (guitar).

Cathartic avant-rock, literate DIY folk & experimental composition exploring displacement, love, climate change, belonging & the places we call home - RIYL Jim O’Rourke, Richard Youngs, This Heat, Richard Dawson, Flying Nun. ‘Real Home’ is the new album by the Manchester-born, London-based artist Kiran Leonard. His sixth album proper (not including innumerable tour-only CD-Rs and short-run cassettes), since his precocious debut in 2013, ‘Real Home’ finds Leonard invigorated by inspiration and experience, making passionate, literate, and mercurial music that explores displacement, love, memory, climate change, connections to home and more. Encompassing songs recorded after moving to South London, ‘Real Home’ reflects on ideas of belonging and domesticity through folkloric, stream-of-consciousness songwriting. Across nine tracks, Leonard traces lived impressions of the household and the city, expressing sentiments of dislocation, alienation and stasis, but contentment too. Infusing the avant-rock effervescence, terraced dynamics and visionary lyricism of his music with what he defines as a greater sense of openness, Leonard is as versatile, fervent and imaginative as ever on ‘Real Home’, yet his music is somehow more intimate, affecting, and acutely expressive. Shaped by dual considerations of simplicity and formalism, ‘Real Home’ is by turns beautiful, allusive, and ruminative, an album on which Leonard considers what his songs have resembled in the past and what they mean now. In recent years, Leonard has crafted eloquent chamber music inspired by the likes of James Joyce and Clarice Lispector (‘Derevaun Seraun’), responded to contemporary politics and communication breakdown in the digital age (‘Western Culture’), and compiled solo works and ensemble recordings for a longform ode to Jonas Mekas and to one of Leonard’s enduring themes; home (‘Trespass On Foot’). On ‘Real Home’, Leonard reiterates this abiding thematic focus yet ascends to new, different heights, in music of cathartic delicacy and dissonance where all the myriad dimensions of his work to date seem to crystallize. There are sinuous songs about struggle and defying the pace of city life through drift and diversion (‘Pass Between Houses’), stirring songs of intense feeling and crescendo, described as a form of speculative detective fiction (‘Theatre for Change’). There are touching solo piano ballads (the title track), symbolic contentions with carbon capture and climate change (‘Utopia of Bog’), modes of experimental minimalism (‘Void Attentive’), and other profuse feats of compositional range, embroidered with wild tendrils of narrative and lyrical depth. A record to pore over, and get lost in. Exemplifying the vast aesthetic scope of Leonard’s music, lead single ‘My Love, Let’s Take The Stage Tonight’ is inspired by country lodestar Hank Williams, Russian poetry and a late period love poem by William Carlos Williams. Yet for Leonard, the song signals a sense of accessible materiality, and is the product of a more linear approach to writing songs: “My imitation of the great Hank Williams, in spirit if not in substance…This is one of the best efforts on Real Home at a song-as-object. Looking at it now I realise I was trying to write a song that made itself known as a song to the listener, and I wonder whether that’s crucial if you want a song to transcend its context. And that this is either accomplished through a total openness – by being inviting, by laying the tricks of the song out plain to see, as Williams and his many ghostwriters did so well – or by adopting a knowing aloofness, positioning oneself against the listener but letting it be known that that’s what it’s doing. In this song I try both, but mostly the former: as in, I wanted to write a song where every line follows on from the next.” Imbuing the endlessly elaborate and inventive qualities of his music with a newfound streak of candid, clear-cut melodicism, Leonard has reached a special place in his artistry, on a record that feels familial, and expresses closeness. Assembled with affiliates including Lauren Auder, Otto Willberg, Jasper Llewellyn (caroline), Tom Hardwick-Allan (Shovel Dance Collective), Magda McLean (caroline, The Umlauts), Alex Mckenzie (caroline, Shovel Dance Collective), Isabelle Thorn (Dear Laika) & more, the recording process had a significant influence on the subject matter of ‘Real Home’, in sessions defined by close-knit camaraderie and artistic eccentricity: “The theme of the home obviously recurs throughout the record; the album was mostly recorded in domestic spaces with friends, and the name of the album is Real Home. I like the qualifier ‘real’, like you’re getting past the cloak of the word and towards the thing-itself…also nearly all the percussion in this record was recorded on items from my dad’s shed (jam jars, sandpaper, blocks of wood, etc). Real home record!” ‘Real Home’, like anything by Kiran Leonard, is a record of dazzling multiplicity. Yet it’s a companionable prospect with a central premise; a collection of songs where listeners old and new can find a home. An album led by a scene; of Leonard standing at the threshold, ready to welcome you inside. “Exceptional songs that linger” - The Guardian // “An autodidact of amazing talent & energy” – Pitchfork // “A ridiculous amount of talent…confrontational, celebratory, provocative or perverse – he manages all of these emotions & more” - The Quietus /

In discotheques and dark rooms across Europe, Boys’ Shorts have earned the trust of the queer and wider clubbing communities as generous stewards of a timeless sound that, like themselves, never stops moving forward. The duo of Vangelis and Tareq initially met at an underground club in their native Greece. Sensing a rare sonic connection, the pair became friends, forming Boys’ Shorts to meet again and again, travelling from their adopted cities of Thessaloniki and London to appear as far afield as Berlin’s Panorama Bar and New York’s Le Bain, as well as supporting Goldfrapp and Hot Chip on tour. Their motivation? In their own words, “we make people dance!”

Following years of gradual, thoughtful studio sessions, and EP releases on tastemaking electronic labels including Phantasy Sound and Live At Robert Johnson, Boys’ Shorts establish their own imprint, ALL SORTS, in order to deliver a fantastically ambitious debut album, ‘What Does It Take To Make These Men Happy?’

The LP opens with the grandiose, cosmic vista of ‘The Space Between Us’, a classic passage of strings and synthesis, before the shared Boys’ Shorts vision falls back to earthier territory with deep groove of ‘Let’s Fall In Love’, mixing universal sentiment with a patient vision of human potential and the voice of Greek electronic pioneer, K.BHTA. ‘Come’ aligns with NYC’s Michael Cignarale, offering an excitable invitation to the mind and body sculpted by the way of a throbbing, warehouse-sized statement of nineties house sensuality. Channeling heroes Lowe and Tennant at their most introspective, ‘Short Life’ maintains the dance, yet dares to ask, “what if the parties aren’t enough anymore… Can you ask for something more?”

Out of the pet shop and straight into the strobe lights, ‘Disco Romantica’ makes true on the promise of its title, a lovelorn monologue giving way and slipping into rave stabs and whirring synthesis that looks forward to a memorable, emotionally-charged night ahead. Underpinning this feeling of anticipation, ‘Going Out Hoping To See You’ introduces the voice of Justin Strauss to Boys’ Shorts' musical world. A certified icon of club culture, spinning from The Mudd Club to modern day DJ booths, Strauss’s generation spanning experience of nightlife leans into the fundamentals of human connection and the pleasure of musical discovery, wrapped in irresistible chug.

Another transformative figure in club music, Fischerspooner’s own Casey Spooner dips into French for the Motorik cyber sleaze of ‘MECANIMAUX’, their own vocals pitching up and down with playful EBM abandon. ‘Montage’ offers a different kind of composition, conjuring an ecstatic club banger that finds inspiration in nineties indie rock motifs alongside the rave scene, while ‘Run’ promises to blow out sound systems before its weighty electro bassline succumbs to waves of glistening synths.

Such bombast into beauty perfectly sets up the record’s blissful conclusion; ‘The Stars Are Out For You’ is electro-pop so delicate as to heal aching feet (and mend broken hearts), while offering the final tender moments of the album as a form of tribute on ‘Untitled (For Mitsi)’. It’s a thoughtful ending to a thrilling trip through a shared passion for electronic and pop music in all its glorious potential. What does it take to make these men happy? It’s a pleasure to find out.

2026 Repress

Akusmi is the project moniker of French-born, London based composer, multi-instrumentalist and producer Pascal Bideau, who signs to the new Tonal Union imprint for the release of his album 'Fleeting Future.' With its hallucinatory, genre-defying blend of minimalism, cosmic jazz and Fourth World influences, and in its quest for optimism in the face of unknown and limitless possibility. 'Fleeting Future' stands apart as an inventive and inspirational debut.

The creation of the album's richly colourful and multi-layered sound world was originally inspired by Bideau's journey to Indonesia, where he immersed himself in traditional Gamelan and gong music. Many of the themes, motifs and melodies on 'Fleeting Future' seed from the 'Slendro' scale, one of the essential tuning systems used in Gamelan. However it is not musical scales, but scales as in the size or extent of things that most fascinates Bideau, specifically he explains; "the compelling way things dramatically change when you shift from any given scale to another."

The album connects directly to nature and the wider world in its evocation of perceptive shifts and transitions from microscopic to macro scale, as evidenced by the opening title track 'Fleeting Future', on which a simple dotted saxophone line morphs and billows into synths, brass and strings, indicating the musical voyage that lies ahead. Like the start of a journey or adventure it is full of anticipation, its arborescent growth conveying the optimism of the unknown and of limitless possibility. The album centrepiece 'Neo Tokyo' is a vibrating, ebullient mass of colliding elements which feels like zooming in to the electron level, as it teeters on the edge of chaos. The title is a reference to Katsuhiro Otomo's Akira, a dizzying work of art set in a sprawling futuristic metropolis.

'Yurikamome', meanwhile, is an imaginary soundtrack inspired by Bideau's yearning to visit Japan which he fuels by watching Youtube videos of drives and rides through Japanese landscapes and cities. "It's amazing" he adds, "that we have the ability to access almost anywhere in the world and see what it's like, that people document it and upload it. It's never going to be any replacement for the real thing, but with places that really touch you, it works." The track is named after a Japanese monorail train line which rides from Shinbashi to Toyosu, a last journey that feels like a new beginning.


'Fleeting Future' was composed and recorded by Bideau between 2017 and 2019 in his North London studio and features additional contributions recorded in Berlin by Florian Juncker (trombone), Ruth Velten (saxophone) and regular collaborator Daniel Brandt of Brandt Brauer Frick (drums / electronic percussion). Having been living through uncertain times, one thing that keeps spiralling into the unknown is the future, about which Bideau leaves us with a final thought:

"The future is fascinating: It is constantly readjusting to new events. I feel we left a linear approach to the future to enter an arborescent one where all the data and information we have about what could happen is exponentially ever-growing. Following a branch might allow you to glimpse into what it may become, but the evolution of the whole picture might very well render the prediction totally obsolete, and even meaningless. In that sense, there is not one future but innumerable ones all cancelling each other. That's what makes it fleeting."

Death Is Not The End collaborate with Uzbek label Maqom Soul to deliver an LP counterpart to last year's mixtape of the same title, compiling specially picked & fully licensed individual belters from the ex-soviet studios of Central Asian republics between 1978 and 1989 - incl. Uzbek, Tajik, Kurdish & Uyghur artists pulling traditional folk motifs together with pop & rock and psych elements.

"These recordings do not form a smooth or coherent history. They feel more like a sequence of discoveries made at different moments and in different circumstances. Songs and instrumental pieces that once lived inside specific contexts radio broadcasts, philharmonic programs, touring routes now sit side by side, revealing hidden connections as well as clear fractures between them.

Nasiba Abdullaeva appears here as a voice from the end of an era. Trained within a conservatory system, she worked inside the format of the Soviet pop song while filling it with melodic logic that did not come from Moscow or Leningrad. Her voice is soft and sustained, shaped by Eastern melisma, and it never functions as decoration. Even in tightly structured songs there is a sense of resistance, an effort to preserve a musical language rooted in Uzbek tradition rather than fully adapted to an all Union standard.

The ensemble Sintez, later renamed Navo, represents a different path. Beginning as a student rock group, the band was gradually absorbed into the official VIA system with all its limitations and compromises. Yet it was precisely within those boundaries that Sintez and Navo developed a recognizable sound. Electric guitars and jazz rock harmonies do not overpower the folk material but remain in tension with it. Their recordings feel like negotiations between what the musicians wanted to play and what they were allowed to perform.

The Tajik ensemble Gulshan reflects an institutional approach carried to a high professional level. Formed under television and radio structures, the group treated folk material almost as a written score. Carefully constructed arrangements, close attention to orchestration, and restrained use of pop techniques define their sound. There is less spontaneity here, but a strong sense of discipline and structure, where national melody becomes part of a carefully controlled sonic framework.

Koma Wetan occupies a very different space. Formed in the 1970s, this Kurdish rock group approached poetry and folklore as tools of cultural assertion. Their psychedelic rock never feels like a stylistic borrowing. Instead it functions as a contemporary vessel for language and themes that might otherwise have remained unheard. Even today these recordings sound fragile and stubborn at the same time.

The Uyghur ensemble Yashlik, closely connected to a musical drama theatre, operated somewhere between stage performance and popular music. Their songs are built on folk melodies but shaped for wide audiences. What emerges is a constant attempt to preserve the recognizability of Uyghur musical identity without freezing it in a folkloric frame. Yashlik's music exists in a state of balance between representation and development.

Digging Central Asia does not attempt to establish hierarchies or offer a single wayof listening. Names and dates matter less than the sound itself. Tape noise, abrupt transitions, and unexpected timbres remain part of the material rather than flaws to be corrected. This music existed at the crossroads of multiple routes geographic, cultural, and ideological. Heard today in a new context, it no longer feels peripheral. Instead it stands as a reminder that the history of popular music is far more fragmented, layered, and polyphonic than it is usually allowed to be."

In Sheep’s Clothing announces the long-awaited vinyl pressing of Marc Leclair’s beloved 2005 album Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes. The album will also be available on streaming for the first time via Community Music Group.

For years after Marc Leclair released Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes, he heard from listeners who had lived with the record in an unusually intimate way. Many described how the music became part of the emotional landscape of the months leading to birth. “I never expected that,” Leclair says. “Many women told me they listened to the record throughout their pregnancies. They said it made a real difference, that it helped them. It became more than just a record.”

First issued on CD in the early 2000s, Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes (Music for Three Pregnant Women) now returns in a new edition from In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi, appearing on vinyl for the first time as a double LP. The record is being pressed in Detroit at Archer Record Pressing, the historic plant behind deep-groove classics by Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, Underground Resistance, UR’s Jeff Mills, and J Dilla.

Listeners who know the Montreal-based Leclair through his better-known work as Akufen might be surprised by the tone here. During the same years he was shaping the intricate micro-sampling tracks that made Akufen a cult figure on labels including Perlon, Force Inc. and Trapez, Leclair was quietly developing this far more personal project. The meticulous craftsmanship remained the same, though the focus shifted from the hyper-detailed cut-up rhythms of his dance records toward something slower and more atmospheric. “I always compare my work to a jeweler,” Leclair says. “It’s really very precise. I’m a bit of a detail freak. I can spend hours or days on just one phrase in one song. Everything has to be perfectly put together.”

The project began almost accidentally. A few members of Leclair’s circle became pregnant nearly simultaneously, including one who had long believed she couldn’t conceive. The first track he recorded for the project wasn’t meant to advance a larger concept, he says. “It was meant to highlight the fact that three of my closest friends became pregnant at exactly the same time.”

Leclair was already a father with a three-year-old daughter, so the emotional terrain of early parenthood was familiar. Gradually the idea expanded. “I began thinking, why not make a whole album that celebrates this and also follows the entire pregnancy, the nine months,” he says. The music developed piece by piece, including a track originally commissioned by the Berlin experimental duo Rechenzentrum that would later become the album’s opening movement.

Nearly seven years passed between the first composition and the finished album, and the music mirrors the strange arithmetic of pregnancy itself. What begins as a single idea multiplies outward, sounds layering and branching until the album feels less like a sequence of compositions than a living process unfolding in time. “I work very slowly,” Leclair says. “Everything has to be something I’m completely behind. I never want to rush anything. I want things to come naturally.” Across its 72 minutes, the album blossoms with the patience of a long meditation on time, growth and emergence.

When Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes first appeared via Mutek, it circulated quietly but steadily. Critics who discovered it later recognized its unusual scope. In a 2006 Pitchfork review, Mark Richardson gave the record an 8.1, calling “150e Jour” “an unfailingly gorgeous and tightly sequenced quilt of guitar and piano samples reminiscent of Tangerine Dream,” and describing “85e Jour” as infused with “viscous pop ambient drift, the gauzy synth pads ebbing and flowing with rhythm.” Boomkat described the album as “a majestic opus from a producer that's always promised so much — here delving into a panoramic construction of almost visibly radiant music that works so beautifully through each and every second of its 72 minute lifespan.”

The new In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi edition finally presents the record in the format Leclair long imagined. “I always thought that record deserved a vinyl edition,” he says. Spread across two LPs, the music now has room to unfold at its natural pace. More than twenty years after it first appeared, Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes remains what it was from the start: a carefully shaped meditation on transformation and the quiet miracle of life beginning.

Roland Leesker reimagines a House Classic with Vinyl-Only Cover of ‘What You Need’.
Definitive Recordings presents a special vinyl-only release as Roland Leesker delivers his cover version of ‘What You Need’, the seminal house anthem originally released in 1990 by Soft House Company. This release is a respectful homage to one of house music’s defining records, crafted for DJs and collectors alike.
On the Original Mix, Leesker stays close to the spirit of Soft House Company’s classic, faithfully honoring the original arrangement but properly pumping.
On the flip, Leesker presents his ‘Mysterious Eastern Force Edit’, an expansive, eleven-minute journey designed for deep dancefloor moments. While retaining the essence of the original, this version introduces a more energetic bassline before weaving in a subtle 303 acid line, bridging different eras of house music history into one hypnotic, evolving arrangement.
This vinyl-only release is a tribute to the legacy of house music — respectful, powerful, and made to be played loud on a proper sound system.

Ayô Dele — which means "joy comes to me" in Yoruba — is neither a slogan nor a promised miracle. It is a breath of fresh air. That of an album born in the interstices, where the word find their way between shadow and light, between the disorder of the worldand the impulse to be .
At the heart of the project, Julien Gervaix and Damien Tesson, multi-instrumentalist beatmakers, share a groove language that is both dense and airy, where every detail breathes and finds its place.
With background in Afrobeat, Dub, Funk, Soul, Roots Reggae, and Electronic Music, they treat the studio to be their playground. Their music is a hybrid groove that speaks to the body: round or bouncing basslines, brass oscillating between melodic warmth and funk energy, textured guitars, arpeggios, enveloping Rhodes, clavinet that slides, presses, and embraces. Everything comes together with precision and flexibility, in an inventive and warm composition. The meeting of their experiences and sensibilities gives rise to open, generous music, made for dancing and vibration.
With Ayô Dele , Ireke is embarking on a new chapter: the duo is refining its style,allowing the voices to breathe. The groove remains the driving force but opens up to intimacy. This intimacy is carried by two unique female voices: Nayel Hoxo, a Beninese-Nigerian singer/rapper, and Agnès Hélène, who has already made a name for herself on Tropikadelic with "Petit a Petit". They don't sing side-by-side; they coexist, respond to each other, and sometimes intersect. But each follows her own path: Nayel, with the power of her words in Yoruba, offers songs of elevation, healing, and resistance — a light born in the cracks Agnès explores these cracks themselves: what wavers within us, what reinvents itself in bonds, glances, and gestures.
For one track, Olivya (Dowdelin) joins this dialogue in Martinican Creole. Her sunny soul sketches the contours of gentle resistance and celebrates rediscovered light.
Ayô Dele embodies a quiet yet radical determination: to smooth nothing over, to let plurality, contradictory emotions, and mixed heritage live. An album that moves forward through vibrations, that speaks of emancipation without slogans, love without clichés, anger without uproar.
Two women, two inner worlds: a sensitive complicity, a shared breath. Music that seeks not effect, but echo, weaving a living soundscape between reinvented traditions and contemporary textures. An alchemy faithful to the spirit of Underdog Records, where music unites and brings people together. Ayô Dele : "joy comes to me." A lucid joy, crossed by shadows, patiently regained. Music that welcomes, releases, gives, and in doing so, makes us feel good.
In a saturated world, Ayô Dele chooses nuance: transmission without emphasis, joy without naivety. An album that vibrates more than it demonstrates, that connects more than it imposes, and which, in its quiet clarity, resonates with a deep desire to be fully alive.

There's a tendency in metal to mistake aggression for honesty, volume for depth. To confuse the performance of darkness with its actual weight. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest, the new album from San Francisco-based post-black metal band Bosse-de-Nage, sidesteps this entirely. It’s the group’s most fully realized work yet, precisely because it refuses to be pinned down.

Bosse-de-Nage have been working with The Flenser for over fifteen years. They were one of the first bands the label ever partnered with and have the longest active relationship in the label's history. But unlike most bands who build momentum through constant touring and visibility, Bosse-de-Nage has largely existed apart from the music world's usual machinery. They've evolved on their own terms, in relative isolation, allowing the work to develop without outside pressure or influence. What began rooted in black metal anonymity has mutated into something that actively defies categorization. The aggression is still there, but it's no longer the point. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest finds the band treating emotions like physical objects, feelings with spatial properties. “No Such Place"" describes a space that can't exist but does anyway, somewhere between thought and location. ""Immortality Project"" examines infinite possibility not as promise but as problem, endless options collapsing under their own weight. These songs don't use metaphor to describe emotion. They make emotion into something you could theoretically touch.
Tracked by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Oathbreaker) at Atomic Garden East and mixed and mastered by Richard Chowenhill of Agriculture, Hidden Fires Burn Hottest was years in development, with some tracks beginning in 2018.

The long writing process offered time that most records don't get. Time to live with ideas, revise endlessly, to let structures settle. For the first time, lyricist Bryan Manning wrote everything in advance, creating a surplus to pull from rather than working under deadline pressure. The difference shows.
Coming off Further Still, an album built on constraint and economy, Bosse-de-Nage sought the opposite: sprawl, strangeness, fewer rules. Space for ideas to develop without rushing them. Dynamics that move through quiet as much as noise. Presence earned through atmosphere instead of volume. The record even includes ""Mementos,"" which might be considered the first love song the band has ever written.

Nothing here coheres into a theme. These are pieces pulled from low moments and private feelings made public through sound. The band has never been interested in positivity, in music that resolves cleanly or offers comfort. But bleakness doesn't mean humorlessness. There's something darkly funny running through much of it, even when it shouldn't be.
Hidden Fires Burn Hottest doesn't explain itself. It just insists: what you feel is as real as what you can see."

2xLP Black Vinyl. Jane Remover is something of an internet legend. They are credited with playing a key role in the creation of the digicore music microgenre, an overstimulated relative of hyperpop.
In fact, everything Jane Remover does has an overdose of stimuli: their songs are like the Tasmanian devil from Looney Tunes. A whirlwind of warped and excessive digital pop.

2026 Repress

Deadbeat & Tikiman's occasional collaborative performances have since blown the minds of many audiences

Deadbeat. Tikiman. Infinity. Dub. A quadrangle of such obvious statement and perfect musical inference may very well never have been uttered for those of the wholly weeded out persuasion. Indeed, when the great book of Dub music is written the names Scott Monteith and Paul St Hilaire will undoubtedly figure highly in its chapters devoted to recent years. Monteith, the last great prodigal son of the doctrine handed down from the Blue Mount of Lord Scratch and King Tubby, St Hilaire the undisputed voice of a generation, those fanatical warrior monks, followers of the most Holy House of Ernestus and Von Oswald incarnate.

Having developed a fast friendship from their very first meeting in Montreal at the premier Micro Mutek event a decade ago, Deadbeat and Tikiman's occasional collaborative performances have since blown the minds of audiences from Berlin to Tokyo and many points in between. No great surprise then that their first album length venture is a Tour de Force of Dub music of the highest order.

Nearly a year in the making, the genetic code of Deadbeat's Infinity Dubs series gets shot through with a Dreader than Dread Kingstonian logic, hi hats dropping back from the three to the one, Tikiman at his most militant, poetic, fierce, and flowing. These are the recordings of two lions uncaged, and none who bare witness shall escape their fiery judgement.

If music is truly eternal, here be two voices which shall echo in infinity with all the weight, reverence, and dire power unleashed with every tectonic bass hit, and every whimsical turn of phrase. And if these eight burnt offerings are any indication of what happens when these two sit down for a session of smoke and reasoning, here's hoping they choose to do it frequently. Dub without end. Ad Infinitum.

Inexplicably, yet true, Lexx returns to International Feel with a record that lives exactly where his music feels most at home. In Between State is a gentle navigation between memory and motion, between what has passed and what is still quietly unfolding. It is reflective without nostalgia, uplifting without force. A record that trusts the listener to drift.
Another Beach opens as a meditation on time and possibility. It looks back with warmth but keeps its gaze fixed on the horizon. A reminder that nothing is fixed, everything moves, and somewhere ahead there is always another sunset waiting on another shore.
Unison follows as a celebration of togetherness. Open-hearted and weightless, it captures the simple magic of shared moments with friends, music traveling across a room, and the quiet certainty that joy multiplies when experienced collectively.
The title track In Between State settles into that suspended hour where day dissolves into night. Inspired by early 90s electronica yet unmistakably Balearic in spirit, it drifts forward with a subtle psychedelic glow, neither arriving nor
departing, just perfectly hovering in place.
Closing the journey, Durchs Hinterland rolls steadily outward into open space. Born from long rides through backwoods and side roads, it moves with hypnotic momentum and the calm rhythm of forward motion. Endorphins rise, thoughts loosen, and the landscape begins to breathe with you.
Four tracks, quietly luminous. Music for transition, companionship, and the spaces in between. Lexx remains exactly where he should be.

Our latest Holy Grail reissue is this private press spiritual jazz gem out of California from Rickey Kelly and his vibes & marimba. Features Diane Reeves (vocals) & Adele Sebastian (flute)!

Heavyweight 180g LP with tip-on sleeve, individually numbered 1-1000, card enclosed for liner notes & audio download

"Rickey, I know these are your friends, the guys you went to school with, but if you wanna record an album, you record with musicians who have been playing their whole life; whatever you write, they'll put their whole life into it. You play with your friends; they may not even play in tune."

These are the words of Slave guitarist Kevin Johnson, and they were to change the course of young Rickey Kelly's life.

It was 1978, and music student Kelly had approached Johnson with a tape of rough demos of some songs he'd written. A San Francisco native, Kelly had recently moved the short distance south to study music at LA City College in East Hollywood. He was a member of E.W. Wainwright Jr.'s African Roots of Jazz, and was spending up to 10 hours a day in practice on both vibes and marimba. He also played with Horace Tapscott, and had his own band made up of fellow students, but it was his ambition to make an album that led to the conversation with Johnson. It was a turning point in his education, and a decision was looming.

The next thing Johnson said was "You call the best jazz musicians. How'd you like to play with Billy Higgins?", a line that would seal it for anyone; for a youngster like Rickey just starting out in the business, you just don't turn down the opportunity to play with the likes of highly accomplished musicians, especially those of the calibre of legendary jazz drummer Billy Higgins.

Some calls were made and the date was set to record at Studio Masters on Beverly Blvd, a studio set up just a few years previous in 1973, owned and operated by Dot Records founder Randy Wood with his son John. Some of the other music professionals set to record with Kelley that day were flautist Adele Sebastian, bass player Tony Dumas, saxophonist Charles Owens and vocalist Diane Reeves, none of whom had previously played with Kelly before.

Kelly was impressed with the studio, with the gold records displayed on the walls and the famous musicians hanging out. 'It took a lot of humility for me to record with them, I mean I was nobody, nothing, and for not a lot of money either' remembers Rickey in a later interview with Calvin Lincoln, 'It taught me a lot, to practice hard, and study for the rest of your life, to give your all, and there's a lot of all to give'.

As the recording session took place, John Wood was listening in. He was impressed. Kelly didn't have the funds to manufacture and release the album himself, so Wood suggested it was pressed up on his in-house studio label, Los Angeles Phonograph Records, and thus the LP 'My Kind of Music' was released early in 1979. The album also saw a subsequent pressing soon afterwards on Dennis Sullivan's New Note label.

Kelly remains humble and proud of his debut album to this day. 'I was still a beginner' he says, 'These masters walked in, smiling, and gave me something worth gold'.

‘Confession' is an album of quiet upheaval. An album about closeness that arrives late and unexpectedly. About stability rubbing up against desire. About the way friendship can suddenly tilt into something charged — and how that charge unsettles everything around it. Where earlier work often observed from a distance, Confession turns inward. The voice is closer, warmer, less shielded. “This wasn’t the album I intended to make,” says Carla dal Forno. “I originally wanted something veiled and abstract, but I realised I couldn’t hide behind abstraction — the songs only worked when I leaned into emotional truth.”

This is dal Forno’s fourth LP, written and recorded over several years in a small country town, in a studio housed inside a partially abandoned hospital. Long corridors, humming lights, emptied rooms — a place built for care and waiting, now quiet enough for thoughts to echo. That stillness shapes the record: intimate, watchful, unadorned. “I live in a small country town that offers a stillness my life didn’t previously have,” she explains. “In that quiet, feelings I might’ve ignored in a busy city grew loud.” Dal Forno sings plainly and conversationally, with an emotional precision that sharpens the everyday into something quietly unsettling.

The album moves through paired states: going out and staying in, wanting and withholding, devotion and distraction. Domestic calm set against private unrest. A long-held relationship offers safety and routine, while a newer connection opens emotional fault lines — longing, jealousy, fantasy, self-exposure. “At the heart of the album is a friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way,” dal Forno says. “That shift brought daydreaming, jealousy, tenderness, confusion, self-awareness — and eventually acceptance.”

The drama here is internal, incremental, lived. Musically, Confession feels lighter on its feet than its subject matter suggests. Melodic basslines anchor the songs while guitars, harmonies, and gently off-kilter rhythms move around them. There’s a looseness, even a playfulness — “like the sensation of tension lifting once you finally admit something to yourself,” as dal Forno puts it. The album traces a subtle arc: attraction blooming where it shouldn’t; obsession quietly taking hold; fantasy overtaking reality; clarity arriving slowly, sometimes painfully. Visually and emotionally, Confession returns to modest spaces: backyards, beds, night streets, overgrown paths. “The record exists in that contrast,” dal Forno reflects. “Peaceful surroundings, unsettled interior.”

Like all of dal Forno’s work, Confession resists clean conclusions. It doesn’t moralise desire or romanticise restraint. Instead, it lingers in the in-between — where love is stable but not total, where yearning teaches as much as it hurts, where solitude becomes a form of care. Plain-spoken but emotionally complex. Rooted and restless. Held together by bass, breath, routine, weather. An album about admitting what you feel —and living with what that admission changes.

Nevertheless, the latest album from Hammock, exists in a state of awakening. Across 11 ambient guitar string, and piano works, ethereal light crests and contrasts with darkness, giving shape to physical forms and feelings. Amidst sorrow and grief, melodic motifs and refrains echo from the past to reanimate dreams and faded memories. As Nevertheless asks questions of permanence and purpose, beauty takes shape in the intangible_the traceless connections that gave, and give, meaning. "Nevertheless has been one of those words that has outlasted my upbringing," says Hammock's Marc Byrd. "Being from the deep South, I most often heard it said or read at funeral services. It's meant to imply a type of sacred pause . . . a space of in between. Between the grief of being broken by the world and the impossibility of moving into a future that feels more like empty space and less like solid ground. This album is for a friend who lost a daughter and a son to addiction within a couple of years of each other. Requiem for Johan sets up the context for what is to follow throughout the rest of the album. . . a passage through the aftermath of devastation. Unfortunately, and fortunately, these seasons of loss are what we all share in common. Nevertheless . . . we limp on."

On "Enduring Sonance," saxophonist and flutist Steve Wilson reflects on a lifetime of lyrical, deeply felt songs drawn from jazz, pop, and film—brought to life by an all-star ensemble featuring Renee Rosnes, Joe Locke, Jay Anderson, and Kendrick Scott. *** Certain songs have a way of lingering in the imagination—resonating long after we’ve last heard them, sometimes for a lifetime. On his breathtaking new album "Enduring Sonance," veteran saxophonist and flutist Steve Wilson celebrates the music that has left the deepest imprint on his musical life. “Some of the tunes on this record have stayed with me for, in some cases, over 50 years from the time that I first heard them,” Wilson says. “I wanted to put some music out there that people can connect with, no matter what kind of music they like.” Originally conceived as a ballads project, Enduring Sonance evolved into something broader and more personal. Rather than focusing on tempo or style, Wilson gravitated toward a sense of lyricism—music whose emotional clarity and melodic resonance endure across genres, decades, and listening habits.

To realize this vision, Wilson assembled a deeply intuitive ensemble featuring pianist and arranger Renee Rosnes, vibraphonist Joe Locke, bassist Jay Anderson, and drummer Kendrick Scott, with special guest Kevin Newton (French horn, Imani Winds) appearing on two tracks. Each musician brings a rare sensitivity to melody, texture, and space, allowing the material to unfold with warmth, restraint, and quiet authority. The repertoire draws from a wide musical landscape, including works by close collaborators and modern jazz masters Billy Childs and George Cables, alongside enduring songs by Michel Legrand, Quincy Jones, Milton Nascimento, Gino Vannelli, Bill Lee, and Eliane Elias. These are not standards in the traditional sense, but deeply personal selections—songs that have accompanied Wilson through different chapters of his life. The album opens with Childs’ “Quiet Girl,” its subtle rhythmic motion enhanced by Newton’s luminous French horn, and travels through cinematic ballads, soulful grooves, and reflective lyricism. The title Enduring Sonance speaks both to the lasting resonance of these songs and to Wilson’s enduring musical relationships—most notably with Rosnes, whom he has known for nearly four decades and whose sensitive arrangements help unify the album’s diverse repertoire. “These songs are the soundtrack of my life,” Wilson says. “I’d love it if listeners came away from this album with the same kind of enduring sound and feeling.”

Fresh Hold Releases presents Helen Ripley-Marshall's mysterious Australian ambient electronic album "Green Chaos", reissued for the first time on vinyl LP. Originally released in 1988 on Sydney based private press label Freefall, "Green Chaos" marks the sole release from Ripley-Marshall.

In the late 80's Ripley-Marshall lived a Bohemian lifestyle in inner city Sydney; "surrounded by musicians, actors and artists, there was an amazing creative experimental vibe going on". While playing in new wave/art rock band "D Face" she began Green Chaos as a personal project to counteract the creative friction sometimes experienced within a group dynamic, heavily inspired by Arnold Frolows' "Ambience" radio show on Australia's Triple J and particularly the music of Tangerine Dream, Harold Budd and Brian Eno.

Initially a solitary endeavour, once she decided to record in a studio Green Chaos morphed into a somewhat collaborative, improvisational project with other musicians invited into the studio to improvise and add their own interpretations and ideas, additional layers and dimensions, resulting in a work that combines a clear influence from the electronic repetition of the Berlin school with a meandering, futuristic lyricism. Although influenced by the long form sonic journeys of artists like Tangerine Dream, Ripley-Marshall's background in art rock and new wave brings a more concise approach, each song a self-contained universe that says only what is necessary in the arrangement.

After completing a sound engineering course Ripley-Marshall recorded the album at Sydney's Exeter House Studio over several months alongside studio engineer Andrew Knight, met through a fellow member of D Face. Knight ran Freefall, a private press recording label releasing folk and bluegrass music, which had Green Chaos as its sole ambient release. Ripley-Marshall self distributed the album to local inner city record stores and dropped a copy to Triple J, where it became a regular staple of Arnold Frolows' show.

These days Ripley-Marshall has moved away from music and is predominantly focused on visual art. "Green Chaos" stands as the only released product of her musical years, both a personal window into the vibrant experimental art scene of late 1980s Sydney and a deep, timeless anomaly of Australian electronic music.

Guests is the home recording project of Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine. Vaguely named as such to avoid any problems with the poster if they pull out of a gig (which has only happened once, about a year and half before any songs were actually written to be fair) but also to capture a sense of reverse hospitality. That is, arriving at your door with a bottle of good wine (can’t turn up empty handed) or a fist full of savoury or sweet snacks (time of day dependant); oversharing at the afters (and then passing out on your couch); reading to your toddler while you make their lunch or put everything back where it was meant to go (only to get torn apart again). So, something about what happens when private worlds meet each other, making or having been made a space for. But at times, it’s a different kind of intimacy, a temporal or material one, like the feeling of crisp fresh sheets, and abundant and soft, body-part appropriate towels in a hotel in a city you’ve been to before and love to go back to.

Their debut record, “I wish I was special”, was variously described as “a collage of concrète experiments and outerzone pop gestures, music that sounds as if it’s been written from the depths of a dream”; “music for people who love music but also hate it too”; “something like chasing ghosts or befriending a wild animal”; “pulling apart nervous sensations with haphazard ease and requisite humour”; and “a melody of refusal, of being all-in (…) finding the exact right WRONG sound to express the discontent”. Common Domestic Bird continues in this vein, layering synthesiser, keyboards and samples over rudimentary drum rhythms and field recordings, which are in turn sung or spoken with to create nine new songs.

Written and recorded between autumn 2024 and summer 2025 in Reading, Berkshire, the music has matured since its last outing, in a way, leaning less into collage and more toward structured composition and melodic depth, yet retains a healthy dose of indeterminacy and off-kilter rhythms for the forever-amateur. The songs on Common Domestic Bird hint at some “about”-ness through a series of discrete vignettes which sound a bit like architecture or end of year lists, gossip or over-thinking subjectivity, like disappearances and impressions, the support structure of the spine, letters and signs offs, things you could really do without and where they should go, hoping you’ll see something that isn’t there, pretences and performance. At times they feel kind of funny, others kind of sad or a bit angry and annoyed, a bit like you really.

"Life & Death has been a bucketlist label for me since day one. I've always been inspired by the way DJ Tennis approaches music and the whole philosophy around the label. What always stood out to me is the variety in the releases. One record can be deep and emotional, the next one raw and club-focused, but it still feels like it belongs to the same world. That balance is something I am always chasing in my music. Next to this: in a world that is focussed more and more on short term wins and commercial performance, i really can tell that Tennis still values the art and process of making music the most, which is something i really appreciate"

I remember hearing him play at Circoloco in Ibiza and later in the Loft in Amsterdam and thinking: 'fuck, I should've send him the tune I made last week.' When I came back home, I immediately put together a pack of tracks to send to him. Two were released as part of the Fabric release, and 4 of them are on this EP.
For me, this release is a next step in my career, and I'm happy and proud to be part of a label that is both legendary and super relevant in 2026."

Two jewels in the crown of the soulful electronic music scene in NYC unite for a spellbinding EP on Rhythm Section International. ”Full Circle” is a brand new body of work from Musclecars & Toribio.

To call this 12” simply epic would almost be doing it a disservice. The breadth of musicality and execution of ideas contained across 3 compositions is nothing short of miraculous. I use the word composition intentionally: these are not merely tracks - these are 3 movements making up a concerto - with a dub thrown in for good measure!

The record kicks off with a soulful house behemoth, “ That’s My Story” featuring NJ legend Roland Clark on vocals giving sweet sweet testimony. In many ways, this track feels like a coming together of the trios influences. The lyrics contextualise it, giving it this intimate, confessional feel. The latin drums shuffling amidst the 909 kick drive it forward and the organ swimming freely amongst it all takes us to church. It’s a timeless track - paying homage to the various New York traditions laid down by Louis Vega, Timmy Regisford, Joaquin Claussell , Ron Trent et al - all heroes and collaborators of the composers who - with this effort - have surely now earned their place in the pantheon of American Soul Music.
‘
Be Honest’ maintains the confessional tone with the lyrics but takes things right back down in terms of tempo. Is it a love song, an ultimatum or a cry for help? Whichever way you interpret it, this track is Toribio’s time to shine as a lead vocalist and he hits all the notes, leaving not a dry eye in the house. This is a delicate tour de force, delivered with such raw emotion and vulnerability it allows the instrumentation takes a back seat - just a gentle groove, swelling strings and some unresolved chords are all that’s required to transform us to the main character of this story. We’re left hanging, and it’s oh so relatable.

Agua De Florida serves as an uplifting, fast paced finale to the concerto and this one’s all about the trumpet - masterfully performed by Melbourne born, London based virtuoso Audrey Powne. If Herb Alpert was making house music - I imagine this is what it would sound like. Throbbing bass and noodling synths join the melee and crank the joy up to 11. If the EP is a story arc over 3 tracks, then we’re definitely not left hanging with this one. All is resolved, things are moving onwards and upwards and the circle is complete.