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The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production. Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees. McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased. Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself.

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production.
Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees.
McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased.
Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself. John McKay will be made available for a limited number of interviews . . . and yes, there are surprises in store.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

‘LIVE. SHIFT. DREAM.’ : three words for a first EP that invites you to embrace existence, shift gears when opportunities arise and keep your hopes and ambitions alive. That's what PAMELA is all about: electric energy, raw momentum, urgency. There's no time to get bogged down, it's all there in front of us, so let's make the most of it.



In this EP, each track is a facet of themselves, a distillation of their influences and raw energy. ‘Focused’ opens like an adrenalin rush, oscillating between desire and loss of control. ‘G.R.E.A.T.’ ? An explosive Britpop anthem, celebrating individuality with saturated synths and a heady riff. ‘IDNTKNWYT’ invites you to let go and dance without restraint. Then there's ‘Lover's Potion’, which reveals a softer, more intimate side, with a retro, hushed voice that's transporting.



And that's not all: ‘Full Sentimental’ is a powerful confession, where nostalgia becomes an outlet, while ‘Put out the Fire’ burns with urgency and sounds the alarm about the current climate situation.



Co-produced with Pierre Cheguillaume (who also produced Zaho de Sagazan), their tracks oscillate between LCD Soundsystem, The Cure, and Soulwax, blending into dance music tinged with indie rock and britpop. Showcasing their full power live, PAMELA will perform at La Maroquinerie (Paris) in March, after supporting Zaho de Sagazan on her Arena tour.



‘LIVE. SHIFT. DREAM.’ is more than just a start for PAMELA: it's an invitation to feel, to vibrate, and never stop.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Joni Void, the artistic persona of Montréal-based French-British producer Jean Néant (he/them) returns to songcraft on their warmest and most welcoming record yet, where the acclaimed sampledelic sound collagist chills out with an emotionally resonant song cycle tinged by downtempo, lo-fi, avant-pop, and trip-hop. Guests include Haco, Ytamo, Sook-Yin Lee, Pink Navel and N NAO. Every Life Is A Light expands on Void's recent stylistic turn towards more languorous and mellow lo-fi production, foreshadowed by the drifting looseness and ambient bricolage of their preceding experimental sound-art record. This transitional sensibility now shapes more defined song structures and styles, with loops are given time and space to unspool, and rhythms shot through the softer-focus lens of trip-hop and dub. Every Life Is A Light swaps the twitchy insistence of Void's acclaimed early albums for a newfound lightness and suppleness, still imbued with all the restlessness, sonic detailing, and emotional resonance that made their name. The neurotic brokenmachine kinetics of earlier Void, summarized by Sasha Geffen as "drawing despair and wonder from within the vast unfeeling of digital communication" in an 8.0 Pitchfork review, may be chilling out, but Void is becoming an ever better conjurer of hauntological feeling. Every Life Is A Light summons this in a comparatively buoyant, benevolent, head-nodding journey more open to tenderness and modest joys. Perhaps it's the sound of Void at greater peace with themselves and the world, despite the bittersweet cost: even as it channels grief, memorializing comrades and companions recently deceased, this album wants light. Void's raw materials continue to draw heavily from samples (their own Walkman cassette fieldrecordings and songs by others) and from a wide community of musical guests. Vocalists Haco on "Time Zone" and Ytamo on "Cloud Level" help levitate what could be lost tracks from a mid-90s Too Pure Records compilation of skewed-lounge electronica. Canadian musician Sook-Yin Lee sings on lead single "Vertigo," a sinewy 80bpm tape-loop and bassline groove propelled by psychedelically-layered lyrics that eventually turn the song in on itself entirely, like Grace Jones' "Nightclubbing" covered by Animal Collective. One of Void's greatest hip-hop loves is the Ruby Yacht collective; charter member Pink Navel drops some brilliant verses on "Story Board." The album's two minimal tracks, an extended piano loop set to a slow beat and shimmering electronics on "Muffin-A Song For My Cat" and the languid sampled bass riff and breakbeat of "Event Flow," are perhaps most overtly `lofi chill.' Indeed the whole album could be said to sit adjacent to those viral (if not already AI-generated) genre trends, which maybe begs the question on a lot of our minds: can specificity and authenticity of musical materials still be heard, still meaningfully signify substance and difference, still matter? Perhaps a question that fades in comparison to the career break Void could catch by landing on generic streaming playlists. More likely, these tracks remain too off-kilter, too genuinely lo-fi and ineffable, and too disqualified by the status of its peasant rights-holders, to catch the algos. Context remains the poor cousin of content. Meanwhile Void marches on, as a tireless organizer of local music events, bouncing around and often living in DIY venue, depending on the latest apartment eviction. With an ubiquitous polaroid camera in tow, they also document each communal happening with a single shot (and often a blinding flash bulb): a memory and metaphor for lives illuminated preciously, singularly, `imperfectly' in the moment. Dozens of these polaroids adorn the album's back cover and inner sleeve art in grid-like montages, as a fitting analog for the careful construction, grainy intimate materiality, and ephemeral feeling of these songs. Every Life Is A Light is Joni Void's most coherent and congenial record while relinquishing none of their experimentalist acumen as a producer or emotional attunement as a composer. Instead these qualities flourish, on an album that lights a humble flame for the fragile promise of homespun creative collaboration as unalienated labour and therapeutic communion, making an enchantingly idiosyncratic contribution to downtempo sample music along the way. Thanks for listening.

Legendary French DJ and producer The Hacker debuts on Radio Slave’s Rekids with the ‘Laser & Smoke’ EP on 21st February 2025. The two-track ‘Laser & Smoke’ EP harkens back to The Hacker’s early 90s roots in Detroit-inspired Electro & Techno. First, he starts with ‘Turborave’, a tasteful, bleepy cut with an unignorable bassline and muted dub chords that wash over its snappy groove. ‘Turborave’ is the kind of heads-down, lose-yourself dancefloor moment for the later hours before ‘Harmonia’ sees The Hacker play with high-voltage cables on the B-side. Charged-up zaps and zippy acid call and respond while bodied drum hits keep the rhythm moving, whistles and pads occasionally joining in.

Pioneering DJ and producer The Hacker is renowned for being a leading proponent of Electroclash in the early 2000s, his Techno and EBM-infused sound, and iconic collaborations with Miss Kittin. With releases on labels like Dark Entries, Mannequin Records, and Turbo, as well as remixes for Air, Soft Cell, Dave Clarke, and Front 242, The Hacker remains a vital force in electronic music. He now adds Radio Slave’s Rekids to his extensive discography for the first time via the ‘Laser & Smoke EP.

Radio Slave’s Rekids was founded in 2006 and has since spawned successful offshoots with the Techno-focused Rekids Special Projects in 2017 and its newest sublabel, REK’D, in 2024. With Matt Edwards as the sole A&R, Rekids has been crucial in developing early artist careers and has become a haven for established acts operating in House and adjacent genres, having recently featured the likes of Harry Romero, Hilit Kolet, William Kiss, Bushwacka, Mathias Kaden, Tiger Stripes, Tal Fussman, and many more.

With an intrigue for a particular niche of old UK hardcore which takes cues from Sheffield bleep ambience, heady rave futurism and soft, almost new age synth pads, Blank Mind presents ‘Lost Paradise: Blissed Out Hardcore 91-94’. Though the records gathered for the compilation span a short three-year period and bridge the gap between scenes, the collection manages to find a sweet spot where the influence of Warp’s Artificial Intelligence, back room chill out sonics and the nascent jungle boom meet with elements of Italian piano house and slower breakbeat cuts.

Opting to focus on atmosphere to highlight shared connections; in this case the duality of often serene and calming soundscapes with frenzied breaks and bass (see Hedgehog Affair’s ‘Parameters’ and Luxury’s ‘Twirl’ respectively); Lost Paradise is a formidable collection of tracks plucked from a thriving time for British dance music experimentation. The general themes of ascension and escapism channelled through digital samplers are also inescapably linked to a turbulent time in politics, beginning in the post-Thatcher years and culminating in the year the harshest anti-rave Criminal Justice Act came into force.

Initially building the compilation around DJ Mayhem’s track ‘Inesse’, Blank Mind label founder Sam Purcell and Amsterdam based producer Tammo Hesselink began a process of swapping favourites and deep cuts to spread across this 2x12” doublepack. The compilation avoids any obvious centrepieces through masterful sequencing, allowing for moments of refrain and tempo changes in a way that helps add to their overall vision of what this music is and can be; “We wanted to frame hardcore in a different light, looking at this idea of ecstasy through the traditional meaning of the word and exploring that symbolism”. By drawing from what some might consider the softer edges of the movement, the pair offer a look into the relevance of these tracks in the contemporary era, where the past years have seen both an explosion in popularity of old ambient/new-age music and a certified jungle revival.

Two records came out in 1988 that forever changed the perception of "experimental" or "serious" music produced in Portugal. These were "Plux Quba" by Nuno Canavarro and "Música de Baixa Fidelidade" by Tózé (António) Ferreira. Both were released by the same label - Ama Romanta -, an influential independent imprint closely linked to avantgarde pop band Pop Dell'Arte. Because those records appeared in what could be perceived as an "alternative pop" framework, they rescued this difficult music from Academia. It helps that Canavarro played in a successful new wave pop band (Street Kids) during the period 1980-83. By association, being a friend since 1976, António was in close contact with many of the musicians and bands that were part of the equally celebrated and detested Portuguese Rock Boom (roughly 79-82).

He was not a musician then but through his friendship with Canavarro, who had the means to acquire electronic equipment, António became involved with that equipment and shared Canavarro's passion for experimentation and curiosity for knowledge. They tried to get hold of as many technical magazines as possible and learn while testing ideas. In 1983, Street Kids were about to break up, young lives drafted into the Army and maybe, in Canavarro's case, a whole new passion for challenging music similar to his bandmate Nuno Rebelo, by then in the process of discovering a wide range of "other" music mainly through Jorge Lima Barreto. Barreto, who had started Telectu with Vítor Rua, possessed a huge book and record collection and, like Rua before them, Canavarro, Rebelo and Ferreira became fascinated by the pool of knowledge they now had access to by frequenting Barreto's house in Lisbon. He was roughly a decade older, had published several books and other writings throughout the 1970s, cultivated an anarchic stance and a penchant for cultural indoctrination. Rebelo was the first to be introduced via his contact with Rua (who had invited him to play in his other band GNR).

Overwhelmed, he felt the need to share his enthusiasm with friends and eventually took a few to the house in true pilgrimage fashion. To see the Light. Among the few he led there was even João Peste, founder of Ama Romanta. Canavarro and Ferreira preceded him.

Ferreira recalls an exciting learning process added to his experiments with Canavarro's array of synths such as the Korg Ms 20, Korg polysix, ARP Axxe, Roland SH-01, the Ensoniq Mirage sampler... He read in a magazine article about someone who had studied at the Institute of Sonology (then in Utrecht, Netherlands) and went there during a vacation trip in the Summer of 1983. He became excited by the prospect of studying at the Institute but money was a problem. Canavarro, on the other hand, was admitted there in the following year. Back in Portugal, Ferreira eventually abandoned his Chemical Engineering studies in Lisbon's Technical Institute in favour of a more focused music practice. He collaborated with Telectu during 1984 and 85 as a sort of technical engineer, implementing some recording solutions and background tapes and went to work at a thermoelectric power plant in Sines, hoping to make enough money to fund his musical studies. He did and proceeded with the paperwork for admission at the Institute of Sonology, now based in The Hague. António studied there in 1986-87 and the present album includes two compositions developed at the Institute: "More Adult Music" and "This Is Music, As It Was Expected", both featuring the voice of Rodney Waschka II. Among other activities and talents, Rodney is an expert in computer music and to António his voice sounded similar to Robert Ashley's, whose work he admired.

What happened at the Institute was a systematization of António's self-taught practice. Computer software, Musique Concrète, noise and silence, organisation of abstract ideas and sounds. The original notes on the back sleeve of the LP give some indication of process and thinking, but a more detailed account was given by António in the liner notes of the CD reissue in 2002, which are also included in this 2025 LP reissue.

The music sounds deep and detailed, despite the fact of António calling it low-fi ("Baixa Fidelidade"). It flows like an improvised performance where several musicians might be responding to each other, respectful of their mutual space. Drama occurs, as a natural emotional connection is sought by the listener. Piano, bells, drone, processed voices, even the clear narrative of Rodney Waschka II, contribute to create a sort of alternative perceptual reality. The sounds are almost tangible, more a part of the physical world than ethereal manifestations and thus it would not be correct to invoke "ambient music" as a selling point. But although "physical" and distinct, this music is still alien, more so in Portugal's 1988 environment. In March, helped by Canavarro, António set up a home studio and there he recorded the remaining material for this album: "Algumas Pessoas Olharam O Sul E Viram Deserto", "Um Som, Seguido De Uma Cena Negra E Malva" and "O Verão Nasceu Da Paixão De 1921".

"Música de Baixa Fidelidade" stands not only as a proof of great resilience but as one of those magnificent works of art coming from someone who balanced technical inclination and emotional sensibility. Because of that, Tózé Ferreira is able to decode the phantom world of sound for anyone who cares to experience the sensation of inhabiting a version of the Future. First ever vinyl reissue, reproduction of the original artwork with an additional insert. Made in collaboration with the artist and the support of Paulo Menezes (Plancton Music), who provided valuable assistance. Remastered by Taylor Deupree.

First vinyl edition of Carme López’ debut album of entrancing bagpipe arrangements. Unravelling forms of early music and funereal, queered droneworks full of strange tonalities, phased harmonics and curious subversions.

Carme López is a researcher and teacher of traditional Galician oral music, and ‘Quintela’ features her debut recordings for the Galician bagpipe, split into four longform movements totalling 40 minutes of supremely engrossing drone flourishes. Misunderstood by many, the bagpipe is here brought into the experimental realm as a form of decontextualisation, fashioning the instrument’s naturally peculiar timbres into soft, wavering tones.

Despite its unusual resonance, in López's hands the bagpipe almost becomes a pipe organ, producing long, swaying, sustained tones that highlight the instrument's complex timbral qualities. López plays with its breathy overtones, placing microphones on the bag itself to pick up residual sounds while she sculpts its squeals into cavernous siren calls, and then extracting half-rhythms from its reeds on the elegiac closer 'iv: CACHELOS. a César De Farbán'.

The instrument’s inherent wheezing and anomalous timbre lend the recordings a wavering foundation that feels designed to unsettle, but somehow becomes nothing short of entrancing through almost imperceptible harmonic shifts and odd tunings. It’s meditative music that requires active participation, focussed listening - so as to make sense of all the infinitesimal shifts and faults - in a way that feels unique to this most maligned, misunderstood, almost mystical instrument.

The compilation includes 5 Downtempo and 2 Deep House tracks. Marcel primarily focuses on slow and soft grooves with jazzy elements. The “Muzai in the House” and the“Cool Stuff at 4 o’clock” gives a jazzy fl are with a nice bassline. The “Sun-Kissed Shores” is a cool deep House track with a nice trumpet solo. The closing track “End of the Day” by Forteba is a calm and warm deep house song.

Today, the Toronto-born-and-raised singer, songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Charlotte Day Wilson announces her highly-anticipated sophomore album Cyan Blue out May 3rd via Stone Woman Music / XL Recordings

Along with the announcement of her new album comes the release of first single, "I Don"t Love You", a stark and devastatingly beautiful confessional, highlighting Wilson"s immaculate production skills and chill inducing vocals laid atop smooth groove piano chords and soft drums. The track also arrives with a visual directed by Dani Aphrodite featuring layered low fi footage of the artist and producer performing at home, living every day life and having moments of solitude in her car, a theme that comes up throughout the album. Cyan Blue finds Wilson crafting a smoothly woven cyan tapestry of her eternal influences; thumping gospel piano, warm soul basslines, atmospheric electronics, and penetrating R&B melodies. Yet, it possesses a sense of vastness that rings in a new era for Wilson, one in which she"s embracing collaboration and newfound creative openness tinged with wistfulness and yearning and a reflection on youthful innocence. "I want to look through the unjaded eyes of my younger self again," Wilson explains of making Cyan Blue. "Before there wasn"t as much baggage, before so much life was lived. But I also wish that my younger self could see where I am now. It would be nice to be able to impart some of the wisdom and clarity that I have now onto her.

" Working with producers like Leon Thomas (SZA, Ariana Grande, Post Malone), and Jack Rochon (HE.R, Daniel Caesar), Cyan Blue demonstrates Wilson´s sonic expertise while also showcasing the next evolution of her time-bending songwriting. Through 13 hypnotizing tracks, she continues to use music as a vessel for unpacking relationships, which in turn allows her to meet and understand herself in life-spanning, panoramic focus.

But, on Cyan Blue, she challenged herself to kick her perfectionist tendencies. "Before, I was extremely intentional about creating music with a strong foundation, a bed of artistic integrity," Wilson reflects. "But that was a bit stifling, like, "Let me just make a great piece of art that will stand the test of time, no pressure." Now, I think I"m getting out of this frozen state of needing everything to be perfect. I"m more interested in capturing feelings in the moment as they happen and leaving them in that moment."

While this is only her second album, Wilson"s influence in music has made a major mainstream impact. Wilson broke out in 2016 with her critically acclaimed EP, CDW, followed by 2018"s Stone Woman and made her debut studio album an official coming out moment in 2021 with the critically acclaimed, self-released Alpha.

Over the past decade, she´s been sampled by Drake, John Mayer, and James Blake, while Patti Smith has recently praised and covered Wilson´s 2016 breakout single "Work." Additionally, she´s collaborated with artists like Kaytranada, BADBADNOTGOOD, and SG Lewis, demonstrating that there´s no sound Wilson can´t adapt to and sprinkle her cyan-colored magic over.

Jacob Long’s fourth full-length for Kranky began as a notion to reimagine Earthen Sea as a “piano trio,” inspired by a year-long immersion in the ECM label catalog, but the compositions soon grew more complex.

Elements were chopped and resampled, then layered with bass, drums, percussion, and additional keys. The result is a fusion of live band acoustics and downtempo loops, sculpted into nine smoke-and-mirror dubs of fractured jazz, soft-focus noir, and trip-hop dust: Recollection.

Like the title implies, Long’s playing and production share a mood of pensive movement, shuffling and rippling like uncertain memories at strange hours.

From looming fog (“Present Day,” “Neon Ruins”) and shadowy breaks (“Another Space,” “Cloudy Vagueness”) to rosy glows (“Clear Photograph”) and smeared reverie (“White Sky”), Recollection deftly wields its palette of gradient color and subdued states of beauty.

His is a music of reduction and reflection, kinetic but oblique, attuned to the silhouettes of sound.

Following a four-year hiatus from solo releases, the British musician Matt Karmil returns with the soft-focus gentle beauty and subtly stealthy beats of new LP, ‘No Going Back’.

With inspired moments of creation happening incrementally, the album came together amidst a busy mixing/remixing/ mastering/co-production schedule. Artists who’ve enlisted his^multiple skills includes Bicep, Underworld, Mall Grab, Jayda G, DJ Koze, Neneh Cherry, Sofia Kourtesis, DJ Fett Burger, Matias Aguayo and Carmen Villain.

Feeling the benefits of this new approach, ‘No Going Back’ is the strongest expression of Matt's artistic vision to date, honing the spectrum of styles for which he’s renowned, all smudged together by a warm, gauzy haze. The microhouse anthem ‘SFP’ is followed by the broken tech science of ‘No Going Back’, the spectral dub techno spookiness of ‘Old Haunts’ and the sublime misty shimmer of ‘The Last Time’.

Further switching things up is the oddball dancefloor experimentalism of ‘Still Something There,’ the washed-out electroid balm of ‘Things Really Happen’, and the epic dark ambient closer ’15 mins’.

The last couple of years have seen a renaissance for West Coast singer-songwriters. LA-based youngsters such as Drugdealer and Sylvie have attracted considerable attention releasing warm and mellow records tonally reminiscent of the early 70s. Most fans of this new/old sound are unaware of Bart Davenport's early explorations in the same sonic territory. His now 20-year-old "Game Preserve"album should gain an appreciative new audience with its first ever vinyl release.

In the year 2000, Bay Area troubadour Bart Davenport and several other musicians were recruited by a major tech corporation in Seattle to work on an algorithm-based music matching/search engine. It was what looked like the beginning of a promising career. After a year, however, the project was shelved. Bart and his colleagues were laid off with a healthy severance package... on the 12th of September, 2001. Not only had the musician's life changed, so had the world. Rather than blow the money on a holiday or new car, Bart knew he had to make a record. A proper album that meant something.

Back in Oakland, he entered Wally Sound Studios with former Kinetics bandmate Jon Erickson at the controls, and a swathe of talented local musicians. "With Game Preserve," Bart explains, "Jon and I really wanted to knock it out of the park. I wanted to utilize people from my old bands like Loved Ones drummer John Kent. I also invited my newer indie-pop friends from Call & Response, and a young Nedelle Torrisi. Harmony singing by The Moore Brothers was an essential ingredient on Game Preserve as well."

Both Erickson and Davenport fondly recall growing up in households where the music of The Carpenters, Joni Mitchell and The Eagles soundtracked their young lives. By the early 00s they were ready to reconnect with what is often referred to as the "Laurel Canyon" sound. "I'd buy used tapes at garage sales and play them in the car. "Ladies Of The Canyon" by Joni and Jackson Browne's first album were both in heavy rotation. Jon Erickson was getting deeper into the Steely-Mac-Doobie yacht-rock sound in earnest. A certain amount of childhood nostalgia led a lot of us back to that part of the 70s. I'd flirted with classic soft-rock on my first album, but that record was pretty scattered esthetically. I wanted my next one to be more focused. Jon and I made some ground rules: no electric guitars (except on 'Bar-Code Trees'). No synths. Most importantly, all the songs have an air-tight, super dead, close mic'd drum sound. Putting these sorts of limitations on the sessions will give your record a specific quality. In the case of "Game Preserve"it's mostly about tight drums, acoustic instruments and analog production. We used a 24-track, two-inch tape machine for tracking, then ran the mixes through an analog board straight to a 1/4 inch master tape."

While the album's sonic palette may be firmly planted in 1970, Davenport's songwriting covers a sizable landscape of moods and reflections. From the quasi-flamenco intro of 'Sweetest Game' to the somber Wurlitzer of 'Nowhere Left To Go', to the 12-string shimmer of 'Intertwine', "Game Preserve" tells a story of young love, lost innocence and redemption, crossing borders and oceans along the way.

Released in 2003 on family-run Oakland label Antenna Farm, the ultra-analog sounding "Game Preserve" was only made available on digital formats, including CD. Copies were later pressed by labels in Germany and Spain; the latter being one country the album actually did well in, establishing Bart Davenport with a small but loyal fanbase he still enjoys today. Two European tours as support for Kings of Convenience also helped gain a foothold on the continent. Back in the US, however, Davenport and his sophomore album remained quite obscure.

Limited promotion meant it did little, but for the music lovers that heard it, the album undoubtedly remains a classic of the era, deserving far more. Twenty years on, it now finally receives its vinyl debut. "I personally think it holds up well," says Bart of the album two decades later. "The idea was to make something that could be an homage to late 60s/early 70s West Coast pop but hopefully timeless as well. Years on, I hear it as just that. It was a colorful and brief period of my life that felt at times like it could last forever. I discovered the joy of working in a proper studio with a perfect cast of characters. I'm still very close with all these people and still play music with many of them."

NOTON is pleased to announce the release of Xerrox Vol. 5, the final installment of Alva Noto’s Xerrox series.

For anyone who has been following the series since its inception in 2007, the concept of Xerrox no longer requires introduction. Originally, it aimed to create copies of images—both visual and acoustic—that are more memorable than the originals. The exploration of the relationship between the original and the copy, along with the invention of the copier, not only inspired the series name but also informed its underlying concept. In 2024, this series comes to an end, marking the culmination of a journey that began with the first recording in 2005/2006. Over nearly two decades, the five albums in this series have accompanied the artist's evolving perspective and conceptual approach.

Initially characterized by rawness and a conceptual focus on seeking resolution in white noise, the later works engage with themes of dissolution while shifting their emphasis toward acoustic particles. The copying process is now less visible through software manipulation; rather, it unfolds as the artist describes melodic and acoustic images that are then manipulated, copied, and transformed into new patterns during composition.

Nicolai describes this evolution as a journey encompassing buildup, exploration, and resolution, drawing parallels to the Odyssey and the stories of Jules Verne, particularly those featuring Captain Nemo.

The conclusion of this album holds a sense of finality for the artist. “I aimed to create a whole cycle of tracks that frame both the beginning and the end,” Nicolai explains. “The motif of the journey continues, but this time, the story reaches a dissolution through a conceptual object that embarks on its own journey into infinity. The word “dissolution” (“Auflösung” in German) is a wonderful concept. On one hand, you can solve a riddle, on the other hand, a pill can completely dissolve in water. Here, I am deliberately describing the process of dissolution.”
In crafting Volume 5, Nicolai has evolved his compositional process, eschewing samples in favor of original melodies. “This album probably took the longest to complete,” he reveals. “I first created melodic sketches, which became the foundation for the pieces. These recordings are created entirely from scratch. Based on these sketches, I constructed the process of copying, manipulating, and reshaping.”

Drawing from his recent experiences working with film and larger ensembles, Nicolai's approach to composition reflects a growing influence of classical instrumentation. “This experience of working with acoustic classical instruments has flowed into the compositional process for Xerrox Vol. 5. Certain instruments are designed with potential orchestral translation in mind.”

The sonic atmosphere of Xerrox Vol. 5 is one of profound dissolution. “I wasn’t initially interested in strong, emotional melodic aspects,” Nicolai shares, “but I realized that the fragment plays a central role.” This shift leads to an emotionally charged experience, imbued with melancholy and the bittersweet essence of farewell. The passing of Ryuichi Sakamoto, an admirer of the series, has further deepened the album’s emotional resonance.

“Xerrox Vol. 5 has a lot to do with farewell,” the artist explains. "Not only the farewell to the series itself, which I’ve nurtured for almost two decades, but also there have been many farewells to people who were close to me. I believe these people are recognizable in the music. It’s a very emotional, personal album.”

Listeners can expect a visual dimension to the music, though Nicolai intentionally leaves this open to interpretation. “I prefer to allow the music to evoke personal experiences and images rather than dictate a specific narrative,” he states. The result is a layered listening experience that invites tenderness and introspection.

'Mei Semones' sweetly evocative blend of jazz, bossa nova and math-y indie rock is not only a way for her to find solace in her favorite genres, but is an intuitive means of catharsis. "Blending everything that I like together and trying to make something new - that's what feels most natural to me," says the 23-year-old Brooklyn-based singersongwriter and guitarist. "It's what feels most true to who I am as an artist." `Tsukino', Mei's debut, self-released EP, is being released physically for the first time ever on Bayonet Records! The EP will be released by itself on CD & Tape formats, and will be included in a vinyl pressing on the B-side of Semones' landmark EP, `Kebutomushi'! Plinking guitar tones and asymmetrical time signatures exemplify Semones' forays into angular indie rock more now than ever before. Originally from Ann Arbor, Michigan, Semones began playing music at a young age, starting out on piano at age four before moving to electric guitar at age eleven. After playing jazz guitar in high school, she went on to study guitar performance with a jazz focus at Berklee College of Music. College is where she met her current bandmates, including string players Noah Leong and Claudius Agrippa, whose respective viola and violin add softness and multidimensionality to Mei's intricate guitar work. After releasing a slew of singles and an EP in 2022, coinciding with her move to New York City, Mei and her band have since gone on to collaborate with post-bossa balladeer John Roseboro and embark on their first-ever tour with the melodic rock outfit Raavi. Semones chronicles infatuation, devotion, and vulnerability in her songs, complete with sweeping strings, virtuosic guitar-playing and heartfelt lyrics sung in both English and Japanese, that have all become part of her sonic trademark: ornately catchy, genrefusing compositions serving as the backdrop to tender lyrics touching on the universalities of human emotion.

This third volume of Universal Synthesizer Interface delves further into early MIDI sequencing software for personal computers, focusing on Intelligent Music Software founded by Joel Chadabe in 1984. In a short period of time (1986-1990) Intelligent Music published a series of MIDI sequencing software titles that would have rippling effects throughout the music world: M, Jam Factory, UpBeat, MidiDraw, Ovaltune, Realtime, as well as an unreleased first version of Miller Puckette’s Max. These programs were a reflection of Chadabe’s desire to create interactive and intelligent algorithmic tools for home computers. Intelligent compositional tools had been floating around for decades in mainframe computer labs, but they had largely only been accessible to people working in academic or corporate laboratories. With the birth of Intelligent Music, these tools became available to anyone with a home studio. As the personal computers of this era had become less expensive and more accessible, they had also grown exponentially in processing power and seeming intelligence. In the music press from this time, we find the same two words used again and again to describe algorithmic computer systems: smart and intelligent. The tone of such articles may seem quaint by today’s standards, when AI and algorithmic control underpin so much of our technology, but the question of machine intelligence remains. Universal Synthesizer Interface VOL III Focuses exclusively on one of the more obscure of Intelligent Music’s software creations - UpBeat: The Intelligent Rhythm Sequencer, released in 1987, and hailed by reviewers of the time as “the world’s best drum machine.”

Japanese ambient owes a great debt to Masahiro Sugaya, whose work has been re-assessed and taken on all the more importance in recent years. The now cult musician and composer released his The Long Living Things album in 1988 for the performing arts company he belonged to, Pappa Tarahumara. Though it was overlooked for many years, it is now in sharp focus and gets a deserving reissue on vinyl for the first time ever by P-Vine which he also belonged to, and has long been overlooked by all but a few enthusiastic music lovers. One track from it was Grammy-nominated and rich of the record is minimalistic, with soft interwoven sequences that keep you afloat amongst the warming pads.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Ben Kaczor and Niculin Barandun reveal their debut album on Dial Records, dedicated to the healing properties of sound. »Pointed Frequencies« contains six mesmerizing compositions. The collaboration between Niculin Barandun and Ben Kaczor started in 2022 with a carte blanche for an audiovisual show at Digital Art Festival Zurich. While working on the performance, a common understanding of sound aesthetics emerged and the foundation for the duo’s project was laid. At that time Ben Kaczor studied sound therapy. Niculin Barandun was intrigued by the concept, and it became subject of the album's creation.

The intention behind »Pointed Frequencies« is to explore the therapeutic potential of binaural beats and solfeggio frequencies, providing listeners with a healing experience. These elements are subtly integrated into the recordings, becoming a freeform blend of experimental and ambient music. A contemporary approach suspends the esoteric background common in this field. Instead, the focus is on crafting a unique sound that is appealing to those seeking a more accessible form of musical recreation. With the dynamics of free improvisation, Ben Kaczor and Niculin Barandun create virtuosly interwoven sound structures. Ambient timbres evoke the presence of the room and create an experience of wordless thinking. An immersive journey invites the listener to sense of intimacy and movement. Calmness and contemplation, beauty and melancholy meet unconventional and stochastic scenes of dramatic character.

Amandra, half head honcho behind Ahrpe Records, goes for subtly evolving and droning atmospheres. With releases spanning electronic genres and record labels: Nous klaer Audio, AD 93, Tikita or Semantica, just to name a few; the French producer ba with coherence his own vision of acid and tribal rhythms that can be presented with either bright and soft feelings or through a
Brera Som Som EP

As always with Amandra, there is a blend of poetic and soft hidden touch given to the music through carefully crafted personal Som is a 4 tracker EP, recorded back when he lived in Warsaw Poland, showcasing the artists ability to navigate through nich double 12 package cherry topped with four intelligent and eclectic remixes from artists with their own unique identity: Shieldin Brainwaltzera.

Amandra on disc 1
Brera Som Som
I want my music to breathe dirty so its alive to my ears, trying to stay away from surgical, clean, electronic music. The Prophet recorded by hand, with assumed offbeat imperfections, as always. I wanted to get a naive Asian mood out of it, just to try and c track. I tend to think a lot about my tracks and their meaning more in terms of feelings, art and techniques than in terms of dee
dance floors or whatever. Brera Som Som is a try at using the chiaroscuro technique depicted in classical paintings for instance interesting focus on some very specific elements.

Cyborg Pelikana
Recorded out of a jam on a Soma Pulsar 23 and some heavy distorted synths, it ended up sounding like no other recordings bit different as I wanted to have a more composed like approach here.

Fanfaron
Here is a try at going jungle... with a Moog DFAM and a 303 processed through a Sherman Filterbank.

Prorokini
This one belongs to a phase where I was exploring the sampling side of electronic music. Until that moment I was building 100 based on raw drum machines and some processing, then started feeling how it would feel to sample some raw external beats and process them my way. I didnt pursue that sampling lead much afterward because it felt like a boring approach to me that
stood out anyway, like this one, which Im very proud of. The synths are clearly programmed on the Prophet 08, it cant go any Instruments than that, if you like them, go grab that synth

Remixers on disc 2
Cyborg Pelikana Shielding Remix
I liked the dry and direct qualities of the original track and wanted to maintain that feeling while collaging it using my own proc Recorded in my old home studio in Stockholm.

Brera Som Som Brainwaltzera Remix
no comment.
Fanfaron Whylie Remix
The remix was made using resampling techniques, the rhythmic noises were transformed into driving percussive layers pushi character. A more emotional overlay was added to the track based on the sentimental and personal approach I built through.

Brera Som Som Martinou Remix
Interpreting Amandras work has been on my bucket list for a while. Theres something in it that is innately humanizing and raw capture in my remix. The melody line from the remix is just a snapshot of a small part of the full original track, but it stuck with my improvisation to what you see before you today. With this remix I wanted to make something that would swell slowly and ring o
All original tracks written and produced by Amandra.
Remixes written and produced by Brainwaltzera, Whylie, Martinou and Shielding.
Mastered by Amandra.
Artwork by Neurotypique.

The Boysnoize Records catalogue contains more than a decade of milestones in the life of Angeleno DJ and producer PILO. His signatures—a focus on sound design, and a digital crunch evocative of hardware rather than software—are present from the very beginning, but the evolution of Pilo’s skill and sophistication is clear as he stretches from electro to experimental to techno and back again in a slowly oscillating gradient. Yet despite his dozen or so releases in just as many years, G.L.A.M. (dropping November 8th, 2024 from BNR) is Pilo’s first proper album. That the record embraces the cyclical nature of time is apropos; the artist’s journey towards self-actualized mastery always ends with a new beginning.



Over the eight tracks of G.L.A.M., Pilo reaches deep into the dream that first ignited the passion that has driven him since. For a chosen few internet-connected American teens in the aughts, the sounds of European electro (and electroclash) trickled down their ethernet cables and instilled a fantasy of exotic, sartorial, sexually-fluid hedonism that felt a world away from the hard-edged masculinity of the hip-hop and skate cultures dominant at home. Pilo opens G.L.A.M. expressing this idealized fantasy with the track “Superstar DJ,” channeling the tongue-in-cheek self-celebritizing of Miss Kitten and The Hacker’s seminal work. “I’m a superstar, come meet me at the bar,” hiss Pilo’s heavily effected vocals, over a bassline of chopped mentasm synths driven by a swift, club-ready rhythm. The fingerprint of 2000’s electro a la International Deejay Gigolo Records is recognizably present, yet Pilo is too adept, too confident in his studio abilities to let his tracks rely on the retro. A great joy of this album is the future-facing richness of its production, always nodding to its spiritual guide of the past, while constantly breaking new sonic ground.



G.L.A.M. continues with “Girls Rule The World,” its vicious, droning bassline and sticky, titular hook making it the perfect electroclash soundtrack for a revenge plot on an ex-boyfriend. “What you Want” offers an instrumental exercise in “synthesizers are the new guitars,” and Pilo’s FX chops really shine as he warps and distorts his sounds into an undiscovered dimension existing somewhere between both. “Loverboy” enters the more melodic, Legowelt-inspired realm of electro, pushing above and beyond the foundation of analogue minimalism with flourishes of impressive sound design to construct something both climactic and cathartic. Scopa lends her perfect coldwave sprechgesang to titular track “G.L.A.M.,” with Pilo’s vocal processing offering surprises throughout and his FX chains wielded as instruments unto themselves.



On the track “A Slow Thinning Halo,” Pilo might be conjuring the haunting vocal chops and chiptune simplicity of early Crystal Castles, but the whiplash snap of his drums and sizzling production are all his own. “Spend the Night” is G.L.A.M.’s least nostalgic—and most unashamedly pop—offering, with the mic being passed between Sana and DEEVIOUS (previously featured on Pilo and Boys Noize’s 2023 track “Pvssy.”) DEEVIOUS’ sultry singing rides atop the bassline as it hypnotically struts across the floor, while Pilo’s skillful arrangement, deft rhythm programming, and atmospheric control elevate the songcraft into full-spectrum worldbuilding.



As the penultimate track, the contemporaneity of “Spend the Night” serves as transition away from the album’s previous, past-leaning exercises, allowing Pilo to step fully into the future with “One Last Embrace.” The closing track still references aughts sounds, but it borrows so widely and prolifically that Pilo’s reassemblage can only be described as singular. Here, Pilo pushes his engineering into psychoacoustic territory, as the eerie, beautiful melancholy of “One Last Embrace” explodes into a thrashing bassline that warbles like a drowning memory, struggling against the sinking weight of time. Pilo allows it to survive for 16 electrifying, gut-wrenching bars before letting go. In G.L.A.M., as in Pilo’s career, as in life, every ending can only be a new beginning.

Rian Treanor keeps knocking new doors of possibility with his new label Electronic Music Club and its initial focus on Rotherham Sight & Sound, participants of a community-based initiative in their shared post-industrial home town Rotherham. Utilising software synths designed by Rian and his dad Mark Fell, the trio twist out vortices of shearing, asymmetric anarchitecture, rudely resembling the sort of hyper-contemporary styles alluded to in Rian’s solo works, but inflected with cranky timing and an intuitive freedom that bears extraordinary results, especially when considering the fact the trio had no prior musical ability, and only encountered electronic music a few years ago.

After a couple of years of practice and performance, ‘Action Potential’ now firms up their quicksilver sound for club and home buzzes with seven actions that warp and morph from the needling jolts and hoof of ‘Pass The Go’, to shuddering detonations in ‘Dial’, each with a properly electrifying force carrying a genuine futureshock. Working within Rian’s systems-based framework, Anne, Kathleen, and Mick deploy a tactile feel for the machines, finely honed over the course of many sessions at the Rotherham Sight & Sound facility, that uses their visual impairments to synaesthetic advantage.

Between the wickedly metallic ragga swivel of ‘Hold’, the diffractive chain reactions of ‘When It Ends’, and more tempered, sloshing sensuality of ‘30 Seconds’, the trio follow their noses down wormholes that manifest an ideal of accessibility and expressionism within electronic music contexts that Rian and Mark have long worked towards, with Anne, Kathleen and Mick’s relative lack of cultural conditioning in this paradigm prompting them to act on pure instinct

With his latest release "Precious Skin", Amsterdam based Hitam initiates the launch of "Rhiza Semar"- a label, focused on combining dynamic dance floor oriented productions with a left field approach to electronic music. Driven by a strong attraction to artistic innovation, it aims to develop a catalogue of sonic structures which transcend boundaries and traditionalism, immersing the audience in landscapes that are both familiar and otherworldly.. The essence resonates through it's first instalment. A four-track EP offering a dense and muddy trip into the fields of abstract techno. Besides some minor changes to the overall mixdown each track is recorded live. No arrangements, just the primal and impetuous necessity to create. All tracks, just like living organisms, evolve and progress, from the soft tones of 'Precious Skin' to the ominous yet soft allure of 'Chanu Akan'. Words by Costanza Acernese

REMASTERED AND REISSUED!!! GIRL TALK’s (aka GREGG GILLIS) third album on Illegal Art! Night Ripper is focused less on beat-fuckery and more on bringing heat to the party than previous outings. Hip hop hits, soft rock radio standards, party classics, grunge masterpieces, R&B singles, glossy club-shakers and rock anthems are all layered and placed together into one nonstop celebration of pop and excess. Night Ripper was awarded “Best New Music” by Pitchfork, and has made many proclaim Girl Talk the next Danger Mouse. “One endlessly entertaining mega mash-up”—Rolling Stone.

Few bands are as primed to capture their ecstatic live energy in masterful sonic detail like Terry Gross. Composed of three renowned engineer/producers (recording artists like Wooden Shjips, Moon Duo, Earthless, Big Business, and more) whose studio doubles as their jam spot and communal gathering place, the trio"s penchant for longform psychedelic escapades is able to be recorded with granular precision. The potency of the fellowship formed by drummer Phil Becker (Lower Forty-Eight, Peace Creeps, Pins of Light), bassist Donny Newenhouse, and guitarist Phil Manley (Trans Am, Oneida, Life Coach) lies in their ability to utilize their prowess as both players and record engineers to translate feeling with immaculate clarity. On Huge Improvement, Terry Gross embody a complex web of emotion with songs as ferocious and precise as they are agile and care-free, delighting in the catharsis of excising tension alongside one"s most trusted peers. Huge Improvement"s tongue-in-cheek title is rightfully earned. Like their debut Soft Opening, the pieces on Huge Improvement began as improvised studio jam sessions without expectations. The trio"s ability to plug in, play and have each experiment thoroughly documented opens up unparalleled avenues for further exploration and honing. The four mammoth slabs that make up Huge Improvement are driving, unrelenting excursions into the unknown. Whether burning white-hot or smoldering in plumes of smoke, the pieces stretch as much inwardly as they do cosmically, embracing every surprising turn. Terry Gross"s Huge Improvement morphs the trio"s search for communal connection and reprieve into a transcendent respite, a burst of focused energy to be enveloped in while facing the senselessness around us with a smile.

Axces Recordings presents the debut EP by CX, the producer alias of label affiliate Søren Kinch. The tracks on this release evoke a sense of melancholy and ethereal beauty, with a refined approach that complements the sound of modern club music.


The three tracks—Formula, Cobra, and Plethora—share a common structure of fast-paced grooves with a patient progression throughout. However, while Formula and Plethora both create an airy and hypnotic atmosphere, Cobra stands out by combining soft vocals with a harsher sound reminiscent of Robert Leiner. 

As a teenager, Søren met Torsten aka Helmuth Kool (1976-2015), a beloved figure and promoter from Aarhus who profoundly influenced his approach to music and raves. They often traveled to Berghain in Helmuth's old Saab 900 with only 4 gears. On this EP, Søren has dedicated the final track to Helmuth, who sadly passed away way too young—A playful and soaring track that Helmuth would dance to at his afterparty in heaven. 



Søren has been a part of the former Vektor crew and co-founded the renowned, though now defunct, club 'Et Andet Sted' in Copenhagen before joining Axces Recordings—a label that focuses on releasing club music and hosting intimate dance parties. It’s run by Alfredo92, A. Waze, Kasper Marott, Martin Gilleshøj, Matilde Gomes, and Popmix."


Mark Templeton is a Canadian media artist and the founder of Graphical, an audiovisual label dedicated to publishing his own musical and image based experiments. Mark’s audio compositions are constructed from reel-to-reel tape loops and sampled cassettes that are contrasted with contemporary sound techniques. In his published photobooks, he incorporates his own 35mm pictures and found images, focusing on intangible fantasies and realities. During his audiovisual performances, he utilizes digital instruments while projecting his own photographs, VHS footage, Super 8 film, and other sampled video.


Mark Templeton’s reinterpretation of outdated media as musical instruments makes him a compelling artist for the Faitiche label roster. For his debut on Faitiche, he browsed his old hard drives and invited Andrew Pekler to listen through and co-produce a selection of Mark’s unreleased works. The compositions act as a series of snapshots: a look back at a decade of archived sounds, re-envisioned and re-imaged for Faitiche.
The album contains nine tracks that follow an AB song structure. Each piece begins with verse A, transitions into verse B, and then ends. This simple formula creates a dichotomy that is also present in Mark’s diptych photographs, featured in the artwork. Throughout the album, both juxtaposition and inherent connections are simultaneously at play. One way or another, Two Verses provides a beginner’s guide to Mark Templeton's highly idiosyncratic catalog.

The impact, influence, and importance of Run-D.M.C.'s self-titled debut – the album that invented hardcore hip-hop and bridged rap, rock, and funk in then-unparalleled ways – cannot be measured. The first full-length record released by Profile Records, the 1984 set permanently changed the sound of music, broadcast streetwise wisdom to every corner of the country, and made the notion of a one-man band a distinct reality. Bolstered by an incendiary blend of staccato deliveries, stark beats, aggressive exchanges, evocative hooks, and socially conscious messages, Run-D.M.C. still hits listeners in the jaw with the same intensity it did nearly 40 years ago when it could be heard booming from ghetto blasters carried around city blocks nationwide.

Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's 180g SuperVinyl 33RPM LP is the definitive-sounding version of the groundbreaking work cited by Rolling Stone as the 378th Greatest Album of All Time. This reissue also represents the first time this gold-certified effort has been presented in audiophile quality. Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor, superb groove definition, and dead-quiet surfaces of SuperVinyl, Run-D.M.C. now plays with a clarity, immediacy, punchiness, and directness worthy of the artistry, urgency, and intellect of the trio's material.

The brilliance of Russell Simmons and Larry Smith's production comes into view as if the music is being broadcast on a giant system in a small club — only more focused, lively, and unlimited. Free of dynamic constraints and fatiguing harshness, this LP invites you to turn up the volume and experience the raw, rough, invigorating songs that changed the look, sound, and feel of hip-hop overnight. Think the trio’s sparse framework of drum machines, tag-team rhymes, keyboard accents, and turntable scratches is stuck in the mid-80s? Spin MoFi’s SuperVinyl LP and gain new appreciation for the music, messages, and production on display on Run-D.M.C.

Recorded in the wake of two successful and pioneering singles, both included on the album, Run-D.M.C. effectively took a sheet of coarse-grit sandpaper to the polish, sheen, and linear presentation of all the hip-hop that preceded it. Stripped to bare-bones foundations, the songs grab your attention and shake you by the collar with a combination of industrial-leaning rhythms, staggered deliveries, dance drama, and hard, minimalist percussion. Then there are the lyrics.

The LP broadcasts a smart mix of boots-on-the-ground reports, uplifting advice, and then-nascent b-boy culture. In one fell swoop, its narratives and music rendered the scene’s proclivity toward glamor and softness passé. Run-D.M.C.’s tough, cool-minded fashion sense showed the trio walked its talk and gave fans — particularly those living in long-ignored urban areas — heroes which with they could identify. Kangol hats, black jeans, leather jackets, Adidas sneaks, and gold chains were the new currency.

In every regard, Run-D.M.C. signifies the birth of modern hip-hop. Never more obviously than on the groundbreaking “Rock Box,” where rap and rock were first fused. As the first hip-hop video to receive regular rotation on MTV, the track eviscerated racial and social boundaries, awakened musicians and listeners to new possibilities, and redefined both popular music and, ultimately, popular culture. As the Roots’ Questlove has stated, it “ knocked down many obstacles, enabling hip-hop to become the new gospel."

Such teaching includes the real-world scripture of “Hard Times,” utopian hopefulness of “Wake Up,” and observational truths of “It’s Like That.” Released as the group’s debut single well before its eponymous album, the latter tune established themes and outlooks Run-D.M.C. would embrace during its career. Namely, the keen awareness of various prejudices, economic ills, and disruptive violence as well as the knowledge that education, self-motivation, and hard work were the ways to escape disadvantages and disillusionment.

Inspired and inspirational, the song reflects the spirit and shrewdness that courses throughout Run-D.M.C. That includes a detailed account of the trio’s not-so secret weapon (“Jam-Master Jay”), purpose statement (“Hollis Crew (Krush-Groove 2)”), and a revolutionary hybrid autobiographical narrative-dis track (“Sucker M.C.’s (Krush-Groove 1)”) widely regarded as one of the best hip-hop songs ever created. The same can be said for every moment on Run-D.M.C.

MoFi SuperVinyl
Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analog 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 virtually indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label's engineers hear in the mastering lab.

On Hindsight, Nick Zanca's first album as a singer-songwriter, Zanca leads a crack band of musicians from all over New York's musical map. After nearly a decade making electronic music under the name Mister Lies, Zanca began focusing his energies as a producer, working with adventurous up-and-coming artists such as Wendy Eisenberg and Lucy Liyou and sculpting songs of his own. Hindsight moves boldly beyond the synthetic textures of his early career, blending AOR, jazz fusion, electroacoustic improv, and even musical theater into wholly organic music. He examines age-old quandaris from his own unique viewpoint: the dehumanizing effects of industry and capitalism, a childhood developmental diagnosis, a difficult romantic situation. It's unapologetically itself, honest - and relatable. It doesn't equivocate: Zanca's world is ours, too.

" In 2022, Guts brought together his musical family for his ‘Estrellas’ album. An ambitious project that brought together musicians from: Franc, Cuba and various African countries. For a journey that was as rich artistically as it was humanly. The list of superlatives was almost endless, "Formidable", "incredible", "unforgettable" and "magical" all thrown into the pot, during these magical moments in the Dakar studio. From the seventeen tracks heard on the original album, three have been entrusted to the expert and inventive hands of four producers, who have come up with new interpretations bringing Africa and the Caribbean together for a modern dancefloor.

‘Por Que Ou Ka Fe Sa’ (Poirier Remix)
From his studio in Montreal, Canadian Poirier has opted for a strong groove and relentless bass drum to keep out intruders, putting vocalists David Walters and Brenda Navarrete in a rhythmic cocoon. Accompanied in a slightly moody bassline that adds some driving muscle to the track. The hooky guitar line eventually gives way to the saxophone that emerges from the mix to parade around the front line. The original electric piano is replaced by a synth pad that loops and spins driving the track to its conclusion.

‘Por Que Ou Ka Fe Sa’ (David Walters Remix)
Before recording this track, David Walters and Brenda Navarette didn't even know each other. So in the magic of the moment that brought them together is a genuine and sincere artistic bond. It is no longer Guts but David who is at the musical helm, and before they too can savour the connection between the two artists, the dancers will have to pass through an overheated corridor where a Caribbean rhythm resonates with percussion. Digital and woodwind swirl and clash until the vocal encounter with the artists. It's a moment of respite that's as suspended as it is life-saving, because the exit is also via the famous corridor.

‘San Lazaro’ (Bosq Remix)
On Bosq’s mix, he’s opted to maintain things focused on the dancefloor, keeping the percussion persistent for the unleashed bodies of the dancers to smile. It's once again the walking bass line rises to the forefront of the groove, softening the shocks of the relentless kick drum. Roberto Valdes's timeless piano has disappeared, while guitars float and add to the atmosphere. The track is no longer awash in cigar smoke. Under Akemis's powerful vocals the low ceiling has disappeared, and the open roof is more a brass-lit spectacle. That doesn't make things any less overheated though, this one is sweaty until the end.

‘Medewui’ (Captain Planet Remix)
Captain Planet brings the dancer’s attention to the Afrobeat flavored jam that rocked the original, highlighting the Pat Kalla & Assane Mboup duet. Despite the track remaining mid tempo, laying back is no longer the order of the day as this mix really develops. The drums are more present jolting along with the organ in the first half. Once all the storytellers have taken their microphones, the rhythmic beats are doubled and the track is carried towards a frenzy of Afro-Latin dancing. Fired up by the brass and percussion, it’s this almost switch up that takes hold of the second part of the tune, with some righteous authority and relentless piano and trumpet."

Fractal Void is an avant-garde duo based in Düsseldorf, Germany. Their experimental music blends electronic and contemporary genres located somewhere in the field of musical tension between ambient, drone, halfstep and floor-affine IDM. During their live sets, Fractal Void create vertical reflections by processing sounds through software and interaction with real instruments in every unique musical performance like the Chinese contemporary calligraphic practice Dishu.

Their debut album Elemental Collection unveils a dense and lavishly layered transformation of artificial organic signals, sculpting an auditory world filled with emotive landscapes, overgrown polyrhythms and futuristic elements. Embedded within each track are field recordings serving as the heartbeat of the album. Through innovative and expansive deconstruction, Fractal Void create an energetic and sometimes contemplative experience.

The persons behind Fractal Void:
Back in 2008, their musical journey began with winning a Spectrasonics competition using field recordings of a locker door, that was implemented as a bass synth. Their collaboration was continued as producers of the eight-piece electronic jazz project „Mothers of Guru“.

Marcus Scheltinga is a composer, producer and multi-instrumentalist. Besides studying jazz trombone at the Conservatorium Hilversum and the Folkwanghochschule, he works as a musical director, lecturer and coach in 39 countries around the world. From ZDF sound design to live and studio performances with international greats, his own productions have included such as Grammy winner Larry Carlton and Peter Erskine. Mid-east and Indian inspired, Marcus is a true story teller as a musician and composer.

BORGBORG is a producer and DJ. She moves freely in different styles of electronic music with a focus on avant-garde driving techno, dark hypnotic vibes seamlessly blended with deconstructed beats, noise and timeless elements of IDM. She is a member of About Repetition, a group of artists dedicated to the research of repetition through artistic means, collaborating with a wide range of other collectives across Europe and co-founder of the techno event series „SCHLEIFEN“. 

On their second album, Winter Pageant, The Softies move forward with focused delight. It's the combination of Jen Sbragia (All Girl Summer Fun Band) and Rose Melberg (Tiger Trap, Gaze, Go Sailor) that molds The Softies' panoply: feathers and thorns, fawn and fearless, fable and friction. Originally released in 1997, Winter Pageant is the drama of utter melancholia documenting the broken promises, missed phone calls, conversations stalled, love lost. Colossal tasks recorded two guitars deep, forming a new Iliad, chapters on brave deeds and the power of love on the move. You can live for love, or you could live for the splendid cascade of guitar on guitar, voice over voice: The Softies. Winter Pageant was recorded by Stuart Hallerman (Soundgarden, KARP) at his Avast! recording studio in Seattle, Washington.

Sliding between the bodies in the street, cutting across the contrails that bisect our sky, Wand find melody and the anxiety beats as they hum the soundtrack for a new gravitational center. Seeking connections against the plan of niche interest and anonymity, Vertigo is the sound of slippage, rocks of contradiction (in soft focus); feet lost, regained, lost again, a multi-chromatic swaying, more automatic, associative, directed, in time. Determining to work backwards (or at least insideout) this time, Wand recorded everything in their own studio; pieces cut from improvisations and reshaped, writing from within the performance, without the woodshed. Unconsciously, in the shadow of themselves, and turning round and round (and round), they kept finding that empty space and playing what it implied. Everybody took on a new position in addition to the old one. It was intuitive, strangely ego-less . . . going somewhere they"d never been and not knowing what they were doing, but committing and recommitting, unafraid to eject in a constant positive forward momentum.

Sliding between the bodies in the street, cutting across the contrails that bisect our sky, Wand find melody and the anxiety beats as they hum the soundtrack for a new gravitational center. Seeking connections against the plan of niche interest and anonymity, Vertigo is the sound of slippage, rocks of contradiction (in soft focus); feet lost, regained, lost again, a multi-chromatic swaying, more automatic, associative, directed, in time. Determining to work backwards (or at least insideout) this time, Wand recorded everything in their own studio; pieces cut from improvisations and reshaped, writing from within the performance, without the woodshed. Unconsciously, in the shadow of themselves, and turning round and round (and round), they kept finding that empty space and playing what it implied. Everybody took on a new position in addition to the old one. It was intuitive, strangely ego-less . . . going somewhere they"d never been and not knowing what they were doing, but committing and recommitting, unafraid to eject in a constant positive forward momentum.

2024 repress.

Dive into the spiritual depths of Carnatic Music (Southern Indian classical music) - An enchanting journey of devotion and transcendence pulsates with raw sincerity and profound spirituality, casting a spell that transcends boundaries of belief.

Originally released on CD in 2000 from South Indian Carnatic music label and reissued on vinyl and digital first time in 2019 by Time Capsule. New 2024 repress vinyl has different tracks on the B side and it still remains as the reverse cut as the 2019 version.

2024 new vinyl repress with different track list on the side B. Reverse Cut Vinyl - This record plays from the inner groove to the outer groove. Comes with a hype sticker.

Born into a musician family steeped in the south Indian tradition of vocal music, the Mumbai-raised singer took advantage of the city’s cosmopolitism to study northern Hindustani disciplines, one of the few vocalists to train in both. Now revered as one of the greatest living exponents of Carnatic music, she received an Oscar nomination for her work on Ang Lee’s Life of Pi.

Within the first minute of opener Sada Bada (Slokam), Jayashri’s intensely spiritual vocals give a clear indication of why she has been increasingly embraced by a new generation of western listeners who’ve made the natural leap from ambient soundscapes to new age and devotional music. Accompanied on the following Bhajeham Bhajeham by a hypnotic rhythmic backing of mridangam drums, bells and the drone of a tambura, over its epic twenty-minute length she stretches her voice into a variety of spellbinding forms – her softly enunciated dedications to Shiva enveloping you with their immersive warmth and cosmic beauty. Keshvaya Namaha is an invocation to Lord Vishnu, the protector of creation and one of the other major deities of the Hindu tradition, while Raghavam recites the names and attributes of two of his most popular avatars: the heroic Rama and the playful, loving Krishna.

One of the album’s new-found devotees is label boss Kay Suzuki: “every time I listen I’m amazed at how such a small ensemble can create such a deep musical landscape. The incredible production plays a big part. That intricate percussion sounds so clear and sits in all the right pockets rhythmically and sonically. Just by following this groove I’m put into a timeless zone, but when her voice hits on top of that gorgeous drone sound and I focus on the details of her small melodies within melodies, my heart centres and I find myself in a blissful place.”

As professor of cultural and political theory in Universicty of East London, Jeremy Gilbert states in the album’s liner notes, the mesmerising sincerity and deep spirituality of these songs present an intense and spiritual charge that will appeal to an audience well beyond believers and devotees of Hinduism.

When the world's chatter is hushed to a whisper and emptiness replaces clutter, time falls away completely, exposing a vast, open canvas for the imagination fill with reflection, contemplation and abstraction. On their first collaborative album, released via Caterina Barbieri's light-year's label, Grand River and Abul Mogard gaze longingly into the abyss, capturing atemporality, splendour and tranquility with confident, impressionistic sonic strokes. Dynamic and poignant, 'In uno spazio immenso' balances on a knife-edge between booming, operatic grandeur and soft-focus simplicity, casting as much light on the subtle outlines and illusory rhythms as it does its dense, almost overpowering textures.

Berlin-based Dutch-Italian composer and sound designer Aimée Portioli, aka Grand River, has been evolving her unique musical language since she released 'Crescente' on Donato Dozzy and Neel's Spazio Disponibile imprint in 2017. A trained linguist, she uses her instrumentation and advanced processes to challenge cultural perceptions, portraying emotions and moods rather than fixed, visual images. Abul Mogard meanwhile is just one of veteran Italian producer Guido Zen's many aliases, and over a series of acclaimed albums for labels like Ecstatic, Houndstooth and VCO, he's muddled fiction with stark reality, shaking kosmische synth fantasies into post-industrial ambience and blissful shoegaze memories.