quête:something weird

SPIRIT!, the third LP from HUNNY, is about embracing the weird-an album born from uncertainty and built on instinct. It"s a testament to breaking free, starting over, and tuning out the noise. Now the sole project of longtime frontman Jason Yarger, HUNNY has shed its past shape to become something more fully itself. SPIRIT! doesn"t reinvent the wheel so much as keep it spinning forward. Across 15 tracks, the album-co-produced by Yarger and former bassist Kevin Grimmett with drums by former drummer Joey Anderson-leans into the sounds that have always lit HUNNY"s fuse: hooky post-punk, gleaming synths, and shout-along choruses praised by Alternative Press, Kerrang!, and Rock Sound. But it also pushes further-into abstraction, playfulness, and freedom. It"s the latest turn for HUNNY, a band long celebrated for shapeshifting through genres and decades with style on fan-favorite releases like Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. (2019) and new planet heaven (2023)-always evolving, yet unmistakably themselves. That dynamic energy carries into their high-voltage live show, sharpened on tours with Joywave, Mom Jeans, Waterparks, and State Champs.

Comprising of sisters Eva and Grace Tedeschi, The Cords are the brightest new indiepop band from Scotland and this is theri debut. They started playing drums when they were little kids and later found that they liked 80s and 90s indie music more than their peers did, and so formed a band, just the two of them, with Grace on drums and Eva on guitar - and the songs started to flow. With only a cassette and a flexi single released so far (both of which sold out in a matter of hours), Eva and Grace honed their skills by playing a whole series of gigs with some of the biggest names in Scottish pop. Their first show was with The Vaselines, and since then they have played with Camera Obscura, Belle and Sebastian, BMX Bandits and others, while also sharing stages with the new generation of indiepop stars: the Umbrellas, Chime School, Lightheaded. Like all great pop bands, The Cords have taken familiar ingredients and created something utterly fresh. Older indie fans will hear echoes of The Shop Assistants, The Primitives, Tiger Trap and Talulah Gosh, but they will hear something else too: a yearning, dreamy melodic power that takes the songs into darker, stranger places. Younger pop fans won't care about these old reference points: what they will hear is the sound of two young women doing something utterly exciting: playing loud guitar and loud drums, taking analogue instruments and hitting them hard in the service of immediate and infectious pop tunes, and not giving a second thought about the digital world that wants to own everything we do. The Cords sound free: they remind us that pop music, played right, is expressive, liberating, joyful and deeply personal. First single `Fabulist' is a sweet and catchy pop song that races along, so headlong and hooky that, on first listen, you could miss the fact that it's a wholehearted take-down of people who lie for a living. And the album is a fun rollercoaster ride from that point onwards, with the real stars of this record being Eva's sinuous guitar and silky vocals, and Grace's clattering, expressive sing-song drums. It's the sound of two sisters having an intense musical conversation with each other, pushing each other on to greater heights, exhilarated by the set of perfect pop songs they have magicked up. DIGIPAK CD, LP on BABY BLUE VINYL.

Tuk Smith is the kind of rock 'n' roll ambassador you didn't think existed anymore. Punk maverick from rural Georgia, Biters frontman, producer and solo artist, he's seen the best and worst of a music industry in constant flux. By turns it's left him critically acclaimed, poised for stadiums, dropped, burned out, back in the game and beloved by those for whom rock is still everything. Now based in Nashville, and with his own label Gypsy Rose Records, he creates from a more real place than most. "I want to do something that means something to people," Tuk says, "because a lot of shit nowadays is so disposable and so plastic. I just don't connect with that. I'd like to do things that impact people positively. It's a weird time on the planet, so to have songs about hope, but not be cheesy about it, it's something I think we need with songwriting. That's the kind of music I want to hear." Again, there's that dichotomy he speaks of. "Rock 'n' roll is essentially the illusion of not giving a fuck, right? Like, you know Axl Rose was doing sit-ups and jump rope, and Paul Stanley was on a cardio machine, and they come out and act like it just happens. The point is I sit at that piano many hours, working on this stuff."

“In a concert, I show something with a beginning, a middle and an end. But, there is no end. Of course, there is no end. Because I am the music, and I am still here.” - Sophie Agnel

‘Learning’ - Sophie Agnel’s first solo LP, feels like the dark, physical inversion of her excellent ‘Song’ which came out on Relative Pitch earlier this year. Sinking her unique sound into vinyl for the first time, the LP arrives as Agnel recovers from a brain tumour - a shocking discovery that will require Agnel to start again with the piano. It’s a terrifying prospect, but Agnel has been here before, having reorientated herself almost entirely away from her early classical training over the last 4 decades of her work.

‘When I was young I had very good ears, oriole absolute. Then later I began to make strange sounds with my piano, to do different kinds of music. I was more interested in the sounds than the melody, for example. I remember once I sat down in a shop to try to read the scores of Schubert and there was a light emitting a very strong bzzzzzzz. And I couldn't listen to my oriole internal - I couldn't read the score. I was entirely subjugated by the sound of the light. And I understood that something had changed. Ten years before I could read and not hear the light. Now I understood that my ears were completely different. I was more open to the sounds of life.”

Born in Paris in the 60’s and playing her parents piano as soon as she could stand up, Agnel quickly grew tired of the classical world. What frustrated her was the strange disconnect between the frame of the piano and its keyboard - a weird boundary that seemed to form some hushed code of etiquette. “The first thing I put inside the piano was a plastic goblet. I’d seen a few pianists do it: Fred Van Hove, for example, put rubber balls inside his. But what didn’t appeal to me was that there seemed to be no link between the pianos outside and inside.”If you see Agnel play now, the body of her piano is littered with fish tins, ping pong balls, wooden blocks - not that you’d recognize their sounds. Having absorbed the language of the European avant-garde, Agnel is known for pulling the piano’s interior outside of itself by tipping her handbag into it. But these ‘strange sounds’ don’t just come from Cage - they also share the poetic force of Cecil Taylor and ‘Learning’ demonstrates that Agnel’s work on the piano's keyboard is just as important as what she’s littered on its strings. The record lets loose her ability to unleash a formidable sound mass and then rope it back to one single, clarifying note. With one hand, Agnel plays 88 tuned drums and on the other an enormous guitar - with the LP rotating through oncoming trains, and blues harmonica and feedback. It’s single minded stuff, borne out of a dedication to a wholly personal language of gesture, accumulation and deft reduction. “Maybe when I’m 80 I will not need anything,” Agnel says in a recent film made at her home. “I will do the same but with one note, and one finger. Maybe it's enough.”

‘Learning’ arrives in a reverse board sleeve designed by Jereon Wille. Recorded live at Cafe OTO by Billy Steiger on 6th June 2023 and 4th June 2024. Mixed by James Dunn and Benjamin Pagier. Side B edited by Benjamin Pagier. Mastered and cut by Loop-O. Front photograph by Aimé Agnel. Typography and layout by Jeroen Wille.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

OOOOH! by Alex Bad Baby Lukashevsky with Cocoa Corner (2025)

Celebrated veteran of Toronto’s music scene, known for his boundary-pushing approach to folk and avant-garde music, twists rock music into strange and brilliant new shapes with the help of young jazz players, U.S. Girls, and his own immensely talented son.



OOOOH! is hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Made in the spirit of unity,
humanity, and poetry — disobediently renouncing the glory of personal triumph for the
generosity of an honest experiment. On the last track of the album you’ll hear “Or do you only ever never want to make a single enemy? / That’s not freedom or humility / It’s nothing, honestly.” Oooh, that's a bad baby!

A celebrated Toronto songwriter and performer, Alex Lukashevsky has always been disobedient. Which simply means, nothing is off the table when he’s looking for his
poetic voice; when trying to find the realest I of the teller. As he sings on the lead track “that musician that’s dead” The musician is radical/ it’s the world that’s demented/ listening with their eyes, the music looks dented/ they’re over-represented.
OOOOH! was recorded in January 2024 at Sound Department in Toronto, engineered by Patrick Lefler (ROY), mixed by Grammy-nominated producer Matt Smith. All the songs were tracked live off the floor in two days, with one extra day for recording vocals, to keep the recording fully alive and breathing. As leader of Deep Dark United, as a solo performer, and a sideman in Brodie Wests’ Eucalyptus and Luka Kuplowsky’s Ryokan Band, Alex has been an outsized influence on the Toronto music scene that spawned acts like Broken Social Scene and Owen Pallett. (Pallett, who has toured with Lukashevsky, went so far as to record an entire album’s worth of Alex’s songs, backed
by a full orchestra.)

Lukashevsky has approached each of his albums and projects as something completely new, using only the musical boundaries he creates with each song. Even when he
has recorded songs with nothing but his voice and his own acoustic guitar accompaniment, the results are never “stripped down” or “back to basics,”
Gong! How do you get to heaven / have fun! have fun!
It’s cool to approach music as a game of “spot the influence”; Burt Bacharach-meets-Black Flag; Lana Del Rey-meets-LCD Soundsystem etc. Glorified mash-ups are promising because of their conversational nature. But they can turn us into hyperboreans; blowing cold air beyond ourselves while doing what we can to remain warm. To devise a game or a narrative is to have a winner and a loser, but we all know that just as you win/ so you lose. And does anything really change? Alex Lukashevsky and Cocoa Corner are more at ease drawing blind contours or playing an old game like consequences. They let things add up without knowing particularly how. Cognition is recognition.

Lukashevsky, in addition to writing all the songs, plays guitar and sings on OOOOH!, doing both in ways that are soulful and spikey at the same time. Joining him on guitar and vocals is his oldest child, Charlie Lukashevsky, who, at 23, is already a talented performer and songwriter in his own right. Cocoa Corner also includes Aidan McConnell, an in-demand drummer and composer, Jack Johnston, a jazz bassist and Barry Harris acolyte, and percussionist Evan Cartwright (The Weather Station, U.S. Girls, Cola, Tasseomancy), who plays steel pan and marching drum.

Working with his son and with other younger musicians is central to the album’s
unpredictable aesthetic. It reinvigorated the sound in unexpected ways. Lukashevsky says, “I had to reconsider my own instincts. I had to deal with being 99 years old.”
In addition to these performers, the album includes a tasty contribution from Meg
Remy, the visionary musician and producer who is the leader of the critically acclaimed
project U.S. Girls. Remy duets with Lukashevsky on the imagistic and sprawling album
closer “things keep happening.”
About that album title: OOOOH! is taken straight from “that musician that’s dead” an
arch and unhinged comment on the exertion required to navigate a lifetime of music making.
Lukashevsky’s delivery of that one emotive word is a kind of cultural posture, but also a
hundred percent primitive expression. The impact is never less than visceral. His vocal
delivery ranges through rich baritone blues to keening falsettos to a kind of sprechstimme that periodically steps out from the music to grab the listener’s shirt. He
doesn’t sound too nice, but he is sincere. When life gives you lemons lament.
For OOOOH! his first official full-length album since 2012’s Too Late Blues, (a collection of knotty-yet-effervescent tunes built upon the enchantingly serpentine harmonies of Lukashevsky and his vocal collaborators, Felicity Williams (Bahamas, Bernice) and Daniela Gesundheit (Snowblink, HYDRA)), Alex has once again broken apart and rebuilt his own approach to music. Or rather (because that sounds too over-determined), he
has allowed his music to build itself into strange new shapes that only fleetingly and
coincidentally, but happily, resemble anything that might be called rock and roll. There is some editorializing within the song’s lyrics— Lukashevsky even cheekily contributes to the “spot the influence” game with the line “Muddy Waters, Rite of Spring!” a funny preemptive strike against anyone already reaching for some variation of avant-blues to describe what the song is up to here. In fact there are many names checked on this record (literally and in spirit); they are the lily pads that trace the path of this expression! Palestrina, Peter Pears and Benjamin Brittain, Andrés Segovia, Stravinsky, Lotte Lenya, Alice Coltrane, Skip James, Chuck Berry, D’Gary, Betty Carter, Mukhtiyar Ali, Chuck D, Yoko Ono, Hailu Mergia, David Bowie, Jane Siberry. rhythm is a skeleton mansion / haunted by melody / feckless prodigy / the world is under a spell / cast by some demon angel / Practice day and night / Try as hard as hell / no one can sing that well Musicians are often worried by the way in which they are prepared to fail rather
than how they would like to succeed; it’s such a deep concern that it tempers their creativity and shackles their process. Current cultural proclivities, tend to comfort a certain kind of artistic failure and abnegate another kind. How many testimonials, full of heartfelt care and investment, have you heard for Taylor Swift, and yet a craftsman like Chris Weisman is often dismissed easily as though he’s doing something anti-social. what’s throwing itself in my ears and my eyes / arrogant devil ad hominem christ.
The music you will hear on this recording veers off in multiple directions at once,
and features a rock and roll spirit with a divergent heart. This is no sclerotic clomp of the Average Rock Song, but in fact a flood of humanity in all its darkness and moodiness and unpredictability. If most performers make songs that are like sports cars or pickup trucks to drive around, Lukashevsky has built something more akin to a rowboat in a tree: it’s weird and beautiful.

Jessica93, prodigal bastard of our glorious french squat scene, relocated on Born Bad : this is no picnic. Geoffroy Laporte, alone against all odds, alternates bass and guitar to build harsh loops with a drum machine spitting pre-Gulf War patterns. That’s where it gets tricky : every musical posse claims him. Grunge, sure, but Jessica doesn’t indulge in necrophilia. His circuit is punk, he doesn’t dress the part though. Cold wave, the atmosphere fits somehow, but the gear does not. The self-confident rock horde saw him playing with hair in his eyes… but he never joined the Party. Metal had something to say but sadly, nobody listened. Maybe it's time to give it a rest and let Jessica93 cook his great misery broth on her own, called « 666 tours de périph’ » (666 laps on the beltway). Witnessing Jessica93 live makes you dread that he'll get up the next morning, drive 200 miles and one nap later kick it again, when it takes us a good week to recover from the bad half of that same evening. Like so many other unknown soldiers during our very own world war of music, he patrols small venues relentlessly.



At the heart of this cultural pentacle painted by french weirdos Bryan's Magic Tears, and Carine Krinator, Jessica93 has built a sound validated by years of chosen vagrancy, birthing bands with joyously stupid monikers, in the humid jungle of small labels. Jessica93's debut album had a track celebrating Omar Little, HBO’s gay bandit from Baltimore. This story begins on the beltway, where Florence Rey, accidental copkiller turned to political icon of the 90’s. Geoffroy offers his brilliant analysis : " C’est la police qui nous tire d’ssus / C’est mon trou d’balle qui leur chie d’ssus « (Police shoots us down / my dripping asshole gets the job done).



A previous album was haunted by bedbugs, this one is essentially about love, a delicious scourge just as hard to eradicate. Two black diamonds peek out of the LP : ’’La colline du crack’’, heartbreak song about the ultimate temptation of violent delights, located on crackhead central in Paris. The brilliant chorus, ‘Take my hand and come with me to Crack Hill’ will put an end to the rumours, almost everything was really false. And Bébé Requin, alternative obituary that’ll make you shiver, where our nice couple states ‘’on kiffe la drogue dure et les ptits chiens’ (‘we love hard drugs and little dogs’). And that is the reason we face the wall of sound jostled by unnecessary shoulder thrusts: those nice fat chunks of charcoal poetry, hidden under light sarcasm.



The rest of the record demonstrates the know-how acquired in loop-by-loop construction of ruins that are pleasant to squat in together. There’s your classic doom delicatessen, with bits of heavy metal inside, crafted with the manic care typical of hard wankers. Arthur Satàn, who produced and mixed the album at home in Bordeaux, helped him get his head out of the reverb safe house. And Jessica93 took the opportunity to switch to the dark side of the language : french at last. Worth the wait ! Sing along : « nique sa mère / nique sa grosse mère » (translate that yourself).

Two-time Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter Madi Diaz is known for her raw and unflinching explorations of love - and now she"s delivered her most powerful statement yet. Stripped down and emotionally direct, "Fatal Optimist" captures Madi at her most intimate and courageous. Together with producer Gabe Wax (known for his work with Soccer Mommy and Zach Bryan), she set out to pare the songs back to their essence, relying solely on her performance and songwriting. The result is a classic and timeless indie-folk album. "Fatal Optimist" follows her critically acclaimed 2023 album "Weird Faith".

Two-time Grammy-nominated singer-songwriter Madi Diaz is known for her raw and unflinching explorations of love - and now she"s delivered her most powerful statement yet. Stripped down and emotionally direct, "Fatal Optimist" captures Madi at her most intimate and courageous. Together with producer Gabe Wax (known for his work with Soccer Mommy and Zach Bryan), she set out to pare the songs back to their essence, relying solely on her performance and songwriting. The result is a classic and timeless indie-folk album. "Fatal Optimist" follows her critically acclaimed 2023 album "Weird Faith".

Pratts & Payne, the South London pub that sits around the corner from the famed home studio of producer Dan Carey, has an important place in the history of Royel Otis. When making their debut album with Carey in early 2023, the Australian duo - childhood friends Otis Pavlovic and Royel Maddell - would decamp to the pub to finish lyrics and make decisions on the direction of their first LP. "Dan would ask us to record vocals," Royel remembers, "and we'd say, 'Just give us half an hour, we're popping to Pratts & Payne', and we'd have a pint, a few shots, and get some lyrics down." Eventually, it made such a mark that they named the record PRATTS & PAIN. Across the debut album, Royel Otis swing between melodic, pop- inspired indie and woozy psych, but it never feels tied to one lane. As soon as one style or mood has outstayed its welcome, they handbrake turn into psychedelic weirdness or dissonant noise, keeping everybody on their toes. After the table was laid on the two EPs, PRATTS & PAIN brings everything from the band's history together on a record that's reverent towards their beginnings but unafraid to push forwards into new sounds. This loose, open formula for what makes a Royel Otis song is written all over PRATTS & PAIN, an album defined by its sense of fun and adventure. On the tracks 'Velvet' and 'Big Ciggie', Carey's 11-year-old nephew Archie appears on drums, and a spontaneous energy ran through the sessions, one which can be heard across the album. On first single 'Adored', they master the perfect indie-pop hit, while 'Sonic Blue' keeps this underlying energy but sets screeching guitars over the top. 'Velvet', meanwhile, has the stomping energy of Talking Heads, while 'Molly' is an unsettling and deeply atmospheric slow jam. Whatever sonic template the music might be based on though, the crux of Royel Otis comes back to a foundational DNA of mutual trust. Royel says: "We have fun together, and it's not difficult. I trust what Otis thinks and what he does, and I back it. If you back each other, something good comes from it."

Can you believe it? Devendra Banhart's Cripple Crow - originally released by XL in 2005 - is turning 20 years old. This was the 5th album from the Venezuelan American artist who is considered the pioneer of the "Freak Folk" and "New Weird America" movements. To celebrate - Devendra has compiled a reissue of the out of print release that features a 3rd Bonus LP (on Clear Green Smoke Vinyl) featuring 9 bonus tracks, including 1 B-Side, 5 previously unreleased demos, 2 previously unreleased live tracks, and 1 unearthed smash hit from the recording sessions. This release is the first on his newly created Heavy Flowers label. The album received a "Best New Music" 8.4 review from Pitchfork upon its release. The release date will fall 1 day prior to the actual 20th Anniversary, which will be the first time Devendra is early for anything. Now THAT is something to celebrate! Limited to 2000 units on 3xLP with Bonus LP on Clear Green Smoke Vinyl. 36 tracks of music and 1 track of .... well... you decide! "Cripple Crow is undoubtedly impressive, vastly singular but entirely accessible, and an inspired listening experience where Banhart again proves himself as one of the more talented and charismatic forces in modern music." - Pitchfork

Pickle Darling has always existed just outside of the periphery. In a heightened time of fast music, algorithmic consumption and rapid virality, Lukas Mayo (they/them) has remained focused on the album. Their discography is a reflection of their creative evolution, and they deliberately look for ways to push sonic boundaries from release to release. Since debuting with Bigness in 2019 followed by Cosmonaut in 2021, Mayo has curated a catalog that is deeply personal and strangely tactile, where tiny, unexpected details_an off-kilter loop, a whispered aside, the warmth of an old Casio_become as crucial as melody itself. Their 2023 LP Laundromat was a precise and polished expansion of that world, a record that felt like it had been carefully placed behind glass. Their forthcoming fourth album, Battlebots, by contrast, is unruly and full of static: a collection of songs that feel like they could only ever exist on scratched CD-Rs passed between friends. Self-recorded in their home studio in Christchurch, New Zealand, it finds Mayo taking a scalpel to their own songwriting. Songs were stretched, chopped, reversed. Some ideas started as "unlistenable garbage" before morphing into something unexpectedly beautiful. If a song felt too straightforward, Mayo had to mess it up. That friction of old and new, organic and digital, melody and noise is what drives Battlebots. Drawing inspiration from a strange, scattered lineage: Four Tet's Rounds, The Books, Neneh Cherry's Broken Politics, The Wrens' Three types of reading ambiguity, but also the emotional directness of 2000s pop like Madonna's Ray of Light and Robyn's Body Talk, the result is an album that feels like a glitch in the system, pushing against past constraints while embracing the weird, beautiful mess of making something new.

No one can help you build something beautiful quite like those who know you best. Alan Sparhawk knows this well. In his years in Low, he built decades of stirring music with his wife and lifelong creative partner Mimi Parker. In recent years, he has performed around Minnesota with his son Cyrus in DERECHO Rhythm Section, a funk band that also frequently features his daughter Hollis on vocals. There's an irreplaceable naturalism that comes with this kind of dynamic. Those who know you understand you. They love you. They want to help you bring your greatest passions to fruition. So it made sense that Sparhawk would turn to fellow Duluth musicians Trampled by Turtles to realize his latest record. As friends and mentees of Low's, taken under Sparhawk and Parker's wing from their earliest days as a bar band, Trampled by Turtles have performed with Sparhawk countless times over the years. The Duluth ties run deep: "There's a certain vibe that has to do with underdog syndrome, coming from a small town," Sparhawk muses. "Some of it is the weird grind and slackness that being at the mercy of Mother Nature puts in you. It humbles you." The two artists hold the kind of ironclad bond. Following Parker's passing in 2022, Trampled by Turtles invited Sparhawk to join them on tour to give him a space to be surrounded by friends. Occasionally, he would join them onstage. The outpouring of love was palpable every time they played together, a surge of warmth. When playing together is that powerful, why stop there? In winter, 2024, Sparhawk and Trampled by Turtles created With Trampled by Turtles, a record exactly as its name implies: Collective. Communal. Fraternal. Empathetic. A vessel for comfort, a reminder of the harmony that can exist when surrounded by those closest to you. Where White Roses, My God, Sparhawk's last album, plunged headfirst into electronica and radical vocal modulation, With Trampled by Turtles leans into the folk and bluegrass stylings of its backing band, Sparhawk's voice now completely unvarnished. With Trampled by Turtles is far more than just Alan Sparhawk and Trampled by Turtles. It's an affirmation of all the people who have been vital in Sparhawk's life and music, and an opportunity to hold each of their gifts into the light. It's producer Nat Harvie, who has been collaborating and performing with him for years. It's Sparhawk's daughter Hollis, who duets with her father on "Not Broken." And it's Mimi Parker, too: "Too High," "Princess Road Surgery," and "Not Broken" were all tracks she and Sparhawk had been working on in the last few years. These songs finally found a setting that stirringly commemorates them, bolstered by a full ensemble to make every note sing. Their presence is a kind of eternal connection to Parker, a way her musical grace will keep flourishing.

Mrs. Piss is a new collaboration between Chelsea Wolfe and Jess Gowrie . Drawing on their collective rock, metal, and industrial influences, the project began while the two were touring around together during Wolfe's Hiss Spun album in 2017. The result is their debut album Self-Surgery, which was recorded at The Dock Studio in Sacramento, CA and in Wolfe's home studio, The Canyon. These songs feel more urgent and visceral than anything either of them has created before: heaviness spurred on by punk spirit. Chelsea Wolfe (vocals, guitar): "Working on this project brought Jess and I so much closer as songwriters and production partners, after reuniting as friends and bandmates. It was freeing and fun to channel some wild energies that I don't typically put into my own music. We tried not to overthink the songs as we were writing them, but at the same time we did consciously put a lot into crafting them into our own weird sonic vision. This project was a chance for us to do things our own way, on our own terms, and we plan to invite more womxn musicians along for future Mrs. Piss recordings." CW Jess Gowrie (drums, guitar, bass, programming): "To me, Mrs. Piss represents a musical chemistry cut short long ago that now gets a second chance. Creating with Chelsea has always been very liberating for me, and we both push each other to try new things: anything and everything. Both of us have grown so much as writers and musicians since our first band together (Red Host), and with the journeys we had to take separately to get there, we both have so much more to say; so much more pain and anger to express. That said, we also had a lot of fun doing it, not to mention how freeing it is to not give a f-k and to just create." JG "Doomy chugs, ethereal vocals and massive distortion sounds are the order of the day, summoning the menacing timbres that fueled Wolfe's Abyss and Hiss Spun records" GUITAR WORLD "a grungy, sludgy new project that defies expectations" REVOLVER "Together, they make a grandly grungy noise - something bigger and more anthemic than what we're used to hearing from Wolfe" STEREOGUM "urgent and abrasive" CONSEQUENCE OF SOUND " thundering tracks that sound as if they had diliberately set about to destroy a roomful of amplifiers" BLACKBOOK

Old Juniper is a new album from The Down Hill Strugglers, their first in seven years and first to feature all original songs and tunes.

"These guys are a first rate string band! Walker, Jackson and Eli have absorbed the old tradition, and the songs and tunes they wrote for this album are outstanding."
- Tony Garnier
(Bob Dylan, Asleep at the Wheel)

"From the first track “I’m Gettin’ Ready to Go” to the last “Let the Rich Go Bust", this is a wonderful collection of original songs and tunes by The Down Hill Strugglers (Walker Shepard, Jackson Lynch and Eli Smith).

Based in NYC they have been playing and recording together for 15+ years—this is their first in seven years and it’s a doozy. Old and new, evocative, current—all original. And I, as one who’s always had one foot in “old weird America” and the other in new weird America, love this recording.

The Down Hill Strugglers have, as Nathan Salsburg put it in his notes, 'an exquisite sensitivity to the seam where collective tradition and individual artistry meet….' I couldn’t agree more."
- Alice Gerrard

"If it’s possible to be at the forefront of something old, The Down Hill Strugglers are right there with this new recording! Imaginative arrangements of interesting tunes played with soul, all while reaching back to the best of the old mountain sounds."
- Bruce Molsky

"Throughout the record, the musical texture of Old Juniper shifts and blooms. Eli, Jackson, and Walker exchange roles freely— the banjo, fiddle, and guitar change hands almost every track. No matter their instrument, the three fall into place with the tune their guide. As these dynamics build and transform, a sound raw and beautifully sincere appears.

This album of new old-time tunes and songs will surely be a welcome addition to the well loved canon of American traditional music."
- Nora Brown

"How wonderful is it that The Down Hill Strugglers are releasing a new album? I’ve been a fan of theirs from the beginning and will happily spend time with anything they put out!

I see The Down Hill Strugglers as the primary successors of the great and longstanding tradition of urban interpreter-performers of American vernacular string band music - They pick up where the NLCR left off, with Cohen’s considerable creative guidance ever in their hearts and minds. “Old Juniper” is a testament to the vibrancy of this legacy."
- Jake Xerxes Fussell

“(Cheer-Accident have) earned a reputation for extreme left turns - following collections of complex, metallic art rock with albums stuffed with piano-driven balladry cementing a practice of defying expectations that’s endured for more than three or four decades, depending on when you recognize as the group's actual genesis” - THE WIRE

From Cheer-Accident's liner notes: It’s weird to have so few words to say about our best album to date, but… well…

Our Best Album? Out of 26?

That’s not nothing.

What makes it “our best?” Is it the songs? Is it the production? Is it the convergence of those two elements? What if we added “accessibility?” It is, after all, a pop album. You know, very much in the same way that “The Why Album” and “What Sequel?” are. In fact, we very nearly named it “Now What”, viewing it as the final installment in this pop trilogy.

But that started to feel wrong, because: Why get locked into a “series” every time we happen to lean on the more melodic and concise aspect of what we do?

You know, and the thing is, this isn’t any kind of “return.” This is something new. Though it certainly shares DNA with the aforementioned What/Why releases, it also very much incorporates the rock and dissonance and experimentation present in many of our other forays. Maybe this is simply where we landed. Maybe this is what we are now. Maybe we’ve finally found the combination of ingredients that so perfectly synthesize as our aesthetic that there’s no need to go on from here. Maybe we’ve stopped. Maybe we’re done. Maybe we’ve finally found that sweet spot between the “adventurous” and the “palatable,” and we now intend to rest on our laurels.

What an Admission that would be.

"Chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams..."

December 25th, 2023 - an Instagram post. Stimulator Jones shared half a dozen FIRE tracks from his beat tape archive. We were immediately drawn to the rough hewn boom bap.

"I'd release that", Rob commented.

Hours of material was shared and the result is this: Cool Green Trees (1999-2005). A collection of beats and loops Stimulator Jones created between the ages of 14-20 at home in his basement, bedroom and computer room in Roanoke, Virginia.

You will not believe the profound soulful genius contained within these naive schoolboy melodies.

December 25th, 1998 - 25 years ago to the day and his much-coveted Yamaha SU10 sampler was finally bestowed upon young Stimmy AKA Sam Lunsford: "I immediately hooked up a CD Walkman to the input jack and looped the beginning two bars of Grover Washington Jr.'s "Mercy Mercy Me". I don't know what exactly was so thrilling about hearing two measures of music repeating over and over but it was so infectious and hypnotizing and enthralling to me. I'll never forget that ecstatic rush of making my first loop - an uncontrollable, gleeful smile plastered all over my face." When you hear the pocket breakbeat symphonies featured here on Cool Green Trees, you'll feel the same sense of frisson.

In the wake of his Stones Throw breakthrough - Exotic Worlds & Master Treasures - Stimulator Jones was pegged by many as a 90s throwback artist. However, he literally IS a 90s artist. He's been recording music most of his life and he's now 40. He created the bulk of Cool Green Trees as a teenager. Everything before 2004 was recorded when Sam was still in school. He was in 8th grade when he made the 1999 tracks - he didn't even have his learner's permit. This album is a snapshot of a young man in a simpler time. Things were still mysterious back then and he was flying blind, relying on his ears and having to figure things out for himself: "I had no road map for becoming a beatmaker. I have been collecting music since I was a kid, I am a lifelong digger and seeker of cool and interesting sounds. I was there in the golden age of Hip Hop, and while I may have been a suburban white kid in Roanoke, Virginia, I was tuned in and I bought so many classic albums when they came out. I was attracted to Hip Hop because of the musical and poetic quality. I was hypnotized by the rhythms, partially because I was a drummer. I didn't brag about collecting my breakbeat records or making beats - it was something I did in isolation. It wasn't something I generally wanted to bring attention to and it didn't really score me any cool points. I certainly wasn't flexing on social media about it."

Hell, he can do that now!

Opener "Pharoah Jones" was inspired by Yesterday's New Quintet and Madlib's ability to capture that classic 70s sound whilst playing all the instruments. Sam created this one stoned afternoon by laying down a 2 bar loop and a shaker loop on his Yamaha SU700 sampler. He hung a microphone from the ceiling and played his Yamaha Stage Custom drum kit over the top before adding ender Rhodes and playing his dad's Selmer tenor sax through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. Yes! Up next, "Ghost Gospel" utilises a dope loop from a gospel record and adds some soul-funk drums overtop, whilst working that filter knob. Says Sam: "The loop reminded me of something Ghostface would rap over. The sample was in 3/4 waltz time but I flipped it for a 4/4 groove, a technique I picked up from RZA. "Ill Feeling" uses sped-up pieces from a dusty old funk record and putting them over a classic NOLA drum loop; gain chopping up a slow, bluesy 3/4 time signature and bending it to a 4/4 groove. Classy shit. "Capital Punishment" features drums tapped in live, inspired by MF Doom's Special Herbs series. "Do Not Adjust" consists loops found on a compilation of 70s French music at Happy's Flea Market, a classic Roanoke digging spot.

The sublime, evocative title track, "Cool Green Trees" was created when Sam was still living at home. He dumped samples off his SU10 into the family desktop and arranged them in a demo version of Pro Tools: "This track was sort of my ode to the DJ Shadow style of sample based production. Super spacey, slow, and moody. The heavily filtered drums were inspired by Alec Empire's 'Low on Ice' album. I later added some scratches and sounds from a Spider Man storybook record." "Chill Scratch" snags the final bit of a bossanova record and pairs it with a drum loop before adding experimental scratching run through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. "Poisonous Fumes" was made using a sampler, mixer and a turntable; a kind of mixtape beat collage with added scratches and sounds from various records. Using dialogue from superhero records was a nod to Madlib. "Welcome Aboard The Starship" is dark, downtempo trip-hop with a spooky bent. Sam paired a slow, hard drum loop with a guitar sample grabbed off a psychedelic rock record. To finish, he added various backwards sounds and weird atmospheric effects and a little scratching. Swoon.

Side B opens with "Keep On Runnin", made on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler. Having always loved the sound of the Lo-Fi filter on those machines, reminiscent of the Emu SP1200, Sam always imagined Del or another of the Hieroglyphics crew rapping over this beat. You can certainly hear why. "Sounds Impossible" sees Sam experimenting with layering multiple kick samples at different volumes to create patterns similar to those heard by Showbiz and Lord Finesse during their God-level 1995 period. "Painted Faces" was made by chopping up a REDACTED record which he had gotten from Happy's Flea Market and paired it with a REDACTED drum loop. By the time Sam recorded "The Knew Style", he had acquired a shitty old 1960s portable turntable off eBay. It didn't function properly when he bought it but his brother opened it up, cleaned it out and got it working: "I remember he told me that there was a bunch of sand inside of it when he opened it up, as if its previous owner had taken it to the beach. I would take that turntable on my Happy's Flea Market digs so I could preview records...that's how I found this loop."

"Chicken Wing Blues Sauce" loops up a classic blues joint and pairs it with some REDACTED drums. A bit of filtering and arranging et voilà! "Kool Breeze", from 1999, is one of Sam's oldest surviving beats, as is "Sexx Bullets". The Roots sampled the same record, leaving Sam frustrated yet vindicated. "Soul Child" was an early SU10 creation, looping a dusty old Soul Children 45 and pairing it with 70s rock drum loops to great effect. "Take Off Runnin" was another loop found digging with a portable turntable. Paired with some boom bap drums it makes for a hypnotic head-nod groove. "Centurian" was intended to be a little beat interlude a la Pete Rock. The sample is from a sun-dappled soft-psych record and it's paired with a Robin Trower drum loop that just happens to fit perfectly. Sometimes you slap things together kind of haphazardly and magic happens. "Bozack" was the first beat Sam made using Pro Tools, his first foray into using chopped sounds instead of loops, an exciting new world. "Church" is beat interlude using a Phil Upchurch loop with the "Long Red" drums - a favourite break of Dilla et al. Sam was really on a tear in late 2004, probably because he was unemployed and phoneless and able to just make beats all day. He made "Splash One" on a borrowed Yamaha SU700 and again was experimenting with tapping the drums in live with his fingers, instead of using a loop or sequenced pattern. Channeling 9th Wonder, Sam used a water splash sound effect from a Batman record as a percussive element, hence the title (also a 13th Floor Elevators reference). The main loop is a backwards portion of one of his favourite Roy Ayers songs.

"Hank" is another fun little beat interlude thing, created on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler with the fantastic Lo-Fi effect that resembled the Emu SP1200 at a fraction of the price. "73 goatee", from 99, is another of his oldest surviving beats, created in his bedroom with his Yamaha SU10 and his brother's Vestax MR-300 4-track recorder: "This one will always feel special. I can remember having a feeling all the way back then on the night that I created it that this was a solid beat with a catchy loop. There was something in the Fender Rhodes melody that resonated with me emotionally, and I had never heard a producer sample that portion before. I felt like I had found my own unique sound, my own unique loop. It came from an Ahmad Jamal '73. I actually even recorded myself rapping and scratching over this beat way back then, I still have that version in all its imperfect sloppy glory."

Sam explains just how much these tracks mean to him: "They all have immense historical and sentimental value and I'm proud of them. These beats come from an innocent, simple time when I was just figuring out how to craft these sounds. They're something very personal to me. They are the initial part of a journey that I really was taking *alone*. There was no YouTube. I couldn't Google shit. I didn't even know any other beatmakers, producers or DJs in my town that could teach me anything. It was always just me, alone, in a room with some equipment - chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams. What I was doing wasn't cool. Most of my peers thought I was a weirdo and couldn't care less. Creating these sounds was an anti-social endeavour. In a sense, I felt like it was me against the world, and all I had to instruct and assist me were the recordings produced by my heroes - RZA, DJ Premier, Erick Sermon, Beatminerz, Showbiz, Diamond D, Beatnuts, Prince Paul, The Bomb Squad, Pete Rock, Q-Tip, E-Swift, Mista Lawnge, DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist, Peanut Butter Wolf, El-P and so many more...I dedicate this collection to them, and to my older brother Joe who has always been a musical and technical guiding light for me.

This was a time before every kid was a self-described producer and beatmaker, before everyone had a DAW, before Kanye and "chipmunk soul", before Red Bull beat battles, before there was any social media beyond chat rooms and AOL Instant Messenger, before Soundcloud, before SP-404 mania, before lo-fi beats to study to, before Splice, before targeted ads for MIDI chord packs, etc. In 99 when I told people that I had a sampler and made beats I was mostly met with bewildered confusion and indifference. Kids and adults alike would wonder why I got this weird machine for Christmas instead of something worthwhile like a Playstation or a mountain bike or even a guitar for that matter because at least that could be used to make "real music". Back then, sampling was still not widely respected as an art form - it was seen as lazy, talentless and unoriginal at best and outright criminal theft at worst. I had gotten respect for playing drums and guitar and things of that nature but this was a step in the wrong direction in the eyes of many."

The cover photo is a picture of Sam standing on his back porch in the latter part of 1998, just before he got his first sampler. He was 13 years old, in 8th grade. His dad took the picture with his 35mm film camera: "I actually wanted to be pointing my dad's .22 pistol at the camera lens but he wouldn't let me. He gave me an old walking cane to use instead. The Tommy Hilfiger puffer jacket came from the lost and found at William Fleming High School where my mom worked as a secretary. I was thrilled when she brought it home because we never spent money on expensive name brand clothing like that - we were for the most part strictly a sale rack, bargain bin, thrift store, yard sale, flea market kind of family when it came to clothes. My watch is some cheap off-brand fake gold department store watch." Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry.

Secret Soul Society aka Cal Gibson backs up his already assured reputation for being something of an edit maestro here. 'Julians Cabbages' kicks off with dubby downtempo drums and some lovely twinkling arps. 'Make It All True' then refracts a shimmering vocal and some nice musical percussion around a lazy groove and 'Finally Got My Life Together' has a dreamy feeling and widescreen synth architecture. 'Next To You' shuts down with more textured bass and another weird yet wonderful vocal sample.

Listening to CD3, I'm reminded of how the Vincent Over The Sink record '22 Coloured Bull Terriers' made me feel all those years ago. There's a free ranging quality to it.

It feels calmly capable of doing whatever it wants. It feels mysterious and self-generating, almost aloof to the humans who made it. I adored that record; it cascaded into so many epiphanies.

I don't want to implicate Cooper and David's music in any fleeting desire towards currency, but listening to this CD3 record over the last few weeks has felt weirdly, thematically correct. There's an echo-ey kind of referentiality to it. Not to particular styles of music, but to the recently elapsed histories those styles of music evoke. It's something that Th Blisks kind of gestures towards, but which this project seems to own entirely.

It's a kind of melted reconfiguration of popular (occasionally popular-on-the-fringes) styles. These familiar sounds are reconfigured and muddied. Hindsight frames the sources in an almost primordial light, to the extent that they feel like folk art.

Glyphted and Franzbranntwein sound like pop songs stripped to their bones and distorted, as if the styles they vaguely recall are as old as time. It's a stunningly weird effect. Songs like The Duchess and Farmhand exacerbate this impression. The record comes to feel yearningly ahistorical. But in a way that feels pertinent?

It might just be where my head is at, but the implacable nature of the record feels important to me, somehow. It's something far, far north of post-modern but... ancient too. - Shaun Prescott

Welcome to "Private Dancer": Acclaimed producer Johannes Albert returns with his third club album after six years - his first on Permanent Vacation - and it's a statement. The album stars a sound that was always in him - called House - something that moves the body and warms the soul.
Collaboration is key. London's own Helen Salvin graces "Wide-Eyed" with her magnificent voice where midtempo meets a subtle boogie. Things heat up when Biesmans jumps in for the infectious, uptempo "Get My Gee". And when longtime friend Iron Curtis lends a hand, the title track "Private Dancer" melts into subliminal grooves. Expect classic material, like the Arp-tinged "L’Chaim," alongside unexpected weirdness - see "Patterns Everywhere". The life affirming "My Kind" leaves you with nothing but positive vibes while the Pepe Bradock styled sampling of "Follow The Strings" goes sincere all the way.
With 15 years of releases and 25 years behind the DJ booth Johannes Albert masters the balance: House Music that's always classy yet still offers a modern twist. "Private Dancer' showcases 11 tracks that are well crafted - refined yet understated. Maybe all we need now is a basement, a red light, and - you know it - more of that feeling.

Howdy punkè rocke fans, welcome to FORCED COMMUNAL EXISTENCE - the wonderful and frightening world of ALIEN NOSEJOB’s EP’s & singles. Anti Fade and Agitated Records are teaming together to bring you a paint stripping, mind altering, rare collection of EP and compilation tracks recorded in various Australian bedrooms and garages between 2017 and 2022. The sound of goofy obnoxiousness will soon be permeating your bedroom airwaves and perforating your eardrums. Kicking off this long player is an EP that was recorded by Billy from Anti Fade in his childhood bedroom in July 2017. The songs came to fruition while AUSMUTEANTS were on tour in Japan 2016.

There was a lot of ‘WALLABY BEAT’ / ‘MURDER PUNK’ being played in the background while seeing the sites of Mount Fuji and ‘Bar Fuck Yeah’. In between shows Jake was organising the release of DANNY GRAHAM and PLASTIC AND THE EP’S records on the label he co-ran XEROX MUSIC. Both artists played parts in the sound and ethos of the PANEL BEAT EP. The goal was to make the songs sound unapologetically Australian without pretending to be something they’re not. There’s no fake accents or songs about VB and mullets. Instead, there’s songs about every day struggles, like dealing with fickle fashion followers, having too many fucking records, playing PlayStation, resentment and manipulation.

500 copies were pressed and self released, with a photo slipped inside each copy at random. Next is THE DEATH OF THE VINYL BOOM which was self recorded in a shed in November 2017. This is the only Alien Nosejob release (besides this comp, smartarse) to feature a cover - Flyblown by Adelaidean arty weirdo band JACKSON ZUMDISH. The idea behind this EP was to incorporate the simplicity and scrappiness of the late 70’s DIY Australian sound, but give them the complicated structures of prog songs. Scum stats - 500 copies, self released. Several copies were smeared with Jake’s blood and had smashed pieces of vinyl glued to the front cover.

Now we have a cover of the DEAD KENNEDYS. The conspiracy theorist wet dream Government Flu. Recorded September 2020 during lockdown in one-man-band with a tape recorder fashion for a 20 minute unedited ‘live set’ video where all instruments were played one by one, sung and mixed in the space of a couple of hours. The HC45 7” was recorded at the same time as a disco 12” maxi, which I hear were originally meant to come out on the same day. Shit happens I guess? This EP came out in Feb 2020 and sounds somewhere between early GANG GREEN, DIE KREUZEN and the BEASTIE BOYS old bullshit. Self recorded on a 4 track with a broken pinch roller. Lyrically this thing is cynical and choc-a-bloc full of satire and hate. A year later a sequel was recorded the same way, on the same machine.

No fucking disco this time though. Cold Bare Facts is the most recent recording on this comp. Self recorded in Jake‘s bedroom 2022 It has the same mid paced tempo as DYS or SSD when they’re at their slowest (pre-Boston Curse, of course!). Both songs take a stinky shit on the Australian state police. 300 copies. Finishing the record is a cover by THE AINTS. Originally written by ED KUEPPER for THE SAINTS Eternally Yours album, but it sounded too similar to Lost and Found. Originally released on ‘ALTA’ cassette compilation during the lockdown. FORCED COMMUNAL EXISTENCE binds this mouthful of releases into one neat package from June 6th, 2025. Catch the ALIEN NOSEJOB band on tour in Europe & UK from June 13 - July 2nd, 2025.

Howdy punkè rocke fans, welcome to FORCED COMMUNAL EXISTENCE - the wonderful and frightening world of ALIEN NOSEJOB’s EP’s & singles. Anti Fade and Agitated Records are teaming together to bring you a paint stripping, mind altering, rare collection of EP and compilation tracks recorded in various Australian bedrooms and garages between 2017 and 2022. The sound of goofy obnoxiousness will soon be permeating your bedroom airwaves and perforating your eardrums. Kicking off this long player is an EP that was recorded by Billy from Anti Fade in his childhood bedroom in July 2017. The songs came to fruition while AUSMUTEANTS were on tour in Japan 2016.

There was a lot of ‘WALLABY BEAT’ / ‘MURDER PUNK’ being played in the background while seeing the sites of Mount Fuji and ‘Bar Fuck Yeah’. In between shows Jake was organising the release of DANNY GRAHAM and PLASTIC AND THE EP’S records on the label he co-ran XEROX MUSIC. Both artists played parts in the sound and ethos of the PANEL BEAT EP. The goal was to make the songs sound unapologetically Australian without pretending to be something they’re not. There’s no fake accents or songs about VB and mullets. Instead, there’s songs about every day struggles, like dealing with fickle fashion followers, having too many fucking records, playing PlayStation, resentment and manipulation.

500 copies were pressed and self released, with a photo slipped inside each copy at random. Next is THE DEATH OF THE VINYL BOOM which was self recorded in a shed in November 2017. This is the only Alien Nosejob release (besides this comp, smartarse) to feature a cover - Flyblown by Adelaidean arty weirdo band JACKSON ZUMDISH. The idea behind this EP was to incorporate the simplicity and scrappiness of the late 70’s DIY Australian sound, but give them the complicated structures of prog songs. Scum stats - 500 copies, self released. Several copies were smeared with Jake’s blood and had smashed pieces of vinyl glued to the front cover.

Now we have a cover of the DEAD KENNEDYS. The conspiracy theorist wet dream Government Flu. Recorded September 2020 during lockdown in one-man-band with a tape recorder fashion for a 20 minute unedited ‘live set’ video where all instruments were played one by one, sung and mixed in the space of a couple of hours. The HC45 7” was recorded at the same time as a disco 12” maxi, which I hear were originally meant to come out on the same day. Shit happens I guess? This EP came out in Feb 2020 and sounds somewhere between early GANG GREEN, DIE KREUZEN and the BEASTIE BOYS old bullshit. Self recorded on a 4 track with a broken pinch roller. Lyrically this thing is cynical and choc-a-bloc full of satire and hate. A year later a sequel was recorded the same way, on the same machine.

No fucking disco this time though. Cold Bare Facts is the most recent recording on this comp. Self recorded in Jake‘s bedroom 2022 It has the same mid paced tempo as DYS or SSD when they’re at their slowest (pre-Boston Curse, of course!). Both songs take a stinky shit on the Australian state police. 300 copies. Finishing the record is a cover by THE AINTS. Originally written by ED KUEPPER for THE SAINTS Eternally Yours album, but it sounded too similar to Lost and Found. Originally released on ‘ALTA’ cassette compilation during the lockdown. FORCED COMMUNAL EXISTENCE binds this mouthful of releases into one neat package from June 6th, 2025. Catch the ALIEN NOSEJOB band on tour in Europe & UK from June 13 - July 2nd, 2025.

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.

Perth’s finest, Psychedelic Porn Crumpets, continue their onslaught on 2025 with the release of a brand new single & announcing details of their 7th record due in May 2025. ‘Carpe Diem, Moonman’ promises to be another weird & wonderful journey through the mind of Jack McEwan, the talisman of the Perth 5-piece. It’s announced alongside brand-new single ‘Weird World Awoke’, another ferocious blast of inimitable rock & roll, with a lyrical rollercoaster to keep pace with the relentless tempo & guitar slaloms.
McEwan himself had this to say about the new record: “Carpe Diem, Moonman” is an entanglement of chaos, the bi-product of excessive touring, an explosion of doubt, wonder, excitement, dog bites, Greek philosophy, death, weekend benders and a partridge in a pear tree, a mongrel of sorts. There’s so many genres, flavours, cream crackers and fairground amusements packed into CDM. It blasts out the gates, takes you for a spin then leads you off into somewhere beautiful, fun and enthralling. I want people to come back and find something new with each listen.”

The cassette format SPCS1680 features "With Trampled by Turtles" on the A Side and last years 'White Roses, My God' SP1655 on the B Side! No one can help you build something beautiful quite like those who know you best. Alan Sparhawk knows this well. In his years in Low, he built decades of stirring music with his wife and lifelong creative partner Mimi Parker. In recent years, he has performed around Minnesota with his son Cyrus in DERECHO Rhythm Section, a funk band that also frequently features his daughter Hollis on vocals. There's an irreplaceable naturalism that comes with this kind of dynamic. Those who know you understand you. They love you. They want to help you bring your greatest passions to fruition. So it made sense that Sparhawk would turn to fellow Duluth musicians Trampled by Turtles to realize his latest record. As friends and mentees of Low's, taken under Sparhawk and Parker's wing from their earliest days as a bar band, Trampled by Turtles have performed with Sparhawk countless times over the years. The Duluth ties run deep: "There's a certain vibe that has to do with underdog syndrome, coming from a small town," Sparhawk muses. "Some of it is the weird grind and slackness that being at the mercy of Mother Nature puts in you. It humbles you." The two artists hold the kind of ironclad bond. Following Parker's passing in 2022, Trampled by Turtles invited Sparhawk to join them on tour to give him a space to be surrounded by friends. Occasionally, he would join them onstage. The outpouring of love was palpable every time they played together, a surge of warmth. When playing together is that powerful, why stop there? In winter, 2024, Sparhawk and Trampled by Turtles created With Trampled by Turtles, a record exactly as its name implies: Collective. Communal. Fraternal. Empathetic. A vessel for comfort, a reminder of the harmony that can exist when surrounded by those closest to you. Where White Roses, My God, Sparhawk's last album, plunged headfirst into electronica and radical vocal modulation, With Trampled by Turtles leans into the folk and bluegrass stylings of its backing band, Sparhawk's voice now completely unvarnished. With Trampled by Turtles is far more than just Alan Sparhawk and Trampled by Turtles. It's an affirmation of all the people who have been vital in Sparhawk's life and music, and an opportunity to hold each of their gifts into the light. It's producer Nat Harvie, who has been collaborating and performing with him for years. It's Sparhawk's daughter Hollis, who duets with her father on "Not Broken." And it's Mimi Parker, too: "Too High," "Princess Road Surgery," and "Not Broken" were all tracks she and Sparhawk had been working on in the last few years. These songs finally found a setting that stirringly commemorates them, bolstered by a full ensemble to make every note sing. Their presence is a kind of eternal connection to Parker, a way her musical grace will keep flourishing.

Claire Chicha aka Spill Tab is feeling more free than ever before. The LA-based, French-Korean songwriter and producer,has spent the past five years as spill tab honing a sound that is as raw-edged as it is refined, channelling low-slung guitar-strumming confessionals as well as the earworming melodic hooks of anthemic pop to produce a heady and distinctive mix.

Following the 2019 release of her intimate and infectious debut single “Decompose”, Spill Tab has evolved her spill tab project through three EPs: 2020’s synth-pop influenced Oatmilk, 2021’s playful, uptempo Bonnie, featuring Gus Dapperton and Tommy Genesis, and 2023’s co-produced, sonically-intricate Klepto, which gleefully meanders from the Hiatus Kaiyote-influenced jazz freakouts of “CRÈME BRÛLÉE!” to the guitar-chugging thump of “Splinter”. Live, meanwhile, Spill Tab has been tapped for her explosively energetic presence to open the North American leg of popstar Sabrina Carpenter’s tour, as well as touring through Australia with alt-rock trio Wallows.
With “PINK LEMONADE”, opening single from her forthcoming debut album “ANGIE” , spill tab’s freewheeling sound finds its fullest expression, harnessing this onstage experience and recorded experimentation with her bass-weight and pitched-up vocals. Here we find Chicha only ever chasing that “weird thing”, fizzing with an infectious enthusiasm and intricate musicianship. “The best songs come from writing the main idea in a day, as it’s so instinctual,” she says, such as “PINK LEMONADE” recorded “from a clip taken out of a 40-minute jam that we then chopped and spliced”.
Born to her French Algerian composer father and Korean pianist mother, Claire Chicha spent her early childhood in the mixing room of her parents’ LA post-production studio, bringing coffees to artists as they tracked scores for exciting new projects. “I hung out in that studio all the time until I was around 10 years old, absorbing jazz music my dad was into and classical music that my mom loved,” Chicha says. “My mom had a big hand in making me an adventurous kid, always trying new things from piano to harp and violin, forever soaking up new sounds.”

At 12, Chicha’s life was uprooted as she relocated to Thailand to live with her mother’s family following the collapse of her parents’ business after the 2008 recession. What followed was an unstable and formative few years of early teenagedom, navigating new cultures and life changes. In Thailand, Chicha began learning guitar to cover the Paramore and Green Day tracks she had grown to love while also becoming immersed in Thai traditional music. After a year, she moved once more to live with her aunt in Paris and there she was introduced to the classic sound of Serge Gainsbourg and Édith Piaf before ultimately returning to LA following the untimely death of her father.

“I had to become a real people person to fit in everywhere I was moving, and it immersed me into so many different styles of music,” she says. “I went from listening to the nasal singing of Thai traditional music at muay thai fights in Bangkok, to emotive classic French songs. It definitely informed the need to experiment with my sound as I became more interested in making music.”

At high school in LA, Chicha joined one of the country’s foremost show choirs and realised a natural aptitude for stagecraft and performance as she sang medleys in competitions throughout the US. Going on to study Music Business at NYU, Chicha found a love for the alternative soul and singer-songwriting of the likes of Moses Sumney and Bon Iver, as well as developing her own sound while spending summers interning as an A&R at Atlantic Records and being exposed to the gamut of New York’s live music scene.

“I was going to so many shows as an A&R intern and seeing just how much a lot of music sounded alike,” she says. “It made me realise I wanted my music to feel different, to cut through the noise but still make something that felt honest to me.”

Beginning to independently release tracks, Soill Tab gradually built a loyal fanbase with the release of wistful early numbers “Calvaire” and “Cotton Candy” and soon found herself signed to a major label. Yet, as her career progressed through the COVID pandemic the demands of a corporate major began to conflict with her own searching style. “My last two EPs were under contract and it felt like I was always chasing the carrot,” she says, “I felt a certain pressure to put out tracks quickly and find that ‘hit’. It wasn’t the right environment to truly make what I wanted.”

Ultimately parting ways with her label, Chicha began work on a new album, exploring new sounds and ideas with her LA-based community of collaborators like producer David Marinelli, Solomonophonic, Wyatt and Austin and John DeBold, without expectation. “It became this beautiful experience of only following ideas that I really believed in and exploring all the musical avenues I hadn’t before,” she says. “I’ve never been more excited about songs and I’ve never felt like a project is more mine.”

Writing and recording while touring with Sabrina Carpenter and Wallows, Chicha road-tested her new tracks to see what might land best with an audience who had likely never heard her music before. “You have to win people’s hearts as an opener and you can see what resonates and what doesn’t,” she says. “I would watch people fall in love or not and it’s usually always the song you’re having the most fun with that does the best. That’s what I put on the record.”

« Angie », Spill’s Tab debut album is relased on because Music and expected for May 16th release.

Growing up is painful, brutal, and sometimes beautiful _ something Brooklyn-based indie-rock band Bedridden knows all too well. The band's name is even a nod to that ineffable period between childhood and the jagged edges of the real world. "When I was 21, I kind of lost my home," says frontman/guitarist Jack Riley. "I was couch-surfing. I was having a hard time.The next iteration in the band's maturation, then, is their debut, LP Moths Strapped To Eachother's Backs, 10 fuzzed-out (and sometimes gnarly) ruminations on dating, drugs, and survival out April 11 on Julia's War. The title came from a mysterious missive Riley received on astrology app Co-Star. "Last year I was way too reliant on other people _ my partner at the time, my friends," he says. "I was strapped to them in a weird way _ and flying in circles. This album is about that time."The current incarnation of Bedridden encompasses a patchwork of styles, influences, and friends Riley accumulated over the years. A Chicago native who first started making music at age five on a thrift-store guitar emblazoned with Kurt Cobain's name, Riley moved to New Orleans for college where he dabbled in punk before falling in love with shoegaze. There, he launched the first version of Bedridden. Sebastian Duzian (bass) _ a jazz musician and Pasadena native _ linked up with Riley in NOLA along with his bandmate, drummer Nick Pedroza. Pedroza, from Claremont, grew up on rock, metal, and jazz, honing his style after joining the band. Wesley Wolffe _ a guitarist fed on a steady diet of New Wave and `90s alt _ rounded out the crew just a few months back. Bedridden's previous lineup released their first EP, Amateur Heartthrob, in 2023 _ a noise-washed blend of shoegaze, DIY, and indie that Riley says is a "coming-of-age EP _ these formative stories about not having a bed, dating, being kind of a jackass. I was making fun of myself a lot." That release caught the attention of Douglas Dulgarian from Philly Label Julia's War (and TAGABOW), who signed them for Moths."Some of these songs have been around for years," says Riley, adding that they were recorded last February at Studio G Brooklyn; the album was produced by Aron Kobayashi Ritch (Momma). "As opposed to Amateur Heartthrob, we attempted to blend more clean guitars into a driving sound to capture more clarity _ one that also sounds live_ and raw," Riley says. That rawness thrums through the record, which kicks off with the thrashed "Gummy," about an incident when Riley had to gently fend off a co-worker's unwanted advances while both drunk and high on an MDMA gummy. And then there's mournful rager "Etch," which sees Riley daydreaming about beating up a meddler in his personal life _ in the minor key.The annihilating "Chainsaw" revs in next, a lightning-fast Lemonheads-inspired track that recalls Riley moving in with new roommates who were unnaturally obsessed with purchasing a lamp. "For some reason that pissed me off," he laughs; that rage is evident in the album cover, which shows said power tool demolishing a lampshade. Heavy-shredding "Heaven's Leg" showcases the band's affinity for `90s mainstays like Smashing Pumpkins while telling the tale of a gig at a local church. "The lyrics are about a pastor I had met that had lost his leg," Riley says. "The church had signs about not cussing and I had a feeling that neither of us had anything to talk about without potentially offending the other."The band's not afraid to get confrontational, though, on the anger-fueled, drum-heavy "Philadelphia, Get Me Through," which deals with a dead-end relationship and the mistaken assumption that getting drunk in the titular city would be a balm against the pain. And the nasty, brutist, and short hardcore-adjacent "MainStage"? "It's about being disrespected at a show on New Year's and how I lashed out," Riley says. "I then began to take it out on other people, which was a quality that I despise."Things get contemplative and mournful from here on out _ the emo-edged "Snare" is about bringing flowers to a hospital room where you're not welcome, while the Smiths-inspired "Uno" wrestles with self-loathing. "I guess the big finale of that song was my response to dealing with this recurring experience of feeling like I wasn't good enough by getting really into whippets," Riley says. Nu-metal bop "Bonehead," then, recalls an embarrassing dinner that turned into an argument _ the name applies both to that incident and the delicious simplicity of the guitar parts.After all that turmoil and pain, the band caps everything off with their eyes to the future on the jangle-pop "Ring Size." "All my friends are getting married _ do I follow in their footsteps? Or is it all a waste of time?" Riley says of the song. "At the end, through it all, I guess that's what I've been trying to figure out _ how to grow up, how to move on. I'm trying to navigate things as an adult and I'm not very good at it. But this is just the first record. This is just the beginning."And, hey, at least now he has a bed.

Emma-Jean Thackray, the visionary producer, composer, and multi-instrumentalist, releases her highly anticipated second album, “Weirdo” on April 25th via Gilles Peterson’s celebrated label, Brownswood Recordings / Parlophone Records. Known for defying musical boundaries, Thackray's latest work is a deeply personal and utterly original exploration of selfhood, grief, and gratitude.

Drawing on an eclectic mix of influences—grunge, pop, soul, p-funk, and jazz— “Weirdo” is a triumphant celebration of survival and individuality. Written, performed, recorded, mixed, produced and arranged entirely by Thackray in her South London flat, the album stands as a testament to her extraordinary musicianship and fearless self-expression.

With Horror Spectrum, Bunnies plunges headfirst into the shadowy abyss of their art-rock multiverse, unearthing sounds that slither, shimmer, and scream.

Equal parts psychedelic hallucination, krautrock ritual, and noise rock exorcism, this record feels like the sonic aftermath of mad scientists summoning ghosts through an analog synthesizer they excavated from a cursed tomb. It's less an album and more an experiment gone deliciously wrong—a séance that channels the chaotic energies of dimensions better left untouched.

From the extraterrestrial pulsations of “Eyer of Ire” to the technicolor bliss of “That Evil Ghoul,” Horror Spectrum is a seven-track odyssey that detonates the boundaries of Bunnies’ already unhinged catalog. These tracks drag you by the ankles into realms where sound has teeth, time melts into warped rainbows, and the music feels like it’s plotting something sinister. Few bands dare to tread where Bunnies boldly hop, but here they are, mapping out mythical soundscapes with the glee of cartographers lost in their own creation.

This freakish entity of a record is profoundly unsettling and weirdly exhilarating. Horror Spectrum is the sound of a band digging deep into their subconscious and inviting you to get lost in the labyrinth.

Will you find your way out?

And if it sounds this good, why not just stay?

Following the success of last year’s Walks - their first album of completely original compositions - Group Listening release a new 12” vinyl of Tell Everyone Everything via PRAH Recordings.

The title track and artwork are informed by decay, expiration and musical renewal.

“The title comes from a music festival that happened a few years back in Bristol. A really small DIY festival, called Tell Everyone Everything. I really liked the title - so I stole it. The name stuck in my mind as something very open and positive - a radical action. It could be taken as a proposal for progressive change, or a revolutionary art manifesto,” explains Paul Jones.

“The cover art is a photo that I took a long time ago somewhere on a beach in Sir Benfro (Pembrokeshire). The colours are all weird because it was taken on a very expired roll of Kodachrome. It’s sort of eerie. The bucket and spade had just been left there. It was one of the last ever rolls of Kodachrome to be processed, I snuck it into the developers on the last month they were still open, just before the very last processing plant was shut down forever.”

The release features remixes by both Ancient Plastix (who the duo toured with in 2024) and Loggsplitter. The band were delighted with the results: “I loved watching Ancient Plastix every night and was thrilled when he agreed to remix our song. It turned out great too”, says Stephen. Of the Loggsplitter remix Paul says: “It’s like a hot blast of compressed air travelling across the downs from a ravers airhorn. Lush”

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.

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.

The Tubs' second album, Cotton Crown, sees the Celtic Jangle boyband venture into darker, more personal territor y while continuing to hone their highly addictive brand of songcraft. It 's a true level up album which sees the band expand their sonic palette to take in a kaleidoscopic range of influences: everything from soulful pub rock (Chain Reaction) to Husker Du aggression (One More Day) to melancholy sophisto-pop (Narcissist) gets a look in. As Pitchfork noted, The Tubs see jangle as a `vast world of moods and muses' and Cotton Crown sees them continuing to explore this world and creating a distinctly Tub-ular sound in the process. This is in no small part down to Owen `O' Williams' vocal performance- often compared to a young Richard Thomson- and his frank, bleakly funny lyric writing. Cotton Crown sees him delve further into his favourite themes of love-psychosis, unsympathetic mentally ill behaviour, and the humiliations of being a musician in London. This time around, however, there's a palpable sense of risk in his self assessments/confessions. No more so in the track's closing track Strange- an accounting of the clumsy, intrusive, well-meaning social interactions that took place in the period following the suicide of his mother (the folk singer Charlotte Greig.) As Williams says: "I'd tried a few times to write a song about it. The result had always seemed either mawkish, simplifying or like I was hawking my trauma. But then this one came out, and it felt right because it looked at something smaller: the weird, unsatisfying, strangely funny ways everyone, including myself, acted after the dust settled." The album artwork features an image of Williams as an infant being breastfed by Greig in a graveyard- a promotional shot taken around the release of her debut album (the re-issue of which was featured in The Guardian in 2023.) The essential trick Cotton Crown plays is to offset Williams' lyrical bleakness with joyous, hook-laden blasts of pop perfection. This is largely down to the guitar work of George Nicholls, who, across the album, effortlessly slips between the virtuoso jangle of Marr, the driving folk-rock of Pentangle and the chorus-heavy hi-fi grooves of contemporary bands like Tops or The 1975. Add to that the breakneck rhythm section of Taylor Stewart (Drums) and Max Warren (Bass)- who attack each song with power-pop ferocity, recalling Guided by Voices at their drunken-yet-tight best- and you've got yourself a recipe for indie rock greatness. The band's debut `Dead Meat' was a word-of-mouth sensation that saw the band earn accolades from Pitchfork, The Guardian, MOJO, SPIN and more. They even gained some celeb fans: the inimitable Mark Proksch (The Office (US), Better Call Saul, What We Do in the Shadows) starred in the video for their "Round the Bend" single & punk legend Iggy Pop has praised them on his BBC 6Music radio program. Standing in opposition to the UK norm of post punk, and hookless high-minded indie prog, the album was described by Kitty Empire (Observer) as a "shot in the arm for indie rock". The band's hard touring and raucous, beer y live show have seen them stand out at festivals like Greenman, End of The Road, Melbourne Rising and Canela Party. The band (minus Stewart) were previously members of Joanna Gruesome- who won the Welsh Music Prize, toured the UK and US extensively, and were praised in Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, The NY Times, The Guardian and others. Lan Mcardle (Joanna Gruesome, Ex-Void) also provides backing vocals on several tracks. The Tubs are part of the Gob Nation collective- the London-based network of bands, writers and promoters who were recently profiled in The Guardian.

The Tubs' second album, Cotton Crown, sees the Celtic Jangle boyband venture into darker, more personal territor y while continuing to hone their highly addictive brand of songcraft. It 's a true level up album which sees the band expand their sonic palette to take in a kaleidoscopic range of influences: everything from soulful pub rock (Chain Reaction) to Husker Du aggression (One More Day) to melancholy sophisto-pop (Narcissist) gets a look in. As Pitchfork noted, The Tubs see jangle as a `vast world of moods and muses' and Cotton Crown sees them continuing to explore this world and creating a distinctly Tub-ular sound in the process. This is in no small part down to Owen `O' Williams' vocal performance- often compared to a young Richard Thomson- and his frank, bleakly funny lyric writing. Cotton Crown sees him delve further into his favourite themes of love-psychosis, unsympathetic mentally ill behaviour, and the humiliations of being a musician in London. This time around, however, there's a palpable sense of risk in his self assessments/confessions. No more so in the track's closing track Strange- an accounting of the clumsy, intrusive, well-meaning social interactions that took place in the period following the suicide of his mother (the folk singer Charlotte Greig.) As Williams says: "I'd tried a few times to write a song about it. The result had always seemed either mawkish, simplifying or like I was hawking my trauma. But then this one came out, and it felt right because it looked at something smaller: the weird, unsatisfying, strangely funny ways everyone, including myself, acted after the dust settled." The album artwork features an image of Williams as an infant being breastfed by Greig in a graveyard- a promotional shot taken around the release of her debut album (the re-issue of which was featured in The Guardian in 2023.) The essential trick Cotton Crown plays is to offset Williams' lyrical bleakness with joyous, hook-laden blasts of pop perfection. This is largely down to the guitar work of George Nicholls, who, across the album, effortlessly slips between the virtuoso jangle of Marr, the driving folk-rock of Pentangle and the chorus-heavy hi-fi grooves of contemporary bands like Tops or The 1975. Add to that the breakneck rhythm section of Taylor Stewart (Drums) and Max Warren (Bass)- who attack each song with power-pop ferocity, recalling Guided by Voices at their drunken-yet-tight best- and you've got yourself a recipe for indie rock greatness. The band's debut `Dead Meat' was a word-of-mouth sensation that saw the band earn accolades from Pitchfork, The Guardian, MOJO, SPIN and more. They even gained some celeb fans: the inimitable Mark Proksch (The Office (US), Better Call Saul, What We Do in the Shadows) starred in the video for their "Round the Bend" single & punk legend Iggy Pop has praised them on his BBC 6Music radio program. Standing in opposition to the UK norm of post punk, and hookless high-minded indie prog, the album was described by Kitty Empire (Observer) as a "shot in the arm for indie rock". The band's hard touring and raucous, beer y live show have seen them stand out at festivals like Greenman, End of The Road, Melbourne Rising and Canela Party. The band (minus Stewart) were previously members of Joanna Gruesome- who won the Welsh Music Prize, toured the UK and US extensively, and were praised in Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, The NY Times, The Guardian and others. Lan Mcardle (Joanna Gruesome, Ex-Void) also provides backing vocals on several tracks. The Tubs are part of the Gob Nation collective- the London-based network of bands, writers and promoters who were recently profiled in The Guardian.

The Tubs' second album, Cotton Crown, sees the Celtic Jangle boyband venture into darker, more personal territor y while continuing to hone their highly addictive brand of songcraft. It 's a true level up album which sees the band expand their sonic palette to take in a kaleidoscopic range of influences: everything from soulful pub rock (Chain Reaction) to Husker Du aggression (One More Day) to melancholy sophisto-pop (Narcissist) gets a look in. As Pitchfork noted, The Tubs see jangle as a `vast world of moods and muses' and Cotton Crown sees them continuing to explore this world and creating a distinctly Tub-ular sound in the process. This is in no small part down to Owen `O' Williams' vocal performance- often compared to a young Richard Thomson- and his frank, bleakly funny lyric writing. Cotton Crown sees him delve further into his favourite themes of love-psychosis, unsympathetic mentally ill behaviour, and the humiliations of being a musician in London. This time around, however, there's a palpable sense of risk in his self assessments/confessions. No more so in the track's closing track Strange- an accounting of the clumsy, intrusive, well-meaning social interactions that took place in the period following the suicide of his mother (the folk singer Charlotte Greig.) As Williams says: "I'd tried a few times to write a song about it. The result had always seemed either mawkish, simplifying or like I was hawking my trauma. But then this one came out, and it felt right because it looked at something smaller: the weird, unsatisfying, strangely funny ways everyone, including myself, acted after the dust settled." The album artwork features an image of Williams as an infant being breastfed by Greig in a graveyard- a promotional shot taken around the release of her debut album (the re-issue of which was featured in The Guardian in 2023.) The essential trick Cotton Crown plays is to offset Williams' lyrical bleakness with joyous, hook-laden blasts of pop perfection. This is largely down to the guitar work of George Nicholls, who, across the album, effortlessly slips between the virtuoso jangle of Marr, the driving folk-rock of Pentangle and the chorus-heavy hi-fi grooves of contemporary bands like Tops or The 1975. Add to that the breakneck rhythm section of Taylor Stewart (Drums) and Max Warren (Bass)- who attack each song with power-pop ferocity, recalling Guided by Voices at their drunken-yet-tight best- and you've got yourself a recipe for indie rock greatness. The band's debut `Dead Meat' was a word-of-mouth sensation that saw the band earn accolades from Pitchfork, The Guardian, MOJO, SPIN and more. They even gained some celeb fans: the inimitable Mark Proksch (The Office (US), Better Call Saul, What We Do in the Shadows) starred in the video for their "Round the Bend" single & punk legend Iggy Pop has praised them on his BBC 6Music radio program. Standing in opposition to the UK norm of post punk, and hookless high-minded indie prog, the album was described by Kitty Empire (Observer) as a "shot in the arm for indie rock". The band's hard touring and raucous, beer y live show have seen them stand out at festivals like Greenman, End of The Road, Melbourne Rising and Canela Party. The band (minus Stewart) were previously members of Joanna Gruesome- who won the Welsh Music Prize, toured the UK and US extensively, and were praised in Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, The NY Times, The Guardian and others. Lan Mcardle (Joanna Gruesome, Ex-Void) also provides backing vocals on several tracks. The Tubs are part of the Gob Nation collective- the London-based network of bands, writers and promoters who were recently profiled in The Guardian.

Being Dead knows how to make an entrance - within the first several seconds of EELS, the duo's new record, the bright, hard-strummed guitar line on "Godzilla Rises" conjures cinematic immediacy, a creature emerging from the depths of the ocean in campy, freaky stop motion, fittingly so. Being Dead's records are mosaics, technicolor incantations, each song its own self-contained little universe. And while the dreamlike EELS probes further into the depths of the duo Being Dead's psyche, it is, most importantly, in the year of our lord 2024, a 16-track record that is genuinely unpredictable from one track to the next: a joyous and unexpected trip helmed by two true-blue freak bitch besties holed up in a lil' house in the heart of Austin, Texas. They decamped to Los Angeles for two weeks to record with GRAMMY-winning producer John Congleton, writing songs for the record until days before they left. The radical shift in process was welcome - a good balance and a challenge, Congleton helping them find new ways to work and helping peel back the layers on the core of their songwriting. Being Dead has grown from a duo to a trio live, including bassist Ricky Motto (who is immortalized finally on record here, particularly in the giggles on "Rock n' Roll Hurts") The resulting EELS is a darker record, tapped more into the devilishness within, but it's also a more raucous, rougher ride sonically. There's heartbreak, excitement, enchantment, dancing - we move through it all at a high-octane pace. Falcon Bitch and Smoofy never want to do the same thing twice on any song, and they don't. From the pummeling garage rock distortion of "Firefighters" to "Dragons II," which appears in its demo form taped on a hand recorder, it's unexpected but intuitive, and, most importantly, singularly Being Dead. Like its animal namesake suggests, the songs on EELS are malleable, the record like slithering through murky waters or strange half dreams, mysterious and beautiful in how it moves, reflective in a wavering sheen. Dipping into each song feels like uncovering a new cavern, plunging into depths unknown but fully open to what will be revealed. On the album artwork, an illustration by the artist Julia Soboleva, there are some weird disparate spectral creatures, a stark glimmer against a cloudy darkness. It's a fitting encapsulation of Being Dead, exuding a welcoming, playful energy even if something foreboding lurks just beyond the pale - more out of frame that's left to uncover, no path unexplored, strange and beautiful in the light.

Purple Tree Fog Vinyl. Being Dead knows how to make an entrance - within the first several seconds of EELS, the duo's new record, the bright, hard-strummed guitar line on "Godzilla Rises" conjures cinematic immediacy, a creature emerging from the depths of the ocean in campy, freaky stop motion, fittingly so. Being Dead's records are mosaics, technicolor incantations, each song its own self-contained little universe. And while the dreamlike EELS probes further into the depths of the duo Being Dead's psyche, it is, most importantly, in the year of our lord 2024, a 16-track record that is genuinely unpredictable from one track to the next: a joyous and unexpected trip helmed by two true-blue freak bitch besties holed up in a lil' house in the heart of Austin, Texas. They decamped to Los Angeles for two weeks to record with GRAMMY-winning producer John Congleton, writing songs for the record until days before they left. The radical shift in process was welcome - a good balance and a challenge, Congleton helping them find new ways to work and helping peel back the layers on the core of their songwriting. Being Dead has grown from a duo to a trio live, including bassist Ricky Motto (who is immortalized finally on record here, particularly in the giggles on "Rock n' Roll Hurts") The resulting EELS is a darker record, tapped more into the devilishness within, but it's also a more raucous, rougher ride sonically. There's heartbreak, excitement, enchantment, dancing - we move through it all at a high-octane pace. Falcon Bitch and Smoofy never want to do the same thing twice on any song, and they don't. From the pummeling garage rock distortion of "Firefighters" to "Dragons II," which appears in its demo form taped on a hand recorder, it's unexpected but intuitive, and, most importantly, singularly Being Dead. Like its animal namesake suggests, the songs on EELS are malleable, the record like slithering through murky waters or strange half dreams, mysterious and beautiful in how it moves, reflective in a wavering sheen. Dipping into each song feels like uncovering a new cavern, plunging into depths unknown but fully open to what will be revealed. On the album artwork, an illustration by the artist Julia Soboleva, there are some weird disparate spectral creatures, a stark glimmer against a cloudy darkness. It's a fitting encapsulation of Being Dead, exuding a welcoming, playful energy even if something foreboding lurks just beyond the pale - more out of frame that's left to uncover, no path unexplored, strange and beautiful in the light.