Search:something weird

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.

New Theo Parrish? Yes please. The Sound Signature boss remains in a class of one and continually finds new ground to explore in the studio, often taking a freeform jazz mindset to roughed-up house and techno that blends the mechanical with the soulful in otherworldly, hypotonic fashion. 'Orange Barrel Action (Yellow Flashing Light mix)' is very much in that mould with lumpy drums detuned and off-grid keys and hissing hi-hats all coalescing into something seductive and subversive. 'Pianamonn' is a deep house foundation topped with weird and wonky keys in inimitable Parrish style.

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.

Loyle Carner will release his highly anticipated sophomore record, 'Not Waving, But Drowning' on 19 April via AMF Records.

'Not Waving, But Drowning' follows Loyle's BRIT (Best Male, Best Newcomer) and Mercury Prize nominated, top 20 debut 'Yesterday's Gone'. The bedrock of honest and raw sentimentality that you heard on 'Yesterday's Gone' left an inextinguishable mark on music in general and UK Hip Hop in particular, standing out as an ageless, bulletproof debut.

'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's new album, gives yet more evidence - as if it were needed - of his razor-sharp flow and his unique storytelling ability. Yes, he can rap, but he allies that with the sensitivity of a poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, 'a woman from the skies', and he's moving out.

It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator.

Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. 'Ottolenghi' the first single from the album was featured on the BBC Radio 1 B-list, BBC 6 Music A-list and has already been streamed over 5 million times.

Loyle refers to real life for everything, the title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving, But Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend Rebel Kleff after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead.

Loyle also has his own personal black consciousness movement. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). With no real emotional ties to his biological father, but a deep connection with a deceased step-father, where does a young child turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain on 'Looking Back'.

An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Kwes, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place.
Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or a society that lets so many down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. Loyle's 2019 Spring tour - which includes London's Roundhouse - sold out within 20 minutes of being on sale.

Not Waving, But Drowning



A rapper that raps about family is hard to find. The boys in the 'hood' tend not to be that interested in how much a 'brother' loves his mother, or how much he misses his dad, or even how much he misses his best friend. The boys in the 'hood' tend to be obsessed with the size of their cars, girls, bank accounts, and other personal 'possessions'. Loyle Carner's Mercury and BRIT Prize nominated debut 'Yesterday's Gone' (Released 2017), made it clear that he wasn't that kind of rapper. In fact, every time I talk to him about his work we talk about the world, and we tended to confuse ourselves by calling his work rap, poems, or songs, sometimes in the same sentence. They are in truth all of these things.



Here's some poetry.



Honestly I need them.

I hate them but I grieve them

I think I've finally found the reason

Trust

Like the fire needs the air.

I won't burn unless you're there.





'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's forthcoming new album, gives us yet more evidence, (if it were needed), that he still has what rappers call, flow, but he hasn't lost any of his story telling qualities. Yes, the boy can rap, but a rapper with the sensitivity of a true poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, (a woman from the skies), and he's moving out. He really loves the woman from the skies, but he still loves his mum, and so he reassures her that there is no competition, and tells her that 'She's not behind me or behind you, but beside we and beside two', his words. Or to put it another way, moving out without moving out. My words.



It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator. He says finding his own voice was something he always found easy. Although young, (in terms of a musical career), he has confidence in his own words and his own voice, and has never been tempted to sound like he's been hanging out in the USA, or rolling in 'Grime' on the mean streets of East London. And so when it comes to the creative process he doesn't simply find a beat to jump on and ride. Beats are important, but they are tenderly layered with samples, keyboards, or live drums, all imaginatively assembled for the laying on of words. Some tracks start with the idea, some with poetry, and some with a verse from a singer or some other melodic inspiration, but there is no formula.



Here's some poetry.



Don't hold any memories of us

Rather hold you everyday until the memories are dust

Yo we only caught the train

Cos you know I hate the bus





A prolific reader, who has dyslexia is hard to find. Add ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) to that and life should become even more difficult. To deal with your difficulties you devise coping strategies, which can differ from person to person. Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. Loyle describes himself as 'weird' because he is happy to read a cookbook as if he was reading a novel or a book of poetry. He has opened a cookery school for young adults not just because he loves food and wants to make more of it, but because it is one of the few things that can focus the ADHD mind. And when it comes to his other love, football, his approach is the same. Focus. He wanted to be a striker he says, up front scoring goals, but found his best position was in midfield because he was able to focus, check options, and see passes ahead of time, providing passes for other players just when they needed them. He says, 'You don't grow out of ADHD, you grow into it.' Loyle is also working with Levi's® on their music project where he is mentoring young musicians over a six month period, culminating at Liverpool Sound City festival.



More poetry.



When the going is tough

I wait till it falls on deaf ears

Hearsay

Without the boundaries of love



He also said, 'Ask most people and they will say that they love their mothers, but most are not going to rap about her'. On his first album Loyle's mum Jean wrote about the 'scribble of a boy' that growing up would take things apart to see how they worked. On this album she speaks with pride about a man who has found his place in the world.



Yes, poetry.



I'm still looking for the answers

Trying to find the right questions

Still waiting for my fathers

But can't break them in to sections



This poetry is serious. Loyle has his own personal black consciousness movement. He told me that he always felt safe at home, and being the darkest one in the family never meant a thing, but then when he had to face the outside world he felt hostility. It shook him up. Now he had to start asking questions, but what were the questions. This is serious. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the verse above taken from the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). So to whom would a young black (or mixed race) kid turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain when he says, 'My great grandfather could of owned my other one.' We are a people descended from enslaved people on one hand, and enslavers on the other, something we are still struggling to come to terms with, and this can be apparent in one family. A big book could have told you that, but here we get it in one line on the track, Looking Back.





Loyle refers to real life for everything. The album is peppered with captured moments that he records on his phone. These moments can range from conversations with taxi drivers, to capturing the moment when England scores a goal in the world cup. The title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving but Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead. Yes people, this is real.



An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit, this is an album for those who have, (I'm sorry, I'm going to say it), emotional intelligence. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place. Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or the society that has let him down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. His first album worked, and this second album is a continuation of that work. Not creating a form, but being formless, as someone like Bruce Lee once said.

And here's some poetry from mum.



We talked long in to the darkest hours

Until we saw the burnished sky

And our eyes stung

As our words blurred and became thoughts

As we were silenced by the dawn

We clung to each other like sailors in a storm

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

"Four years in the making, Nikolaienko’s retrogarde take on mid-20th century tape music is a loping, whirling fuzzy felt oscillator odyssey. If Louis and Bebe Barron had been asked to create electronic tonalities for a Czech animation based on EM Forster’s The Machine Stops, the results may have turned out like this. Only, for all its nods to Parmegiani and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, one can’t quite see this album coming out in 1956 – or even 1976. Something about the slightly off kilter rhythms, the loose feel and wheezing sound effects make this very much a post-Dilla take on Raymond Scott and his successors." - The Wire

"...The album, pitched as “a tribute to early-electronics’ golden era,” takes on a fragmented aesthetic of bleeps, thunks and jolts that secrete the concentrated focus of a fantastical laboratory...” Tiny Mix Tapes

"...The Sounds Of Pseudoscience is a perfect cocktail of space ambient with ice, delicate percussions, under-water rhythms and echoes of Soviet 60s..." Krossfingers

Limited to 50 copies cassettes in Riso printed J-cards

"Four years in the making, Nikolaienko’s retrogarde take on mid-20th century tape music is a loping, whirling fuzzy felt oscillator odyssey. If Louis and Bebe Barron had been asked to create electronic tonalities for a Czech animation based on EM Forster’s The Machine Stops, the results may have turned out like this. Only, for all its nods to Parmegiani and the BBC Radiophonic Workshop, one can’t quite see this album coming out in 1956 – or even 1976. Something about the slightly off kilter rhythms, the loose feel and wheezing sound effects make this very much a post-Dilla take on Raymond Scott and his successors." - The Wire

"...The album, pitched as “a tribute to early-electronics’ golden era,” takes on a fragmented aesthetic of bleeps, thunks and jolts that secrete the concentrated focus of a fantastical laboratory...” Tiny Mix Tapes

"...The Sounds Of Pseudoscience is a perfect cocktail of space ambient with ice, delicate percussions, under-water rhythms and echoes of Soviet 60s..." Krossfingers

The prolific, virtuosic original Bjarki Sigurðarson returns to the concept album format, with ‘A Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle’. It’s the first LP to be released on Differance.

‘A Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle’ explores the psychological landscape of contemporary social issues, offering a sideways rumination on lifestyle dilemmas and wellness obsessions, presenting itself as a response to the modern condition. It combines storytelling with innovative sound textures – encouraging listeners to pause and contemplate the absurdities of contemporary life. Neither a critique nor an endorsement, it represents an honest exploration of our world through Bjarki’s sonic lens, gleaming a heart of darkness, but eventually finding light.

The album utilises hyper-stereo techniques, soothing melodies, complex audio structures, AIgenerated voices and sampled vocals – influenced by Coil, Genesis P- Orridge, and Paul Lansky. Bjarki investigates how specific frequencies can impact consciousness, awareness, mood, and mental state, thereby influencing our perception of reality. His vaporous sound design provides a listening experience that bridges the physical and imaginative realms; sometimes placing the listener in contemplative sanctuary, and at others making them lost – somewhere strange, uneasy, disconnected.

Bjarki on his Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle

“This new album has been two years in the works. It’s sort of my take on all the social weirdness and wellness obsessions happening right now. It kicked off with a track I started in California – the story of a soul that got born into the wrong womb. During that time, I was noticing more and more of this whole ‘wellness religion’ everywhere – people trying to sell you ‘good vibes’ and random people offering you life coaching sessions on Instagram who maybe have less life experience than a houseplant. All these apps that track our every move; it’s like they’re repackaging control and calling it ‘self care’. Capitalism in yoga pants. Thats when I started putting ‘A Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle’ concept together. A never ending, self improvement rabbit hole. We are all being sold this idea that we are not quite enough and we need to buy our way out to being better.

At one point, I took a break from the album and started working on another album full of satirical speeches, AI generated voices, where I create my own voices and type in some ideas of speeches, taking the piss out of wellness gurus and life coaches. I messed a lot with these AI voice generators, creating these deep, faux serious monologues. Proper weird stuff, but it cracked me up. Reminded me of the early days, when I was 13, making tracks on Fruity Loops, mucking around with text-to- speech generators. After the break I came back to finish ‘The Guide’ on a much deeper level.

I moved part of my studio to Latvia and continued in the countryside for few months. I realised that I just wanted something beautiful. So, yeah, this album is all of that. It’s spiritual, bits and pieces from the past, all these weird cultural moments, and whatever strange places my head goes. It’s a reflection, a rebellion, a bit of a piss take. But mostly, it’s just me, doing what I do.” - Duncan Clark

The album will be released only in its entirety, December 13th digi, with no advance singles.

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

Two-Piers präsentiert die nächste Killer-Compilation: "Weird Scenes From The Hangout (Psychedelic & Freakbeat Dancefloor Anthems 1967-1982)", kuratiert von Richard Norris (The Grid, Beyond The Wizard's Sleeve, The Time And Space Machine) und zentriert um seine Liverpooler Clubnacht "The Hangout" in den 1980ern. Dort brachten er und weitere DJs bewusstseinsverändernden Wahnsinn aus Psychedelia und Freakbeat auf die Tanzfläche. Herausragende Songs wie "The Left Banke - I've Got Something On My Mind", "The Turtles - Buzzsaw" oder "Can - Outside Your Door" wurden zu echten Hangout-Hymnen. Man widmete der eher trendy Ausbeute der Spät-Sechziger ebenso viel Zeit wie angesagten Acts, solange der Groove auf dem Dancefloor funktionierte. Das Hangout kam und ging im Nu, aber sein Erbe, psychedelische Fußstampfer auf die Fläche zu bringen, lebt weiter, gemeinsam mit der Liebe zu allem, was mit Beat und Freak zu tun hat.
** Exclusive tracks to Vinyl Format

Two years ago, after Covid sent the industry into a tailspin I made the sad decision to stop pressing Holding Hands records to vinyl. This was gutting as the label had been putting records out from the first release and it had always felt like an integral part of the label’s identity.

It sucked but I always hoped that in the future I would be able to feel confident in pressing records again and I am so happy to say that the time has finally come again!


Earth Trax popped into my inbox with some demos and I instantly knew there was something special here. The tracks are absolutely timeless and will do the business on any dancefloor from now until the end of time.

The A sides have more of loopy club quality that you could listen to all night. The sort of thing that you just lose yourself to when it comes on in the club. You aren’t sure exactly when it came on but you suddenly realise that you’ve been gurning with your eyes closed for some indeterminate amount of time. Basically, they’re very chewy loops (note to self: potential cereal idea).

The B sides have more of a...for lack of a better word, B side quality to them. They’re both broken and they make me want to move my body from side to side in a sort of jagged cool 80’s way. Ones to make you move and think at the same time.

OK enough of my blather. Go and listen to the damn things yourself and decide if you like them, rather than trying to work it out from reading a bloody press release you weirdos.

All four tracks are produced and sculpted for the club. They want big sound systems and dark rooms.

Close your eyes, hold hands and experience transcendental space flight...

"As I'm getting older, chip up on my shoulder..." is the opening line from Mac DeMarco's second full-length LP `Salad Days,' the follow up to 2012's lauded `Mac DeMarco 2.' Amongst that familiar croon and lilting guitar, that initial line from the title track sets the tone for an LP of a maturing singer/songwriter/producer. Someone strangely self-aware of the positives and negatives of their current situation at the ripe old age of 23. Written and recorded around a relentless tour schedule (which picked up all over again as soon as the LP was done), `Salad Days' gives the listener a very personal insight into what it's all about to be Mac amidst the craziness of a rising career in a very public format. The lead single, "Passing Out Pieces," set to huge overdriven organ chords, contains lines like "...never been reluctant to share, passing out pieces of me..." Clearly, this isn't the same record that breezily gave us "Dreamin," and "Ode to Viceroy" but the result of what comes from their success. "Chamber of Reflection," a track featuring icy synth stabs and soulful crooning, wouldn't be out of place on a fantasy Shuggie Otis and Prince collaboration. Standout tracks like these show Mac's widening sound, whether insights into future directions or even just welcome one-off forays into new territory. Still, this is musically, lyrically and melodically good old Mac DeMarco, through and through. The same crisp John Lennon / Phil Spector era homegrown lush production that could have walked out of Geoff Emerick's mixing board in 1972, but with that peculiar Mac touch that's completely of right now. "Brother," a complete future classic, is Mac at his most soulful and easygoing but with that distinct weirdness and bite that can only come from Mr. DeMarco. "Treat Her Better" is rife with "Mac-isms," heavily chorused slinky lead guitar, swooning vocal melodies, effortless chords that come along only after years of effort, and the other elements seriously lacking in independent music: sentiment and heartfelt sincerity. We're only at Part 2 and 1/2 (one EP and two LP's in) into Mac's career. As you read this and as you hear the album on April Fool's Day of this year, he'll probably be on tour, or preparing for one... or maybe already writing new music. A relentless work ethic is something to be admired in today's indie music scene, but when it's of the quality Mac is giving us time and time again, it starts to turn from admiration to awe.

Razorlight were at the forefront of the indie-rock resurgence of the early 2000s, their biggest moments - ‘Golden Touch’, ‘Somewhere Else’, ‘In The Morning’, ‘America’ and ‘Wire To Wire’ - driving three Top 5 albums, nine Platinum album certifications, an NME Award, and live highlights including headlining the Reading Festival and performing at Live 8. After reuniting for live shows in 2021, the classic line-up - Johnny Borrell (vocals/guitar), Björn Ågren (guitar), Carl Dalemo (bass) and Andy Burrows (drums) - will release the new album ‘Planet Nowhere’ on October 25th, their first together since 2008. Razorlight preview the set by sharing its first single, ‘Scared Of Nothing’. Since reuniting, Razorlight have sold-out a headline tour which included a London show at the Eventim Apollo, and played shows as guests to Muse, Kaiser Chiefs and James. But as the ever ambitious Johnny challenged himself, “Who wants to be a greatest hits band?” So he hatched a plan, and late in 2023 booked a five-day session with the legendary producer Youth (The Verve, James) at his Space Mountain studio in Spain. Youth knew what they had to achieve, telling the band, “Razorlight’s quite simple isn’t it? Just a driving bassline, driving drums and a story.” For whatever reason, things weren’t that simple. After four days they had a stack of ideas, but nothing really worth pursuing. And then, as Johnny recalls, something remarkable emerged from out of nowhere. “I’d been down in the barranca, and came back up to find the studio empty. So I picked up this weird six-string bass/guitar hybrid I'd never seen before and wrote this thing. On our last night, I started playing it with the guys. The drums came in hard, the bass pounded. It sounded like shit. Absolute shit. But Youth was there, saying 'Can, Velvets, see where it takes you’ and 'Why don’t you try it like that?' But still, the track just wouldn't budge, locked in its own inertia. Youth says, 'You're getting there, just one more' and almost instantly the song came out, from nothing to something, like a statue coming up out of marble.” That song was ‘Scared of Nothing’ and listening back to the finished track, it’s easy to see why it resparked Razorlight’s mojo. Exuding taut, spiky post-punk energy in a way that’s instantly infectious - the very traits that attracted highfalutin praise from NME back when they started out (“More tunes than Franz, more spirit than The Strokes, and more balls than nearly every band out there”). And as ever, Johnny demonstrates the swaggering, high-intensity charisma that took him from being a figurehead of the Camden scene to rise to become a Vogue cover star. It was also the track which unlocked Razorlight’s creativity, leading the band to return to Spain with Youth for a second session earlier this year, during which they crafted an extensive catalogue of songs for the upcoming album. Other titles vying for inclusion include ‘Zombie Love’, ‘U Can Call Me’, ‘Dirty Luck’ and ‘Cool People’. Since returning, Razorlight have also looked back on their initial achievements, first releasing ‘Razorwhat? The Best of Razorlight’ (complete with the new song ‘You Are Entering The Human Heart’) and then last month issuing the 20th Anniversary Deluxe Edition of their breakthrough debut album ‘Up All Night’. Never a dull moment. Writing a new ending for themselves, Razorlight are back to cast out the boring in your life.

Speckled Dragon Egg Color 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.

Sasu Ripatti presents the fourth volume in his "Dancefloor Classics" series with five 10" releases coming throughout 2023. Music for imaginary dancefloors, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” click, click, click.

He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?

He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.

”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”

New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.

She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”

”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” click, click.

Q&A with Sasu Ripatti:

1) Tell us something about the EP series ”Dancefloor Classics”, what’s the idea and what can we expect?

I’ve been slowly writing these sort of dance music pieces and finally curated them together for a conceptual release. I like to create music for a dancefloor that exists only in my imagination and doesn’t try to suck up to the standardized reality.

2) Your vinyl format is 10” which is quite special (as opposed to LP / 12”). Why did you choose it?

It’s my favourite format, absolutely. The size is perfect, and you can make it sound really good @ 45 rpm. And you still can make great artwork.

3) You seem interested in sampling/repurposing, what does it mean to you as an artist to approach something already existing from a new angle? How does the source material inform you about the approach to take?

I guess i could flip it around and just say I’ve outgrown synths or electronic sounds to a great extend, and having gotten rid off all my synths already good while ago I’ve used samples as my main source material a lot. It’s obvious on this series that i’ve sampled existing music, but I also sample instruments and things in the studio and resample my own library that I have built over the years, it’s quite large. To me the end result matters, not so much how I get there. Once I have something on my keyboard and play around, it’s all an instrument, though with sampling other music it becomes a really interesting and complex one as you’re possibly playing rhythm, but also harmonic content and maybe hooks or whatever, all at once.
I never sample premeditadedly, like listening to records and looking for that mindblowing 3 sec part. I just throw the cards in the air and see what lands where, just full intuition and hopefully zero mind involved, playing tons of stuff, trying things, just recording hours of stuff. Then comes the interesting part to listen to hours of mostly crazy stuff and finding that mindblowing 3 sec part.

4) What is your relationship with the dancefloor (conceptually and/or in experiences / as a performer)?

Very complicated. I have never really felt comfortable on a dancefloor but have always wanted to. There’s something in club music, in theory, that really speaks to me. It has never really materialized for me – speaking mainly from a performer’s point of view who goes to check on a dancefloor for a moment after a concert. I never have DJ’d or felt much interest towards it. But again, I love the idea and concept of DJing. As well as producing music for imaginary DJs. Lately, as in the past 10+ years, I haven’t even performed in any sort of club spaces. So my relationship to the dancefloor is quite removed and reduced, but there’s quite a bit of passion and interest left.

All tracks composed and produced by Sasu Ripatti.
Artwork & photography by Marc Hohmann.
Mastering by Stephan Mathieu for Schwebung Mastering.
Vinyl cut by SST Brueggemann.
Publishing by WARP Music Ltd.

Sasu Ripatti presents the fifth and last volume in his "Dancefloor Classics" series. Music for imaginary dancefloors, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

--

”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” click, click, click.
He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?
He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.
”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”
New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.
She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”
”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” click, click.

Speckled Dragon Egg Color 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.

Strange Sensations is a new EP from Paul Renegade.
In between Lazerdrome / Phonomena releases (news on that soon) and with a folder full of spare tunes, this 4 track EP comes on white vinyl on sister label DragonDrop Records
This release features a mix of happy pianos, dark synths, ruff beats and Jungle Tekno vibes, all at various BPMs so there’s a bit of something for everybody.
On the A-side, Zer0 Gravity Fire is fast-paced ’94-style stompy hardcore (160BPM) with rushy pianos, while the synths and piano lines of Mind Over Mind slow the pace down a bit at 140BPM in an early ‘92 style.
On the flip side, Weird Dreams (160BPM) takes you between the worlds of happy and the darkside and Danger: Battledroid is an experimental dark hardcore track at 165BPM, mixing well in either a hardcore or jungle set.

Swiss intergalactic 3 piece experimentalists lean on a Dadaist theme for their late-night, jam-inspired, and smokey beat laden trip to the cosmos.

Distilling surf rock, jazz and ambience, energised and patched together with spoken word samples, wind instruments and, blunted hip hop beats, ali dada’s album SUM is their invitation to dadaversum’ - their eccentric universe of sound and emotion.

Featuring Orlando Ludens (guitar & ambient soundscapes), Rulla (beats & field recordings) and Max Licht (brass & trombone), experimentation is the trio’s constant and SUM is the result of jams and associative distillation’ always with a fluid sense of genre.

Whilst SUM clearly takes new and furtive steps, ali dada’s sound is wholly their own. Nothing feels rigid here and rules don’t apply. Improvisation lingers in the air, even after the last note fades. A series of sound sketches, dense in detail, stylistically rich, SUM gives licence to couch-melt, sungaze or for those used to wintry climes, add another log on the fire.

“The songs often emerge from imperfect elements or mistakes, like from a loop or glitch. or something I played that wasn’t quite clean and building on that becomes the challenge ” recalls Orlando. Rulla adds “I play a lot of instruments, very, very badly and in music production, I’m trained to craft something awesome out of wonky sounds. That’s how songs emerge from unusual sounds”.

As for who played the double bass, no one remembers. Who belongs to the band and who doesn’t is open to interpretation. Though a core group exists the spotlight remains on experimentation through jam sessions. ali dada is a construct, a dadaverse.

Highlights include the album’s opener 'abolish the police', a mix of guitars, weirded-out wind instruments and Häuserfrau’s ever chilled vocal presence. 'tone print' is the band’s first single from the album, which combines sliding guitar, the infamous psychedelic Tim as a narrator, some early CPU game sound-splats and a meteoric dope beat, providing the head nodding groove. 'ohnedi'’s ambient charm features some gorgeous manipulated choir moments and some fidgety electronic synths.

Hassan Abou Alam is next to step up to the unconventional Nerve Collect label with six tracks of futuristic club-ready chaos. The finely crafted EP arrives in August and comes on 12" vinyl and via all digital platforms.

Hassan Abou Alam has established himself as one of Egypt's most innovative underground musicians over the last 10+ years. His music is a meeting of disparate worlds - organic and synthetic designs, digital and analogue tools, the traditional and the futuristic, and it has come on the likes of YUKU, Rhythm Section, Banoffee Pies and Casa Voyager. His versatile sound pulls apart existing genres and reconstructs them as something entirely new.

Opener '3asabi' is a stylish sonic assault with thumping rhythms and trippy oscillations that will get any dance floor bouncing. It's fun yet functional, serious yet seductive and 'Basha' Ft. ZIAD ZAZA, Ismail Nosrat & Aly B is another kinetic fusion of hand claps and complex drum funk, Egyptian vocal gymnastics and punchy bass. 'Ghalat' has lurching drums and plunging bass driving on beneath mangled synths, odd vocalisations and percussive splatters drawn from a unique sound palette. The drilling low ends of 'Khalsana' Ft ZIAD ZAZA are offset by fluttering percussive details up top while spare but booming kicks shake every bone in your body and the bassline devastates.

There is no let up on 'Mesh Mafhoom' which is a ritualistic workout with moments of melancholic synth soul shining through the jumble of tin-pot percussion and crashing hits. Closer 'Zein' is more body-popping brilliance that channels ancient spirits into warped synths and rhythms so complex they melt the mind.
Hassan Abou Alam's blurring of the lines between the real and the imagined is second to none on this EP. It's a sub-heavy mix of the human voice, machine-made sounds and inventive rhythms that make for something new, weird and wonderful.

Coming out on September 6th on Sharptone Records, Sundiver is Boston Manor’s fifth album and one that represents a glimmering dawn for the Blackpool five-piece. Grown from a seedbed of optimism and sobriety, the LP celebrates new beginnings, second chances and rebirth. With two members recently stepping into fatherhood, hope is baked into every note. “Datura came out of these really dark few years over the hangover of the pandemic,” Henry reflects. “I'd been struggling a lot with drinking and not taking care of myself and bad mental health and stuff. We wanted Sundiver to be the next morning of the following day.” He explains that it feels good this time round to write through the lens of positivity. “The themes began to emerge, of rebirth, spring, dawn, sunshine and then other elements just started to fit into that.” It was during the making of Sundiver that Henry found out he was going to be a dad. This album is a significant one for the band. Originally coming out of the emo and pop punk scene, they’ve explored sonics and genres throughout their career, taken risks and achieved more than they could ever had dreamed of. They’ve grown up as Boston Manor – their lives and the world changing around them. They’re now taking stock, at a crossroads of the band they were and the band they could be.
While writing the album, they revisited the bands that shaped them in the late 90s and early 00s. “I was listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager and I just thought, why don't we make music like our favourite bands?”, guitarist Mike Cuniff remembers with a smile. “So we brought our interests to the table that way. Y2K kind of vibe. There are elements of Deftones, there are elements of Portishead in there, some Garbage, The Cardigans.” He laughs and adds NSYNC to the list of inspirations. From this cocktail of classics comes a dynamic and ambitious record, rich with depth, groove and more hooks than Peter Pan’s nightmares. Lyrics that foxtrot from parallel universes to personal growth, vivid dreamscapes to raw grief. Individually they’re single strokes full of meaning and magic. Together they’re a landscape.
Container (out Feb 15th) is the first single and it’s them at their best – impassioned and infectious. “This song is about the stagnancy of life creeping up on you & how that can bring about change.,” Henry explains, citing Ocean Song by US band Daughters as an inspiration.

The concept of the butterfly effect is present on Sundiver – how small actions can lead to big changes. This is no clearer than on their second single, Sliding Doors (out April 5th). It has the golden sound of late 90s Lollapalooza rock – think Smashing Pumpkins - rebooted with crisp 2024 production and a potent heaviness. In the lyrics Henry wonders, what if?, pondering on what could be. The idea that there are infinite versions of you whose lives splinter off in different directions at every decision you make. That there’s another you out there somewhere right now reading this sentence, and another me writing it. “So much is down to chance and circumstance,” Henry says. “You might catch that train and your life totally changes. Or you might miss it and things stay the way they are.”
Heat Me Up (out May 30th) is defiant and victorious, the audio equivalent of quitting your shit job and driving into the hot summer sun with a head full of dreams. “The lyrics are about love and gratitude,” Henry shares. “Another theme on the record is just appreciating what you have. It’s about not taking for granted the things that you've been afforded.”
There was some natural magic in the creation of Sundiver. They worked with their usual producer, Larry Hibbitt, and engineer, Alex O’Donovan, but instead of recording in London again they ended up in the green pastures of Welwyn Garden City. “Because Larry lives out in the countryside now, it was a way different environment and way different experience recording this time,” Mike remembers. “That contributed a lot to the brighter sound of the record.” The daily barbecues they had during their recording sessions imbued the process with harmony – five old friends spending quality time together and making quality music.
However, the album is by no means one-note. Birthing this new world they’ve created wasn’t without it’s pain, and that can be heard in the heavier moments on Sundiver. What Is Taken Will Never Be Lost is the most-stripped back on the album, a slow rock number seasoned with the downtempo Portishead influence. The heartfelt lyrics are Henry’s way of processing the loss of his grandfather, who died in a hospice last year(?). “It was just fucking horrible. It was always cold when I went there and they were always trying to get rid of me. The song title, What Was Taken Can Ever Be Lost, is the idea of his memory fading at the time because of dementia.” Henry goes onto explain that shoeboxes of photographs, diaries and a legacy is what he’s left behind. “He lived a really rich life and it has really impacted me and my father. His legacy is etched into the fabric of history in a very small way.” This song continues the connection between his grandfather and the band, as his painted face is emblazoned on the cover of the very first Boston Manor EP, Driftwood. As well as emotionally heavy themes, there’s heaviness in the music of Sundiver too. The closing song, Oil In My Blood, descends into an intense shoegaze outro with Debbie Gough from Heriot screaming hellfire. It’s in moments like this that the band show us aggression and fury can be as much a part of positive change as quiet introspection. The last lyrics of the song, “It resets and starts again,” leaves us in contemplation as the final chord rings out.
Touring the US, Europe and Japan over the years makes for an impressive CV, but if you know anything about Boston Manor you’ll know that they’re all about their hometown. Their choice to work with Blackpool-based photographer Nick Barkworth is testament to that. They’ve been working with him since the pandemic. “He captures Blackpool in a light that really reflects the weirdness and quirkiness of the town,” Henry says.” He's got a really good way of presenting that.” For the Sundiver cover, Nick photographed a 30ft tall abstract glass sculpture made by the local artist John Ditchfield. A striking and bewitching monolith that’s familiar to them but unusual to most people. “It has such kind of a gravity and power to it,” Henry describes the sculpture which stands in a field just outside of the seaside town. “It reminds me of either an explosion or a star or a supernova. To me it represents new life, power and radiance.” Boston Manor have got a knack for that - connecting the otherworldly and the everyday, the stars and the streets.
They’re a band known for using their music to make bigger statements about society. This time round they’re harnessing the uplifting power of music, and the communion it creates, as an antidote to the daily doom and isolation. “It seems like absolute chaos out there at the moment,” Henry says. “You’ve got Gaza and Israel, you've got Russia, you've got the fact that 40% of the world is going to have an election this year and increasingly most governments are leaning very far to the Right. The internet is dividing everybody, people are getting poorer and more desperate. It's really, really scary.” They considered trying to tackle the weight of it all in their music. “We could’ve written Welcome to the Neighbourhood on steroids, where it's just absolute darkness and misery”. He’s referring to their 2018 concept album that deals with class, inequality and the bleaker side of Blackpool. “But I think it's really important to write something that people can be immersed in and find some sort of solace in. Somewhere they can escape to from the modern day pressures and everything that’s going on. We’re all in this together.”

After releasing my album 'ÖÐRUVÍSI,' which was a very personal and emotionally challenging project, I felt the need to make something weird and energetic for the club. I’m really into tunes that feel both slow and fast simultaneously.

The first track on the EP, 'Let’s be Havin u,' was initially hard to place genre-wise, i ended up sending it to Darren, who loved it and wanted to sign it. Releasing on Exit kinda feels like earning a black belt as a producer hah. I never imagined that a decade after buying Exit 12”s in 2014, I’d be releasing my own music on the label.

When I started making the EP, I had just begun performing again. I often saw people on the dance floor, too out of it to enjoy the music and often some of them having to be carried by their friends to backstage. This made me wanna make tunes for the dance floor as a bit of a statement on this. I first tested 'Let’s be Havin u' at Prikið in Reykjavik, sounded mad on the little old funktion one. The moment I knew that I was onto something with the EP was when I was Performing in Bristol at Thekla for my friend Boofy. It was wild, the ceiling started leaking during the show. I Love Bristol, feels like home to me.

Most of the percussion and hats on the EP are made with an Elektron Model Cycles, and the synths and pads are from a 80s Yamaha hybrid FM/sample synth I found at a thrift store. It doesn’t have MIDI, so I have to record perfect takes for chords and melodies. I often use pedals afterwards or resample the sounds for more tonal control.

I enjoy digging for records with unique breaks to sample, as I feel this is lacking nowadays. I usually make all my drums from scratch but when I use breaks I like it to be something I haven’t heard before. The alien percussion sound in the last track is actually me biting my teeth together, resampled repeatedly and ran through pedals and interfaces. I also recorded myself chewing gum for the second track to give it that hand on the hip feel. Most of the EP is made with hardware, outboard gear, or real-life recordings.

I’m not concerned about the EP fitting a specific genre or playlist. Too many artists play it safe by focusing on their Spotify stats and abandoning projects that don’t work instantly. I think also Obsessive nostalgia stifles innovation, keeping things stuck in a loop by replicating to the tee, tunes from 2 decades ago. I get it, but there has to be a middle ground sometimes.

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

This album was a self imposed ambitious project for us. Something to kick in the creative flow. The last few years, having been a challenging time in general, felt like a good time for a pivot. The last two albums were so guitar and keyboard centric, I wanted a weird and fun set of parameters for us to work with. I demo’d everything at home on cassette 4 track (harkening back to simpler times) using drum loops, and just had at it 'til I had a pile of “songs”. Tom and I chose one sound each using synths and created a range of 3 octaves of that sample, then loaded them into Roland SPD-SX samplers and learned the transcribed songs using drum sticks. The idea was to change the way we wrote and to have 4 people along the front of the stage essentially playing percussion. So no guitar, no keys. As we were recording I kept thinking how the sounds, when paired up, sounded a bit like brass. So, we added a saxophone horn section to round out the horniness of the sound with a bit of reedy bell tones. Thanks to Cansfis Foote & Brad Caulkins on tenor and Baritone saxophones :) Sort of a Dexy’s Midnight Runners meets Von LMO meets The Flesh Eaters meets the Screamers kinda punk junk. Poppy and hooky, heavy at times.. Sort of vacuous and maybe a bit sci-fi in sound. Boneheaded in riff and heady in lyrics. Recorded at Stu-Stu-Studio by me on 8 track 1/4” tape . So pretty hot and raw. Lots to write about today. A lot of these lyrics were taken from things people said in passing about taking on life right now that stuck with me. Things that made me reflect. Things that made me laugh. Things that made me WTF. Some folks are kind, genuine & give you love and energy. Some are greedy manipulative ghouls who hang off your veins. You must be strong, composed and take care of yourself. Be self aware and check your mind for cracks. Learn to relax and be well. There are moments of beauty and redemption. Its not all bad news and there’s always hope. People continue to surprise me one way or another. Anyhow, Hope you enjoy and good luck out there. — John Dwyer

I’ve lost my sense, I’ve lost control, I’ve lost my mind! Yeah, we all know how the song goes, but those words will no doubt end up driving their point home throughout the duration of Bloodstains’ self-titled debut LP. This thoroughly-welcome Euro pressing follows the album’s DIY release earlier in 2024, which is excellent news for UK/mainland fans of early 80s SoCal hardcore who’ve yet to hear it - the whole thing absolutely fkn rips. Feel free to rifle through your Adolescents, Weirdos and (natch) Agent Orange records to see what these guys have been mining, but all you’ll find is a launchpad - Bloodstains inevitably hail from California and they’re clearly au fait with all the above (not to mention a certain compilation), but they manage to inhabit that sound with a personality all of their own. Vocalist Cesar Marin splits his delivery between a sneering bark (like the most withering put-downs you’ve ever heard being delivered via nailgun) and a purposeful, melodic croon… which itself sounds it’s made from sandpaper and vitriol, but there you go. Most importantly, this is a band with SONGS. Eight of ‘em here, to be precise, and you’ll rarely have been so glad to have something turned up so loud it blows holes in your speakers. ‘Stray Bullets’ hangs its mighty chorus on a call-and-response refrain that dares you not to pick a side and bellow along, while instrumental opener ‘The Last Rites’ sets you up perfectly for the seething, volatile bundle of hooks to follow. I’d say the interplay between the band’s string-wielding Espinoza contingent is something to behold as well, but what am I, some kinda nerd? The guitars sound fkn awesome - that’ll do ya. And I don’t wanna spoil the party ahead of time, but just wait til you hear future anthem ‘Public Hanging’. I could go on about this record all day, but ultimately all you need to do is listen to it. Hell, even buy it. And dare I return to a theme, lose your mind.

This album was a self imposed ambitious project for us. Something to kick in the creative flow. The last few years, having been a challenging time in general, felt like a good time for a pivot. The last two albums were so guitar and keyboard centric, I wanted a weird and fun set of parameters for us to work with. I demo’d everything at home on cassette 4 track (harkening back to simpler times) using drum loops, and just had at it 'til I had a pile of “songs”. Tom and I chose one sound each using synths and created a range of 3 octaves of that sample, then loaded them into Roland SPD-SX samplers and learned the transcribed songs using drum sticks. The idea was to change the way we wrote and to have 4 people along the front of the stage essentially playing percussion. So no guitar, no keys. As we were recording I kept thinking how the sounds, when paired up, sounded a bit like brass. So, we added a saxophone horn section to round out the horniness of the sound with a bit of reedy bell tones. Thanks to Cansfis Foote & Brad Caulkins on tenor and Baritone saxophones :) Sort of a Dexy’s Midnight Runners meets Von LMO meets The Flesh Eaters meets the Screamers kinda punk junk. Poppy and hooky, heavy at times.. Sort of vacuous and maybe a bit sci-fi in sound. Boneheaded in riff and heady in lyrics. Recorded at Stu-Stu-Studio by me on 8 track 1/4” tape . So pretty hot and raw. Lots to write about today. A lot of these lyrics were taken from things people said in passing about taking on life right now that stuck with me. Things that made me reflect. Things that made me laugh. Things that made me WTF. Some folks are kind, genuine & give you love and energy. Some are greedy manipulative ghouls who hang off your veins. You must be strong, composed and take care of yourself. Be self aware and check your mind for cracks. Learn to relax and be well. There are moments of beauty and redemption. Its not all bad news and there’s always hope. People continue to surprise me one way or another. Anyhow, Hope you enjoy and good luck out there. — John Dwyer

Una Magnum Special Per Tony Saitta (aka. Blazing Magnum: Strange Shadows In An Empty Room)> is a cop movie directed in year 1976 by Alberto De Martino and starring Stuart Whitman, Martin Landau, Tisa Farrow, and Gayle Hunnicutt. It was co-produced by Italy and Canada. An Ottawa police captain searches for the person who poisoned his sister, who was attending the university in Montreal. Later on, he desperately starts to use his own brutal methods to find the killer, but the truth turns out to be something different than what he had expected.

Trovajoli has composed and conducted a score that elegantly occupies a place of all respect in the Cops/Giallo movies’ scoring. The score alternates between action-driven funky music to nostalgic/romantic music in a reflection of the two dimensions of the protagonist: his cop job full of tasks and his private life full of sadness, but he becomes the superhero of the story by taking vengeance against those who hurt him by killing his beloved sister, and ultimately discovering the unexpected truth. For this vinyl album the original record master in stereo sound was used, restored and remastered to the highest quality. More or less the music in the movie is featured on this album, prepared for release by the composer himself for a very fine listening experience. Enjoy a half-hour with Armando Trovajoli and his cool sound!

*REMASTERED ROUGH TRADE 4 TRACK E.P LIMITED TO JUST 500 COPIES*

Everything on “Up Home!” is bigger, richer; the guitars are huge, as though they’re being played through the clouds, massive gusts of blue-green noise that move across the stereo spectrum like weather systems. “Baby Milk Snatcher” is built around face-flattening dub bass, with glinting piano and shards of guitar ricocheting through the song. “W.O.G.S.” is delirious to the point of expiration; “One Way Mirror” is their attempt at weird, lopsided ‘anti-funk’, the song’s melody crushed by avalanches of six-string interference. And the closing “Up” is AR Kane’s masterpiece, a disembodied thud pulsing at its heart as a six-note guitar melody spirals ever onward, Ayuli’s voice lost in its own reverie, hymning escapism via references to Jamaican political activist Marcus Garvey’s ‘black star line’.
• Jon Dale, lead review in Uncut Magazine
who grew up together in Stratford, East London. From the off the pair were outsiders in the culturally mixed (cockney/Irish/West Indian/Asian) milieu of the East End, with Alex and Rudy’s folks first generation immigrants from Nigeria and Malawi, respectively. The two of them quickly developed and fostered an innate and near-telepathic mutual understanding forged in musical, literary and
artistic exploration. Like a lot of second-generation immigrants, they were ferocious autodidacts in all kinds of areas, especially around music and literature. Diving deep into the music of afro-futurist luminaries such as Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Lee Perry and Hendrix, as well as devouring the explorations of lysergic noise and feedback from contemporaries like Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, they also thoroughly immersed themselves in the alternate literary realities of sci-fi and ancient history (the fascination with the arcane that gave the band their name), all to feed their voracious cultural thirsts and intellectual curiosity.

It was seeing the Cocteau Twins performing on Channel 4 show the Tube that spurred A.R. Kane into being - “They had no drummer. They used tapes and technology and Liz Fraser looked completely otherworldly with those big eyes. And the noise coming out of Robin’s guitar! That was the ‘Fuck! We could do that!
The duo debuted with the astonishing ‘When You’re Sad’ single for One Little Indian in
1986. Immediately dubbed a ‘black Jesus & Mary Chain’ by a press unsure of WHERE to put a black band clearly immersed in feedback and noise, what was immediately apparent for listeners was just how much more was going on here – a tapping of dub’s stealth and guile, a resonant umbilicus back to fusion and jazz, the music less a conjuration of past highs than a re-summoning of lost spirits.

The run of singles and EPs that followed picked up increasingly rapt reviews in the press, but it was the ‘Up Home EP’ released in 1988 on their new home, Rough Trade that really suggested something immense was about to break. SimonReynolds noted the EP was: Their most concentrated slab of iridescent awesomeness and a true pinnacle of an era that abounded with astounding
landmarks of guitar-reinvention, A.R. Kane at their most elixir-like.

If anything, the remastered ‘Up Home’ is even more dazzling, even more startling than it was when it first emerged, and listening now you again wonder not just about how many bands christened ‘shoegaze’ tried to emulate it, but how all of them fell so far short of its lambent, pellucid wonder. This
remains intrinsically experimental music but with none of the frowning orthodoxy those words imply. A.R. Kane, thanks to that second generation auto-didacticism were always supremely aware about the interstices of music and magic, but at the same time gloriously free in the way they explored that connection within their own sound, fascinated always with the creation of ‘perfect mistakes’ and the possibilities inherent in informed play.

‘Empires into Sand’ is the first album of new material from Normil Hawaiians in 40 years. The group first refined their sound during the early 80s, hitting on a pastoral experimentalism that drew on ambient drone, motorik impulse and post-punk pep.
‘Empires into Sand’ came together in the familiar manner of their original three albums, with improvisation and nuance informing the blueprint of the tracks. It was with the official release of this last record ‘Return of the Ranters’ (originally recorded in 1984/85, but then unconsciously shelved) in 2015 by Upset The Rhythm that led to the group reconnecting with the intention of playing music together again. Normil Hawaiians played a launch show for that ‘lost album’ and followed that up with more concerts, including an appearance at Supernormal, a residency at the Edinburgh Festival, gigs at Cafe OTO. They were even chosen by Richard Dawson to perform with him in London.
Throughout this time, Normil Hawaiians revisited their original songs for live performance. However for a group always so interested in evolving their sound, it came as no surprise that they shirked at the idea of a faithful retread. The band pushed their songs into new inventive dimensions, still progressive at core, but now imbued with a cosmic uncanny. A cinematic approach that was always quietly present has come to the fore. The quaint weirdness of folk song, the humanity of communal practice and the group’s ecological mindedness have all found a place in Normil Hawaiians’ current sound world.
When Normil Hawaiians write and record music they prefer to gather in a remote location and live together for a while, such is their communal ethos. Being far-flung across the UK, the Family Hawaii (numbering seven key members) decided to encamp to Tayinloan, a small village on the west coast of the Kintyre peninsula in Scotland. They set up their own studio in an isolated, windswept house overlooking the sea and started the tape rolling. Noel Blanden from the band explains the process neatly: “we set up and began playing, slowly and patiently, allowing the music to take its own shape based on where we were staying and our ongoing friendship. We recorded for days, capturing everything. A lot of new and rich ideas began to emerge”.
Normil Hawaiians took their time to develop these threads at their own pace, allowing songs to mutate and settle over months. Simon Marchant deftly produced and recorded the album whilst also performing in the band, this marked the first time the band had total control of their own sound. The last few years has seen the band reconvene in Herne Bay, Faversham, London and Leith to record new parts, constantly responding to the changing form of these quietly spectral songs of defiance.
‘Empires into Sand’ incorporates samples from old rehearsals and live music into the new finished pieces, this is in continuum with their previous records. Snippets of sound from the static of short wave radio and satellite transmissions also embellish the work. In fact the whole album is stitched together with interludes, creating an acutely immersive 45 minutes. ‘Exiles’ opens the album amid swirling atmospheres, synth flights and recordings of Vilnis Egle (father of Zinta Egle from the band) retelling his experience of fleeing his home in Latvia during Soviet occupation in 1942. George Bikandy also features on this track talking about his flight from Syria in 2014. ‘Ghosts of Ballochroy’ is a winding river of a song featuring a lively discourse in Scots courtesy of Rodney Relax. There’s a commitment to truth telling present across this hopeful album populated with angels, incoming tides, long shadows and the rose-washed sun. “From our broken windscreen, we feel the breeze” soars Guy Smith triumphantly over the driving beat of ‘Waterfalls : Bedford 330’. ‘Big City Sky’ flutters and sparkles with rapid synth runs, tape-looped drums and Jimmy Miller’s commanding vocal. With ‘In The Stone’ Zinta’s melody is deliberately jagged and blunt, exaggerated by octave-layered vocals and interjections from Guy.
This is thought-provoking, boundary-bothering music. Honest in intent, a solidarity of vision. The album’s title is derived from a poem by band member Mark Tyler, who sadly passed away during the recording process and the transience of life is felt heavily throughout. Noel best coins the group’s wish for the album: “we wanted to create an album that acknowledges our history and also reflects who we are today. We remained true to ourselves and we wanted to make something beautiful without removing the edges.” ‘Empires into Sand’ certainly does that, it’s an echo from the past, an echo from the future.

Tangential Music is pleased to present the new album from veteran Spanish DJ and producer, Dj Toner (aka Antonio Herrera). Alongside his co-writer/arranger Daniel Molina and with guests that include the legendary Blue Note Records innovator Erik Truffaz and Grammy winning flautist and saxophonist Jorge Pardo, he has created a 10 track collection of slow-burning instrumentals that straddle the worlds of hip hop, jazz and electronica.

With a personal, precision tooled approach to his craft, the Andalusian has offered up an album of finely modelled downbeat moods.

At first glance, ‘Out Side’ is made up of recognisably superior hip hop instrumentals but if you listen carefully, and with patience, one can hear a craftsman at work. A wooden box is just a box until you look closer. The hidden joints, the perfect lining up of the grain, the years of artisanal graft and laser-focussed attention to detail that go into making something that has nothing present, that doesn’t deserve to be there. This is how Dj Toner operates.

The two singles that preempt the album’s release reveal different sides of his craft. ‘Camina’ struts with tough intentions. Soundtrack-y in an exploitation police drama manner, the get-out-of-my-way drum break and tension-filled chords suggest the bad cop, Erik Truffaz’s piercing lyrical trumpet lines, the good. The Afro-jazz horns led second release ‘Surprise’ is an altogether more playful, sunbaked affair. Sensual and slow-burning, there’s still an edge but it’s too hot to quarrel.

Dj Toner’s minimalist attitude to creation is shared with his co-composer Molina - an individual’s contribution may be cut to the bone, leaving just its aura or tone. The echo of a piano, a single blast of tuneful wind from a flute, a perfectly positioned drum hit.

Since the Wu-Tang Clan’s RZA began applying his beatmaking prowess to movie soundtracks, the hip hop instrumental has been acknowledged as something to listen to, as much as being used as a DJ tool or backing for an MC. Dj Toner’s instrumentals can, therefore, be seen as soundtracks. Soundtracks to his life and craft, vignettes of his environment in both the urban sprawl and the wider and slower spaces of “el campo”.

The sweet-tempered jazz-blues of ‘La Rimosa’ is a gentle welcome to the album. A simple, laid back groove with the most romantic of piano hooks that one could imagine Common dropping rhymes on. You’re kept on your toes with the odd purposeful moment of discordant interruption but the tender heart of the composition is never far away.

‘O’Beat’ hints at John Coltrane with the sparse but full-sounding upright bass before a head-snap break leads into a curious piano groove, a vintage organ swirls into a psychedelic fractal, whilst the bluesy female vocal snippets add the spice, that zing in the Granadan gazpacho.

The flamenco guitar driven ‘Flama’ is an excellent example of intricate sample placement and musicality. Old school (school yard) scratch interludes, sweet piano hooks, a minimalist but knife sharp flute contribution from Jorge Pardo, and the crunchiest of drums taking us for an intriguing walk round the corner.

We’ve mentioned them before but it’s on ‘Sweetband’ that we can feel that Wu-Tang dread hanging off its shoulders. A brooding orchestral number with powerful horns and a cavernous piano hit. The title of the piece is in stark contrast to the dark shadows of the tune.

Erik Truffaz returns in fine form on the super lethargic jazz-funk-hop of ‘The Day’. His instantly identifiable muted trumpet sound paints dazzling colours over the more earthy tones of the filtered down keys as a rubbery upright bass keeps the forward momentum. Dj Toner’s ‘Blessed Are The Weird People’ album, was rated in Jazz Magazine as one of the 20 jazz albums of 2021, so he isn’t some dilettante when it comes to playing with the complex hues of jazz but he does like to strip it to its bare essentials.

‘Fanega’ sees a gorgeous flute contribution from Jorge Pardo. An eerie boom-bap groove with sprinkles of electronic pulses and washed out chords is the canvas on which the award-winning multi-instrumentalist evokes the heat shimmer of the savannah.


‘Esperanza’ translates as ‘hope’ in English and this lovely slow, swinging jazzy groove really does provoke feelings of positivity and belief. Sublime vibraphone and another stunning trumpet offering from Erik Truffaz, take us on a journey of warm days and possibilities, the shuffling drums and sweet chord patterns are nicely finished off by a tranquil horn chorus towards its unhurried end.

‘Under Beat’ ends on a beefy boom-bap groove with a liquid funk bassline, elegant synth strings and old school scratching. Again, there’s that undisputable soundtrack edge, action and motion, the smell of the city.

There you have it, 10 tracks that go beyond the surface, deep into the dedicated craft of Dj Toner. Decades of experience and collaboration purified and refined into beat-heavy emotions, listen closely or crank it up, it’s down to you!