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Emotional Rescue returns after a much-needed year hiatus, refreshed and ready, as it moves into its 15th year, to further explore the environs of oft-forgotten musical secrets and present them to new heads and minds.

To celebrate, the label looks back to one of its favourite collaborations, the music of French ‘Ethno-Industrialists’ Vox Populi! in presenting a truly unique EP of “In Dub”, inspired remixes by 4 fellow Paris based artists of today in Full Circle, Froid Dub, Krikor and Shelter.

“In Dub” takes a selection of songs from the series of albums reissued or compiled on Emotional Rescue and sister label, Platform 23, and gives the Master tapes to this talented ensemble to offer their own, unique dub reworks. The project explores the on-going advances in technology offered, mixed with pure talent and a respectful homage.

Formed by Axel Kyrou and including wife Mitra, as well as long-term music and art partners Pierre Jolivet aka Pacific 231 and Francis Lafont aka FR6 Man, they forged a path from obscure, drum and drum-based cassette releases on to fully realized albums and compilations on their now cult Vox Man Records.

Alexis Le Tan and Joakim’s Full Circle project starts, with their electronic dub remake of Soleyman Dub from the ‘Alternatif Réalisme’ compilation (ERC079). With releases on Good Morning Tapes, Offen and their own “Released” label, their plaudits as master diggers and producers of dubby tripped-out inspired electronics – releasing slowed Trance some 10 years before anyone else – is inspired. Tuning in and turning on the original dub into a mantra style slow-breaks (Digi)dub is the perfect experimental flavour.

Jube Man is next, a twisted, psychedelic dub out by rising stars Froid Dub. The stand-out from the ‘Magiques Creations’ release (ERC052), an album that explored Vox Populi’s furtive post-industrial period of 1984 to 1988, Jube Man was the perfect selection by the duo of François Marché and Stéphane Bodin.

Froid Dub have steadily developed their “cold” Digidub style to acclaim –

releasing a steady flow of dub inspired electronics on their own label Delodio, as well as recently appearing on sister label Emotional Response’s 10th year anniversary collection, ‘All Trades’. Their haunting, shuffling and murky acid / piano dub, with the drifting “Space Echoing” of Mitra’s vocals from the live desk mix, creates a ghostly version to effect.

Next, master mixer, producer and engineer Krikor serves a steppers remake with his “OverDub” of Zen-Dub. With a career that spans releases on Tigersushi, LIES and Soul Jazz, his sound has developed from Electro, House and Techno, to Acid, Bleep, Dancehall, Dub and touches of Gabba.

Taken from Vox Populi!’s master-opus Aither (ERC030), the first of our reissues dating back to 2016, Zen-Dub’s pacey, lo-fi dub experience is transformed and overdubbed into an incessant sound system throb, a true bass quaking “steppa”.

To close, Micro Climax is put through Shelter’s increasing avant dub exposition. Appearing on the likes of Growing Bin, Emotional Response and his own Protopost, as well for – and being in-house designer – on the much-missed Séance Centre, Alan Briand aka Shelter productions have developed from Balearic, Edits and House to explore Avant, Raga and live Dub productions.

Appearing on the recent ‘Ethniques Pyschedeliques’ compilation on Platform 23 (PLA032), in original form Micro Climax is a sprawling 10-minute ethno-dub of whispered vocals, drone and sub bass. Shelter strips it back, keeping background effects, adding live bass and percussion to create a wonky, slow, shuffling ska-lite excursion to complete a true “In Dub”.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Toronto’s Ducks Ltd. (formerly Ducks Unlimited), the bright jangle-pop duo of Tom McGreevy (lead vocal, guitar, bass, keyboards) and Evan Lewis (guitar, bass, drum programming), accomplish the impossible. The pair craft songs that play to very specific inspirations without drowning underneath them—immediately evidenced on their critically acclaimed EP, Get Bleak, and sharpened on Modern Fiction, their debut LP. “The Servants, The Clean, The Chills, The Bats, Television Personalities, Felt,” Evan rattles off. “Look Blue Go Purple is one I reference a lot with our production.” Echoes of ‘80s indiepop abound, but they never overwhelm. This is not a nostalgic record, after all, nor is it a derivative one. Instead, across 10 cheery-sounding songs, Ducks Ltd. explore contemporary society in decline, examining large scale human disaster through personal turmoil (hence the title, taken from a university course called Gnosticism and Nihilism in Modern Fiction, influenced by Graham Greene novels. Bookish indie fans, look no further.)

Writing the album was intimate. Tom drafted the nucleus of a song on an unplugged electric guitar and brought it over to Evan’s apartment, where the pair sat in his bedroom, placing percussive beats from a drum machine under nascent melodies, passing a bass back and forth, adding organs and bridges where necessary. “It’s computer music trying extremely hard not to sound like computer music,” Tom jokes. Fearful that limited and expensive studio time would kneecap the project creatively, eroding their charming naivete, the pair re-recorded the album in a storage space owned by Evan’s boss. Ornamentation through collaboration followed: there’s Aaron Goldstein on Pedal Steel in the Go-Betweens’ “Cattle and Cane”-channeling interlude “Patience Wearing Thin,” Eliza Niemi on cello (“18 Cigarettes,” a song loosely inspired by a 1997 Oasis performance of “Don’t Go Away”), and backing harmonies from Carpark labelmates The Beths (on an ode to friendship at a distance, “How Lonely Are You?,” “Always There,” and on the sped-up Syd Barrett stylings of “Under The Rolling Moon.”) While in his native Australia due to covid-19, Evan worked closely with producer James Cecil (The Goon Sax, Architecture in Helsinki) on Modern Fiction’s finishing touches—at one point, in the mountains of the Macedon Ranges in Victoria, recorded a string quartet (featured on “Fit to Burst,” “Always There,” “Sullen Leering Hope,” “Twere Ever Thus,” “Grand Final Day.”)

It’s danceable, depressive fun, with some relief: in “Always There” and “Sullen Leering Hope,” Modern Fiction’s faithful heart. “There’s a tendency in my writing, because of my world view, to be very bleak.” Tom explains. “A quality I don’t always see in myself and really appreciate in others is the courage to go on.” And yet, the record manages resiliency—enough for pop fans to fall in love with.

Moondata’s little-known sole single, 1984’s decidedly Balearic, jazz-funk/boogie fusion gem ‘Let The Moonshine In’, is a very important record to the Rotation Sound System crew. It has become a familiar favourite at their annual Rotation Garden Party micro-festival and formed the centrepiece of their first compilation, summer 2025’s superb Everything You’re About To Hear Is True Volume 1. It’s increasingly rare these days for an artist from the 80s to still have their master tapes but even rarer still for them to have the multitrack tapes too. This is something of the holy grail when it comes to licensing old music so when it happens the opportunity to remix and create new versions needs to be grabbed with both hands.

The original record, a genuine rarity beloved of synth-loving crate-diggers, had an unusual gestation. Originally recorded in demo form by musician Jean-Marie Gogniat, it was turned into a finished single by a group of German musicians with a little help from lyricist and vocalist Joe Mwenda, and a crew of backing vocalists whose number included a locally based American singer – a pre-fame Jennifer Rush. Fittingly, the pre-vocal instrumental mix, which has sat unreleased since 1984, is included as a bonus track on the digital edition of this new remix package. The Rotation Sound System crew’s mixes, headed up by long-serving producer Dean Meredith, sprinkle 21st century magic across Gogniat’s one-off masterpiece while retaining core elements of the original and offering nods aplenty to club-focused sounds of the 1980s. They are, in effect, the versions the track deserved – but never got – back in the mid 1980s.

To begin, Meredith reunites with long-time production partner Andrew Meecham for the pair’s first remix as Chicken Lips in three years – a typically sparse and spaced-out ‘Malfunction Dub’ with delay-laden synths, vocals and guitar snippets sit over a sparse post-electro beat and bass guitar. Meredith then joins forces with fellow Rotation Sound System member Ben Shenton for takes under their two bestknown aliases. First, they don the T-Kutt guise for some dubbed out, funky bass guitar-propelled boogie-meets-proto house action that rocks out a killer, Clavinet-expanded groove while spinning in talkbox and backing vocals.

The pair then re-emerge as Mind Fair, famed for their releases on Golf Channel Recordings and their own Rogue Cat Sounds, and deliver a warmer, deeper and more organic-sounding take that’s as languid and tactile as it is warm and saucereyed. To round off the vinyl version of the EP, Rotation Sound System’s other core members – Rob J, Rich Hall and Stuart Robinson – don the now-familiar Wrekin Havoc guise and re-invent the track as a raw, analogue-rich shuffle through 1980s electro – all squelchy synth-bass, stabbing, cut-up vocal samples, chiming synth melodies and echoing beats. The expanded digital download edition of the EP contains a trio of additional bonus rubs. Alongside instrumental versions of the T-Kutt and Mind Fair mixes, we also get a full vocal T-Kutt rework that adds back in Joe Mwenda’s beautifully delivered verses. These additional DJ tools round off a beautifully rendered set of re-imaginations of a genuine cult classic. Gogniat, the man who started it all way back in the summer of 1984, certainly approves.

A sprawling, meditative journey into inner and outer space, the new double album from Ivan The Tolerable sees Oli Heffernan retreat fully into the solo realm - crafting an expansive sonic world that feels both intimate and cosmic in scope. Recorded entirely alone and released via Riot Season, this latest work drifts away from structured forms and toward something more fluid, exploratory, and transcendent.
Drawing on the devotional atmospheres of early ambient pioneers and the hypnotic pulse of kosmische music, the album unfolds as a series of slowly shifting soundscapes—analog synths breathing in long, patient waves, tape loops dissolving into shimmering drones, and melodies that seem to emerge from nowhere before gently receding again. There are echoes of ritual, of vast landscapes, of time stretching and folding in on itself.
Across its two discs, Heffernan embraces a deeply immersive approach—less concerned with destination than with the act of drifting itself. It’s music that invites stillness and surrender, equally suited to deep listening or quiet disconnection from the noise of the everyday.
Unbound by genre yet rooted in a rich lineage of experimental sound, this is Ivan The Tolerable at his most introspective and transportive - a double album that doesn’t just ask for your attention, but your presence.

Still compelled by the space they first opened, Gūsū returns with a second release, “Inhabiting Me”. What began as a shared approach, sprouted from intuition, has grown denser and more defined, holding on to that same fragility and openness. The duo continues to befriend with contrast, friction and proximity, shaping a language that inhabits their uncommon ground.

Vintage drum machines, tape delays and bass guitar widen the sonic ground, adding pulse, grain and instability, while the guzheng holds its place in full clarity. Each sound source becomes each other’s ornament, forming to gesture the next currents.

What emerges is less a fixed composition than a shifting form: precise in detail, impossible to contain. Listeners who have experienced Gūsū’s live performances will recognise this rare quality: a music of great sensitivity that expands with quiet force, drawing them inward rather than confronting them directly. The sound fades, re-enters, and leaves behind the trace of a lighthearted heaviness, echoing back in fragments, reappearing in memory with altered weight and colour.

Time bends inward and tones return altered. Between repetition and resonance, a tensile form begins to emerge. Neither nostalgic nor futuristic, neither static nor loose. Gūsū does not merge its materials into one smooth surface; it lets them stand close enough to sharpen one another.

Gūsū is a transcultural music project born from the confluence of two distinct artistic voices: Xueyan Chen and Nicolas Balmer. Together, they create a complex dialogue of sound that bridges the ancient and the modern, exploring the liminal spaces between tradition and experimentation. Gūsū’s inception was serendipitous, sparked by a shared stage in late 2022. What began as spontaneous improvisations has since evolved into a profound collaboration. The duo has performed under various monikers, finding their ultimate identity in the name Gūsū, a nod to both heritage and transformation.

Shot Caller present 1000 Lamentos, a promising debut without artifice.

Three different cultures and paths converge here for stripped-down songs, unvarnished, where every element feels immediately exposed, the simplicity as its best. There is neither easy nostalgia to lean on—only instinct, balance, and a sensitivity that cuts through the whole listen experience without raising its voice, echoing some of the label’s most defining releases and hinting at a strong path ahead.

The structures are simple, almost primitive. Bass guitar, and rhythm move with quiet urgency, leaving space for what truly lingers: a voice that doesn’t demand attention, yet stays with you. Fragile, intimate, and deeply enveloping—as if each line could break or reveal too much.

1000 Lamentos doesn’t aim for impact—it settles slowly, and refuses to leave. A debut that will leave its mark on the scene.

Full Dose welcome DJ Firehouse to the fold with a four-track suite that drifts deep into fogged-out space. Rooted in the lineage of late-2000s innovators, this is a record that leans into atmosphere as much as it does low-end pressure.

“Hamilton Hill” sets the tone with metallic percussion and submerged chords, locking into a hypnotic groove that feels equal parts system music and head music. “Gardening” follows with a blurred palette, combining rippling textures, tape hiss and a hypnotic vocal loop to pull you further inward. On “Starpol 666”, Firehouse eases off the pressure with a more abstract, interlude-like piece, where drifting mid-range pads and liquid movement hint at a more experimental edge. Closing track “Cross Fader” stretches things out into a dubbed, slow-burning finale. Breathy ambient layers give way to dembow-leaning drums, with thunderous hits and long-tailed echoes building a quiet but undeniable tension.

‘Warm Waves’ first appeared in 2020, ten years after Turn On The Sunlight’s debut self-titled album was first released in Japan. During that decade, Turn On The Sunlight’s Jesse Peterson and Mia Doi Todd welcomed their first child and co-founded a music venue in Los Angeles. When performance spaces were required to close at the start of the pandemic, Jesse’s focus shifted back towards home recording. Since ‘Warm Waves,’ five more Turn On The Sunlight albums have followed (including ‘Drives To The Beach,’ also on Tokonoma Records), all of which can be seen as an expansion of the musical direction set forth on this album.

The group heard on ‘Warm Waves’ consists of musicians who Mia and Jesse were regularly playing with at the time - Sam Gendel, Mitchell Brown, Andres Renteria & Gabe Noel - joined by Laraaji, Arji & Luis Pérez Ixoneztli, making their first recordings together.

The group’s blended signal was routed through Mitchell’s tape loops and modular synthesizer, which contributed to the unique communal sound of these recordings. Further extending this approach, Carlos Niño then reprocessed and reimagined ‘Passing Rain’ with Jamael Dean for his Elemental Beat Mix.

Originally released one week into the official lockdown period, some listeners found the warm, collective sound well-suited for the time of introspection and shifting priorities that followed. Now, in 2026, ‘Warm Waves’ returns on vinyl to once again encourage peaceful contemplation and open-hearted togetherness, in echo of the spirit of its creation.

Credits
Sam Gendel: Saxophone & Electronics on A1, A2, A3, B1, B2, B3
Laraaji: Voice & Zither on A3
Luis Pérez Ixoneztli: Bird Sounds on A1, Aerophones & Water Drums on B2
Mia Doi Todd: Voice on A1, A2, B2, B3; Piano on A3
Jesse Peterson: Guitar, Bass, Organ & Bird Sounds on A1; Organ on A2; Guitar & Bass on A3; Wooden Whistles, Guitar, Ukulele & Piano on B1; Ice Breaking on B3
Andres Renteria: Percussion on A1, A2, B1, B2, B3; Marimba & Percussion on A3
Mitchell Brown: Synthesizers & Magnetic Tape on A1, A2, A3, B2, B4
Gabe Noel: Bass on A2, A3, B1
Arji: Bells & Shells on A3
Carlos Niño: Production / Remix on B4
Jamael Dean: Additional Keyboards on B4

Produced, mixed & recorded by Jesse Peterson
Except B4, produced by Carlos Niño

‘Warm Waves’ first appeared in 2020, ten years after Turn On The Sunlight’s debut self-titled album was first released in Japan. During that decade, Turn On The Sunlight’s Jesse Peterson and Mia Doi Todd welcomed their first child and co-founded a music venue in Los Angeles. When performance spaces were required to close at the start of the pandemic, Jesse’s focus shifted back towards home recording. Since ‘Warm Waves,’ five more Turn On The Sunlight albums have followed (including ‘Drives To The Beach,’ also on Tokonoma Records), all of which can be seen as an expansion of the musical direction set forth on this album.

The group heard on ‘Warm Waves’ consists of musicians who Mia and Jesse were regularly playing with at the time - Sam Gendel, Mitchell Brown, Andres Renteria & Gabe Noel - joined by Laraaji, Arji & Luis Pérez Ixoneztli, making their first recordings together.

The group’s blended signal was routed through Mitchell’s tape loops and modular synthesizer, which contributed to the unique communal sound of these recordings. Further extending this approach, Carlos Niño then reprocessed and reimagined ‘Passing Rain’ with Jamael Dean for his Elemental Beat Mix.

Originally released one week into the official lockdown period, some listeners found the warm, collective sound well-suited for the time of introspection and shifting priorities that followed. Now, in 2026, ‘Warm Waves’ returns on vinyl to once again encourage peaceful contemplation and open-hearted togetherness, in echo of the spirit of its creation.

Credits
Sam Gendel: Saxophone & Electronics on A1, A2, A3, B1, B2, B3
Laraaji: Voice & Zither on A3
Luis Pérez Ixoneztli: Bird Sounds on A1, Aerophones & Water Drums on B2
Mia Doi Todd: Voice on A1, A2, B2, B3; Piano on A3
Jesse Peterson: Guitar, Bass, Organ & Bird Sounds on A1; Organ on A2; Guitar & Bass on A3; Wooden Whistles, Guitar, Ukulele & Piano on B1; Ice Breaking on B3
Andres Renteria: Percussion on A1, A2, B1, B2, B3; Marimba & Percussion on A3
Mitchell Brown: Synthesizers & Magnetic Tape on A1, A2, A3, B2, B4
Gabe Noel: Bass on A2, A3, B1
Arji: Bells & Shells on A3
Carlos Niño: Production / Remix on B4
Jamael Dean: Additional Keyboards on B4

Produced, mixed & recorded by Jesse Peterson
Except B4, produced by Carlos Niño

There is a particular kind of strangeness that arrives on long drives across Europe. Flat light, service stations and fields stretching endlessly past the window. It might look mundane at first glance, but becomes faintly surreal when the tiredness of touring blurs the edges of everything.

That feeling became the quiet engine behind Driving Through Belgium, the debut solo album from Anton Pearson, best known as one of the guitarists in respected post-punk outfit Squid. The title grew from a track that felt like the record’s centrepiece, which itself came from the recurring image of extensive periods on the road across the continent. It is a record shaped in the margins of touring, and finessed in the in-between hours.

Across six pieces, Pearson leans into atmosphere, texture and space. It is ambient in spirit, adjacent to contemporary classical in feeling, but composed less with notes in mind than with sound itself. The compositions rarely began with harmony or melody, with Pearson instead responding to his environment and sounds in real time, placing trust in his instinct.

Although initial inspiration came from the road, the album was recorded in a studio he shares in Brighton, and marks his first fully solo project made in that setting. It gave him access to not only new tools and techniques, but a hitherto un-experienced freedom. Much of the process began experimentally, feeding instruments into unfamiliar chains, pitching loops into unexpected registers and playing with previously unused synthesizers simply to see what they might reveal. Many of the sounds were created out of pure curiosity, wanting to understand a piece of equipment or technology, and then following wherever it led.

The album was built with this experimentation at its core, as Pearson would layer then extract, processing stacks of sound until things blur and confuse. Guitars dissolve into drones, a Pianet Clavinet dances against muddier textures whilst a Korg PS-1000 occasionally cuts through with its glittering top end. On ‘Driving Past the Muscular Cows in Belgium’, a flat, still drone is pushed through valve amps until it growls and tightens with tension, before receding again. Even the trumpet, which Pearson freely admits he is not technically proficient at, is embraced in its naivety, its squeaks left intact rather than corrected. The twin ‘Tintinnabulation’ pieces frame the record with looping, pitched bell like tones, accidental discoveries that became structural anchors. Meanwhile, ‘Teeth to Cut the Grass’ deliberately introduces abrasion, some of the harshest textures on the record, a refusal to become passive background music.


That embrace of imperfection is central. In contrast to the hyper-analytical precision of his band, Pearson was keen to honour first takes. If something felt good, it would stay. The end result is an album that favours looseness, instinct and the energy of creation itself. If Squid thrives on propulsion and tension, Anton Pearson finds his energy in suspension on Driving Through Belgium. It is curious rather than declarative, creating a space where experimentation feels playful again.

If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.

Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.

With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.

Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).

The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)

Following the celebrated reissue of Classics Vol. 1, Metroplex unveils Model 500 - Classics Vol. 2, a powerful new collection of essential works from Juan Atkins--pioneer of Techno and architect of some of the most forward-thinking electronic music ever recorded. Bringing together key cuts, rare mixes, and long-sought favorites from across Atkins' groundbreaking output, this compilation highlights the full spectrum of his sonic universe: deep, rolling machine funk, shimmering electro-techno hybrids, and timeless futurist grooves that helped shape generations of electronic artists. Each track has been carefully remastered to enhance its original energy while preserving the raw spirit and space that define the Model 500 sound. From expansive, atmospheric journeys to soulful vocal transmissions and Detroit-powered rhythmic science, Classics Vol. 2 presents Juan Atkins at his most inspired--an essential document of a visionary whose influence continues to echo across dancefloors worldwide. Three decades on, these tracks have lost none of their immediacy, imagination, or futuristic pull. Restored for a new era, Classics Vol. 2 celebrates the legacy of Model 500 with pristine sound and renewed force. Pure Detroit heritage. Eternal future music.

Following their 2023 LP Presents, Nathan Nelson's American Cream Band bring the Twin City heat back to Quindi with an album rooted in duality. From the yin and yang party-starting A side and meditative B side to the dual-attack boy-girl vocals, the nature of opposites and equals steer the expansive, artful strain of rock n' roll that spill out of this wholly unique Minnesotan export. For the ever intriguing Quindi, it's a strident step into Spring after the frosty introspection of Roudi Vagou & Läuten der Seele's Taghelle Nacht. While the world burns and injustice prevails, Twin is a celebration of unity and radical expression-all the more urgent against the backdrop of authoritarian overreach and righteous protest that has whipped through Minneapolis in recent times.
Twin continues Nelson's drive at the helm of American Cream Band to draw in a colourful cast of players to feed into his orgiastic sound, meshing the trance-induction of krautrock with the irrepressible funk of the post-punk-new-wave explosion. But principal among the cast of characters and forming a central tenet to the identity of this album is Liz Buhmann, lead vocalist and a formidable, playful foil to Nelson's own Midwestern twang. Around the electric spark between Buhmann and Nelson, a heavy duty ensemble wrangle guitar, bass, sax, a cornucopia of synths and a battery of percussion into all manner of sonic forms.
The double-sided concept manifests throughout Twin. On 'Call Me' Buhmann sings in French to contrast Nelson's English, while the strident strut of the NYC disco groove is offset by an inherent dreaminess that turns the track into a more cosmic kind of dancefloor workout. 'Ethical Vampire' is a spiky cut with a garage rock patina that spirals into a psychedelic, synth-soaked get-down. 'Don't Burn The House Down' is a loose and limber roller that captures Can at their funkiest along with the hypnotic vibe of other such esteemed long format jammers, but American Cream Band boils that energy into a hook-laden art pop sensibility before a gentle, drawn out landing.
Even the more pensive moments on Twin find space for friction. For all its tender, smoky temperament, 'Leda and the Swan' lets the electric piano and guitar fray at the edges and bleed into the red while Mat Heinrich's tumbling drums lurch with pent-up intensity on the one. 'No Funeral Necessary' skirts around the mellow pools of new age but prefers to let liberally doused Tape Echo tweak out Alex Meffert's honeyed sax inflections and Buhmann and Nelson's disparate sermons.
Nelson describes Twin as "an oppositorum coincidentia" - a reference to the mystical Latin concept of the coincidence of opposites that suggests contradictory ideas 'fall together' in a higher reality. Beyond the sound of the album, this idea also manifests in the cover photography by Sho Nikado and the swans on the LP labels by Autumn Garrington. As freewheeling and wide-open as American Cream Band feels, nothing appears by accident. The end result feels like a nourishing whole - rich with substance and nuance, deep enough to be explored and absorbed yet also so brazen and immediate you can't help but feel its surface charms from the first thrusts of 'The Hive Is Pissed' to the last ripples of 'We're Not So Sinister'.

Scissor and Thread presents Tailored Cuts, Vol. 06, a four-track selection that accompanies the digital compilation album. All four tracks appear on vinyl for the first time. Opening the A-side is a brand new and exclusive dub mix of Soela & Module One’s Drowning, reworked by Matthias Reiling (one half of Session Victim). Originally taken from Soela’s Dark Portrait album, the track is reshaped here into a spacious and hypnotic dub that emphasizes texture, atmosphere and patient groove. "I have been a fan of both Soela's and Module One's music for quite a while now," says Reiling, "so getting the chance to remix their collaboration from Soela's beautiful Dark Portrait album is a huge honor. I tried to keep the elegant and somewhat tender synth work close to it's original spirit and combine it with simple drumkit samples, acoustic guitar, electric bass and a dash of space echo. The process put me in a slightly eerie, yet romantic mood, which, so I hope, translates a little when listening to the result."
Also on the A-side, Black Light Smoke’s Love Triangle appears in ZG’s remix, a lush and understated reimagining that balances warmth with rhythmic precision. On the B-side, Hidden Spheres remix of Francis Harris’ Earth Moves feat. Eliana Glass appears alongside DaRand Land’s Passion Motion from his album Wander Being, "a more upbeat ride, with melodic overtones that drive the “passion”. Personally, it’s my interpretation of some of the sounds from mid-90’s Chicago." says DaRand Land.

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

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

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

The Flaming Sideburns' debut album remastered 25th anniversary edition out in June via Svart Records In the beginning of the new Millennium, The Flaming Sideburns were getting ready to record our first proper album. First we rented Ismo Alanko’s old rehearsal room in Otaniemi, Espoo, and turned it into a recording facility. Old analog tape recorders, vintage microphones, a Space Echo unit, and other top equipment were brought in directly from Berlin, Germany by the album’s producer, Jürgen Hendlmeier. As producer Jürgen Hendlmeier recalls the final steps of the sessions: “Fact is, when we mastered the record at Seawolf Studios we had no real idea what to do with this equipment. We just wanted to make it louder and louder – that was all we wanted. We wanted to go to twelve instead of eleven.” When Hallelujah Rock’n’Rollah was first released, it did not sound as “natural” as it had originally been planned to be – but the album was a huge success for the band nevertheless. For this remastered edition, Hendlmeier dug deep enough to finally find the files containing all the original mixes. The album’s producer then remastered the album himself, and the end result is far more convincing. Compared to the original version—which is already very good—the album now feels as if it has been completely remixed for the better. As a bonus, on the original album some of the songs were edited shorter, but now all of them appear in their original length. -Eduardo Martinez

The Flaming Sideburns' debut album remastered 25th anniversary edition out in June via Svart Records In the beginning of the new Millennium, The Flaming Sideburns were getting ready to record our first proper album. First we rented Ismo Alanko’s old rehearsal room in Otaniemi, Espoo, and turned it into a recording facility. Old analog tape recorders, vintage microphones, a Space Echo unit, and other top equipment were brought in directly from Berlin, Germany by the album’s producer, Jürgen Hendlmeier. As producer Jürgen Hendlmeier recalls the final steps of the sessions: “Fact is, when we mastered the record at Seawolf Studios we had no real idea what to do with this equipment. We just wanted to make it louder and louder – that was all we wanted. We wanted to go to twelve instead of eleven.” When Hallelujah Rock’n’Rollah was first released, it did not sound as “natural” as it had originally been planned to be – but the album was a huge success for the band nevertheless. For this remastered edition, Hendlmeier dug deep enough to finally find the files containing all the original mixes. The album’s producer then remastered the album himself, and the end result is far more convincing. Compared to the original version—which is already very good—the album now feels as if it has been completely remixed for the better. As a bonus, on the original album some of the songs were edited shorter, but now all of them appear in their original length. -Eduardo Martinez

On his new album, Micha Acher rearranged compositions for bands such as Tied & Tickled Trio and Ms. John Soda from previous years.

Why are we interested in ghosts? What fascinates us about the eerie? According to cultural theorist Mark Fisher, the allure that the eerie possesses is not captured by the idea that we „enjoy what scares us“. It has, rather, to do with a fascination for the outside. For that which lies beyond standard perception, cognition or experience, as he writes in his book „The Weird and the Eerie“.

In fact, also none of the 15 pieces from Henry and the Ghost is really scary. On the contrary, they all feel strangely familiar. Like revenants or doppelgängers, which in fact they are. They have all been released before. But in a different form. In different line-ups. With different band projects such as Tied & Tickled Trio, The Notwist or the Alien Ensemble.

With the „Songbook“, Micha Acher's aim was, as he says, to find out how the familiar pieces sound in a chamber music instrumentation. Therefore he met with Theresa Loibl (bass clarinet, piano), Timm Kornelius (bassoon), Markus Rom (guitar, banjo, electronics) and Simon Popp (drums, percussion) in his living room for a musical séance in the summer of 2022. The séance lasted two days. Afterwards, Markus Rom (Oh No Noh), added some haunting electronical ideas.

The mood of most of the pieces is melancholic. There are surprising twists and siren-like melodies. Just as ghost stories should be. However, most of the songs sound very light-footed. With their feet in pop, folk, jazz and classical music. Pieces such as „Johanna“ with its wheezing harmonium and spooky piano, or the dreamy „Modest Farewell“ on the other hand have a cinematic flair. Immediately faces and scenes arise in the mind. But at the beginning, there is „Hamlet“. It starts with ghostly electronics and merges into a calm, almost classical guitar piece. Could it be that the ghost of Hamlet's father is hiding between the strings?

„34E“ begins with a banjo. Then the deep humming of Micha Achers sousaphone and the other brass instruments kick in. In the slow, solemn „Aelita“, the sousaphone starts a dialogue with a children's piano. With the banjo and the other wind instruments acting as mediators. The title of „All Tomorrow's Past“ brings Velvet Undergrounds „All Tomorrow's Parties“ to mind. Another ghost from the past. What connects the two pieces is free-floating percussion, which accompanies the sumptuous melodies.

„Arc“ takes us on an exhilarating voyage at sea, with the sousaphone providing powerful propulsion. Towards the end, things get quite turbulent. With the clarinet stirring up the water, before the sea calms down again. „Henry and the Ghost“ is characterised by a ghostly mood change between major and minor. In „Radio Four“ the banjo with its stoic chords keeps the lively brass section in check. „Solid Ground“ is imbued with melancholy. „Space Minor“ takes us into outer space, with the power of sousaphone and percussion.

„Tomorrows“ is filled with cautious optimism. And the concluding „Nordlead“ turns out to be a revenant of the instrumental „N.L.“ from The Notwist's legendary album „Shrink“ from 1998. In the new version, the piece sounds like a distant echo. One that also brings to mind how Micha Acher's music has evolved. Which new worlds he explored and opened up since the nineties. And yet Acher's signature is recognisable in every single note of this fascinating „Songbook“.

As the so-called “Latin boom” becomes a new anchor for hard-swung club sounds, it is crucial to recognize that the region’s musical culture extends far beyond dembow edits and the pop-trap hybrids that have edged into the mainstream. Monterrey-born, New York City-based producer and DJ Delia Beatriz, aka Debit, returns to NAAFI with Potpourri, a generous and kinetic collection of dancefloor-oriented tracks filled with percussive flourishes, squelching 303 basslines, and rhythmic mutations that actively challenge the status quo. Rather than rebuilding “Latin sounds” as a fixed category, the album rethinks their internal logic, tracing the evolution of techno and house in cities like Detroit, Chicago, and New York alongside parallel innovations emerging in Mexico, Colombia, and across the wider Latin world. Positioned on the bridge between Mexico and the US, Potpourri does not seek synthesis as a gesture of smooth fusion, but as a site of disruption.

The album can be heard as a loose follow-up to System (2018), Debit’s NAAFI-released EP that expanded the sonic potential of tribal guarachero through triplet-driven rhythms, industrial pressure, and noisy reconstruction. Potpourri retains guaracha as a structural backbone while drawing further influence from veteran DJ and producer Javier Estrada—who also appeared on System—and particularly from his fast-paced, nonlinear style of mixing. That approach becomes a formal principle here: canonical structures are dismantled, repetition is avoided, and tracks evolve without sacrificing propulsion. Coming after the introspective temporal inquiry of Desaceleradas and the speculative historical acoustics of The Long Count, Potpourri arrives as a deliberate surge of energy. As Beatriz explains: “It’s a manifesto for rethinking form and sound in dance music. By stepping outside traditional structures and embracing the potpourri approach, I’m creating new meaning with familiar rhythms. I’ve also been applying this to my DJ sets, using it as a tool to break free from established norms and explore new narrative possibilities.”

Years in the making, Potpourri imagines an alternate timeline in which the psychedelic squelch of acid—echoing pioneers such as DJ Pierre and Mr. Fingers—and the dub-inflected atmospheres of Basic Channel entered into direct and sustained contact with Latin American club mutations. Those references are legible, but never merely quoted. Instead, they are folded into syncopated hi-hats, overdriven kicks, and unstable arrangements that absorb both the intensity of the parties Beatriz remembers from Monterrey and the abrasive edge she sharpened at DIY noise shows in New England. The result is unmistakably a dancefloor record—heard in tracks as forceful as “Pero like” and the peak-time pressure of “tuvesuerte”—but one saturated with grotesque, psychedelic atmospheres, where sounds dissolve into hoarse croaks, acidic smears, and anxiety-inducing growls. Here, the rave becomes not simply a site of release, but a platform for navigating identity, hybridity, and artistic formation across borders. Moving through peaks and ruptures, Potpourri reveals a party narrative that is not linear but multidimensional.

By folding together the fluidity of DJ culture, the experimental charge of acid, and the rhythmic vitality of guaracha, Potpourri proposes a space of formal and political innovation within Latin America’s rapidly expanding electronic music landscape. It is a record that refuses containment, pushing against the templates through which Latin electronic music is often consumed, and insisting instead on friction, instability, and transformation as generative conditions for the dancefloor.