Buscar:spaces

Experience the long-awaited reissue of „The Guardian Of Forever“ the cult album from spacesynth pioneers Laserdance!

Originally released in 1995, this masterpiece proves once again why Laserdance remains one of the most influential acts in the genre. These tracks transport listeners to another dimension – with epic synth melodies and that unmistakable, spacey touch that made Laserdance legendary.

Let the iconic sounds of Laserdance take you on a journey through the endless cosmos!

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

»Even The Horizon Knows Its Bounds« explores sound’s relationship with architecture, inspired by the Naala Badu building at the Art Gallery of NSW. Created from sound prompts responded to by artists like Jim O’Rourke and claire rousay, the work reflects on space, collaboration, and the fluid nature of sonic environments.

I like to think that sound haunts architecture.

It’s one of the truly magical interactions afforded by sound’s immateriality. It’s also something that has captivated us from the earliest times. It’s not difficult to imagine the exhilaration of our early ancestors calling to one another in the dark cathedral like caves which held wonder, and security, for them.

Today the ways in which sound occupies space, the so-called liquid architecture, holds just as much wonder, albeit one that is often dominated by functionality and form. Beyond those constraints however, how sound operates in the material world is something that exists at the fundament of our understanding of music, and moreover within the broad church we know as the canon of sound arts.

Even The Horizon Knows Its Bounds is a record born out of these relations. In a direct sense, the record is the product of an invitation by curator Jonathan Wilson to create a sound environment, reflecting on the Naala Badu building at the Art Gallery Of NSW. The building’s name, which translates from the Gadigal language to ‘seeing water’, was opened in 2022 and this piece was offered as an atmospheric tint to visitors walking through the building throughout the year following its opening.

It’s also a record born out of a recognition for the porousness sound affords, especially as a device for collaborative endeavour. This composition is one born out of generosity and acoustic solidarity. Even The Horizon Knows Its Bounds is comprised not just of my sounds, but also that of an incredible array of artists who have also operated in the orbit of the Art Gallery Of NSW. The players include Amby Downs, Chris Abrahams, Chuck Johnson, Claire Rousay, Dean Hurley, Jim O’Rourke, JW Paton, Madeleine Cocolas, Norman Westberg, Stephen Vitiello and Vanessa Tomlinson.

The piece was constructed around two long form sound prompts that each musician responded and contributed to. These materials there when digested into the final piece you hear. The work could not exist without the substantial offerings these artists made, and I am immensely grateful to each of them.

I’ll finish with a little note that appears on the LP itself.

Place is an evolving, subjective experience of space. Spaces hold the opportunity for place, which we create moment to moment, shaped by our ways of sense-making.

Whilst the architectural and material features of space might remain somewhat constant, the people, objects, atmospheres, and encounters that fill them are forever collapsing into memory.

Lawrence English
Performed by Amby Downs, Chris Abrahams, Chuck Johnson, Claire Rousay, Dean Hurley, Jim O’Rourke, JW Paton, Madeleine Cocolas, Norman Westberg, Stephen Vitiello, Vanessa Tomlinson

Ramu Records presents their third release – ‘S Gytis - Aš Čia’ (translated as ‘I Am Here’). It’s a full-length double vinyl album, which is S Gytis’ second release. The sound of Gytis’ creation evolves alongside his life. Having swapped city noise for a rural setting, he began exploring new directions and this time settled on acoustic instruments. The deep experimental sound is infused with freshness and vitality. The entire album spans diverse spaces and emotions. Each track tells a unique story – a story about feelings or the spaces that Gytis wants to introduce us to.

Toy Tonics Music Berlin presents "Para Mytho Disco". The 2nd "Kapote" album of label founder and creative director Mathias Modica.
Keyboarder, DJ, producer, music nerd, graphic designer, multi-instrumentalist, sub-culture impressario and artist (formerly known as Munk of Gomma records.)

Kapote & Toy Tonics
In the last years Kapote was in the spotlight mainly for building the Toy Tonics label with his friends. Developing a platform for new positive quality dance music with a human touch. Toy Tonics is the opposite of the dark, druggy Techno and Trance sounds of the last years.
The warm inclusive music of Toy Tonics represents a new vibe that a young generation of diverse, stylish and culturally intersted generation of dancers loves now. Kapote's Toy Tonics became the key label for that vibe. (In 2024 Toy Tonics made 150 Toy Tonics events in 18 countries. With more than 150.000 people dancing. 90 millions streams on their music.)
Toy Tonics is more than a music label: It's a audio - visual universe. A community, almost a movement.
Based on a new positive attitude and aesthetic diversity. Mixing musicianship with DJ culture, analogue music with electronic, ideas from the past with sounds from now. To create something new. Connecting dance music with graphic design, art and underground fashion.
Kapote and his gang release vinyl, posters, shirts, art fanzines and make exhibitions and partys.

Toy Tonics started in Berlin as a underground niche project. But now became the key label of the new house, wild style disco and organic dance music scene.
Probably one of Berlin's biggest electronic music phenomena along with Keinemusik and Live from Earth.

It went fast: 2020 Kapote's crew started to make small parties in Berlin's off spaces. The "Toy Tonics Jams". The parties became "talk of the town", and Berlin clubs like Griesmühle and Panorama Bar invited the crew. Then international clubs and festival called. Toy Tonics were invited to SONAR (playing the mainstage with Kaytranada and DJ Tennis), KALA festival, Montreux Jazz festival.
Now TT has a residency at Panorama Bar Berlin and sold out events in Europe leading clubs like Phonox in London, Rex Club in Paris, Tunnel in Milan.
Toy Tonics now is the reference brand of a new generation of music loving dancers. Similar to Gomma records, Kapote's former label (2003 - 2015) that was one of the key labels of the "indie dance" scene of the Y2K years (along with DFA and Output Records).

Kapote created a multi-cultural movement with graphic designers, photographers, illustrators from the Berlin scene.
They publish the Toy Tonics Pocket Poster magazine, posters and design shirts. They organize the Toy Tonics Pop Up Galleries mixing music and art. In underground venues in Berlin and in new gallery spaces and museums around Europe.
Toy Tonics has been invited by Palais de Tokio museum in Paris, Triennale Museum Berlin, Design week Milano to create events.
The new Kapote album
The 12 tracks have a very own style. Based on dance music, but going much further. "Para Mytho Disco' is a futuristic mix of sounds. It's far away from the dark monotone techno and trance music from Kapote's hometown Berlin. Instead, he creates warm friendly atmospheres full of sonic colours and little musical surprises.
Kapote's knowlege of music history and his backround as a jazz piano student and son of classic music composer is clearly inside this music. Before turning into a DJ and electronic music producer he has been playing in bands since he was 13 years old.
The album is full of emotional chord progressions played by Kapote on various keyboards. Sometimes reminding music from the past, without being retro at all. The basslines and melodies are inspired by jazz fusion from the 1970ies. And he programmed syncopated grooves that come from afro-american dance music. There are influences from Japanese electronic music (Yellow Magic Orchestra), from 1980s Synthwave and from 1990s electronica (like Squarepusher and Luke Vibert).

Kapote plays keys, bass, flutes and percussions, he plays synth solos and sings on a few tracks. The complexity of the arrangements makes this music never boring. Lot of melodies and solos that catch the listener. Colourful soundscapes that make you want to listen or dance to this album more, and discover details also after you heard it several times.

Kapote background

Before starting Toy Tonics, Kapote used to run a label called Gomma. He produced four albums under the name Munk and music for other artists.
He produced music with Peaches, Franz Ferdinand founder Nick McCarthy, with New York street art legend The Rammellzee, Italian actress Asia Argento, the first three albums of WhoMadeWho and worked with LCD Soundsystem (listen to "Kick out the chairs", the Munk song with James Murphy )
In those "Gomma days" Kapote aka Munk was also one of the main DJs for VICE magazine parties and made music for art projects and fashion brands (Margiela, Prada, Colette).
In 2015 he stopped Munk and Gomma and started Toy Tonics. He found young producers and helped to develop their sound (Coeo, Cody Currie, Gee Lane, Barbara Boeing, Sam Ruffillo). Later he founded the sublabel Kryptox to release music by Berlin based bands that make new forms of jazz or neo classical sounds.

Under the name Kapote Mathias didnt release much:
Only his Kapote debut album "What it is" (2019) and an EP called "Electric Slide" (2022) and a collabo EP with Italian producer Sam Ruffillo ("Robot Salsa").

An although his Munk and Kapote music was an underground phenomena his music has always been a favourite of many great people from the scene.
Supported by DJs like Harvey, Chromeo, Moodymann, Jennifer Cardini, Gerd Janson, MYD, Andrew Weatherall to Blessed Madonna, Justice and Laurent Garnier… to name just a few.

As a founding member of Dublin experimental folk group Lankum, Ian Lynch explores submerged leylines of music and song. Forging a musical path that is all at once dark, mysterious and foreboding, but ultimately transcendental. His new solo project One Leg One Eye sees him taking a fresh approach to musical arrangement culminating in a sound that is more rooted in the raw aesthetics of second wave black metal than contemporary folk. The project was born across 2021, a period in which Lynch was able to enjoy the freedom of experimenting and exploring different paths of sound design without expectation or pressure. Seeking out interesting settings to record music and gather field recordings, there are several environments, external and interior, whose respective essence have seeped into the spirit of the music and come to represent Lynch’s artistic approach and development with this singular debut album, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Rediscovered spaces in Dublin and the familiar enclave of his bedroom are intrinsic to the distinct and sometimes harrowing atmosphere conjured throughout the album’s five enveloping compositions. One particular location, an abandoned factory where his father worked when Ian was a child, provided a space of great inspiration and intrigue during this time. Lynch frequently visited the large abandoned warehouse and sang with his shruti box, contented in his solitude. ‘I’d Rather Be Tending My Sheep’, grew into existence from those initial sessions, eventually finding a home as an emotive centrepiece to the album. Reflecting on the overall recording of …And Take The Black Worm With Me, Lynch says, “Everything I was doing with these songs was all kind of new to me; experimenting with different sounds, textures and palettes and seeing what I could come up with by piecing it all together. I spent about a year making the album. I loved the whole process because it was basically just me in my bedroom recording everything. The experience of recording like this and having my own time to do it was amazing. I could focus on recording a specific element and happily spend all day working on that one part, doing it as many times as I wanted. At the end of the day if it didn’t feel right, I could just try it again the next day. When you’re on your own you can spend as much time as you want on particular parts until you feel that it’s absolutely perfect. I found that to be a really liberating experience. It was probably my favourite experience recording music.” The collection of songs (and their chronology) featured on …And Take The Black Worm With Me tell a story unique to Lynch’s experiences with anxiety and recognising his shadow self. Whilst the album became an outlet of personal expression for Lynch, the overarching themes and subsequent journey to confront one’s internal dichotomy of light and dark before accepting this inherent duality is universally shared. The eerie and often unsettling world contained within the album’s texturally dense opener ‘Glistening, She Emerges’, driven by the captivating drone of distorted uilleann pipes, immediately immerses the listener in this transportive work. It descends with a great heaviness, yet woven throughout the arrangement is a fascinating and indescribable entity that draws you further into this otherworldly dimension. This mood continues as the tracklist progresses and transitions into Lynch’s haunting realisation of ‘Bold and Undaunted Youth’ which further demonstrates a cinematic influence to Lynch’s compositional style. Sonically, Lynch effectively builds an impressively vast terrain with brilliantly murky lo-fi recording techniques and an unshakable curiosity to move beyond conventional structures and play with the timbre of the instruments available to him. From recording hurdy-gurdy or concertina to tape and experimenting with loops and effects pedals to stitching field recordings together, there’s an intimacy established between Lynch and his audience established through the simultaneously eerie and beautiful tones courting through …And Take The Black Worm With Me. This culminates in ‘Only the Diceys’, the extraordinary closing track in which we reach a place of resolution mapped into the album’s narrative structure. Mixed by longtime collaborator John ‘Spud’ Murphy in his Dublin-based Guerrilla Sounds Studio and mastered by Harvey Birrell …And Take The Black Worm With Me features contributions from Ruth Clinton (Landless) on church organ and vocals by Laurie Shanaman (Ails, Ludicra). Of Shanaman’s participation, in particular, which further illustrates the lo-fi and DIY ethos to the recording, Lynch says, “Laurie is my favourite black metal vocalist of all time and so I reached out to her hoping to have her involved in some way. She did, and she features on the opening track by providing some incredible screams. She recorded them into her phone and sent them over to me; what appears on the album is literally a phone recording of her screaming in her kitchen!” …And Take The Black Worm With Me continues Ian Lynch’s groundbreaking work with Lankum; recontextualising traditional forms and generating new spheres of music in his wake, confirming his status as one of the most interesting and innovative artists working in Ireland today.

180g black vinyl - limited to 200 numbered copies.

"What is my heart now"is the debut solo album by Ziemowit Klimek, known so far from bands such as Immortal Onion, Hania Rani, and Magda Kuraś Quintet. It is a cycle of five improvised compositions – "What," "Is," "My," "Heart," and "Now" – unified by a unique artistic concept, with each piece created in collaboration with a different musician.

The creative process for each of the five duets began with a conversation between Ziemowit, the guest artist, and the video team. Deconstructing the title word into its fundamental elements through questions like "What does 'What' mean? What emotions and associations does this word evoke in us? How can we capture its essence in sound and image?" became the starting point for artistic exploration.

To preserve the authenticity of the material as much as possible, both sound and image were recorded live, with no cuts or post-production editing. Equally important was the choice of spaces that corresponded to the meaning of each title word. Instead of sterile studios, the recordings took place in a variety of unique locations – "Heart" was captured in Ziemowit's most personal space, his bedroom, while "Now" was recorded inside a car during a dynamic drive, where the physical forces acting on the musicians significantly influenced their decisions while playing.

The album resonates with dialogue – not only musical but also emotional and intellectual. It is a meeting of individualities who, for Ziemowit, are not only inspirations as artists but also significant people in his life."What is my heart now"is an album about defining one's identity and capturing the moment, created in an atmosphere of honesty and trust. Ultimately, the question arises: is it even possible to definitively answer the question posed in the album's title?

"What Is My Heart Now"

Ziemowit Klimek (Double bass, Bass, Piano, Moog)

feat.

Krzysztof Hadrych - Guitar

Michał Jan Ciesielski - Saxophon, Volca

Hania Rani - Piano

Mikołaj Kostka - Violin

Jacek Prościński - Drums

Who is Beatrice? Who is Melissa? Could they be one and the same?

This is the question at the heart of Secret, the duo’s debut album—or at least, that’s what the music seems to suggest. If sound is an extension of ourselves, it can also become a character we shape. The main character of Secret isn’t visible to the human eye, and yet they give off an androgynous and timeless energy, rooted in multiple languages and spaces. As the album unfolds, we sense the fusion of two distinct energies combined into a single, composite being. This constantly shifting, blurred identity comes to life in the album’s profusion of genres: club music, ambient, chanson, trip-hop, UK garage, and tech house. The tracks stretch and contract, following the trajectory of a dual voice.

Behind Secret lies a mélange of perspectives. Beatrice M., a Franco-British artist at the head of the label Bait, curates an innovative blend of syncopated UK club styles (mostly dubstep) and trancy techno grooves. Melissa Weikart, a French-American songwriter trained in classical piano with a deep passion for jazz, makes intimate avant-pop songs that embody her unique, hybrid approach to music-making. The diverse musical collaborations in Secret reinforce a dynamic that is central to both of their artistic journeys from the start, and these collaborations melt seamlessly into the album’s overall aesthetic. Despite a confluence of influences, the implied development of this obscure, extraterrestrial main character grounds us in a refreshing coherence. Secret is rich in variety and style, but above all, it diffuses a calm and serene atmosphere. Even when the BPM speeds up, we are carried along, suspended in Beatrice Melissa’s uncanny world.

“A tribute to his mercurial, mischievous spirit and pioneering sonic approach” - Uncut 8/10



“Beautifully revisiting 70s styles, each track rides the kind of killer dub basslines Youth started brandishing with Killing Joke 45 years ago when he and Jah Wobble were the UK's heaviest four-string behemoths, cutting their teeth on the subsonic thunder unleashed by Perry on the earliest dub albums” - Record Collector 5/5



“The late dub king's work with Killing Joke bassist Youth has A-team back-up. Sublime” - Daily Mirror



“Heady flashbacks to the mid-70s Black Ark sound” - Mojo/Top 50 albums of 2024

Mesmeric, confessional alt-folk with hints of americana - weaving beautiful stories with deep and poignant lyricism and relatable storytelling, creating a sense of familiarity even in the ambiguous, leaving no choice but to feel everything with her. Mann’s debut album,

- Clara Mann’s evocative debut album Rift navigates the fractured environment of the in-between—those liminal spaces exposed between light and dark, growth and remorse, loss and reclamation. It is a record that makes a strong case for hope, those luminescent silver linings in the dark. With Rift, Clara Mann acknowledges the cracks through which both despair and hope can seep. It is a deeply personal record, yet it is universally resonant, holding the mirror up to herself and to the world around her. It is a record that reflects on embracing our fault lines, navigating the ruptures that can erupt from them and moving forwards, in motion, with a renewed sense of self and aliveness. Mann’s debut album, Rift is all of her—her past, her present, her emotions, her experiences—and now, it is for you.

- Influenced by artists like Jacques Brel, Edith Piaf, Judee Sill, and Tom Waits, Mann has a deep love and care for songwriting

- The album was primarily recorded at the 4AD Studios in London, produced and mixed by Fabian Prynn (Martha Skye Murphy, Ex:Re, Fabiana Palladino) who carefully facilitated an imaginative space for Mann to express the playful, strange and real parts of herself

- She has previously toured and collaborated with the likes of Daniel Rossen (Grizzly Bear), Billie Marten, Skullcrusher, Bill Ryder-Jones, Youth Lagoon and Willie J Healey

2024 Backstock

15-track double album black vinyl 2-LP including the singles Through The Wire, All Falls Down and Slow Jamz. With jaw-dropping cameos from Jay-Z, Common, Mos Def, John Legend, and the Harlem Boys Choir, this 2004 album is as explosive, provocative, and complex as rap gets. Kanye magically sledgehammers home opinions on taboo topics over beats that are equally daring.

As one of the brightest and most prolific new songwriters to emerge from the Birmingham music scene over the past few years, Will Stewart has made a name for himself as both an imaginative storyteller and six string gunslinger whose detailed accounts of life around the Deep South seem to capture the essence of not just the humid, kudzu-covered environs they come out of, but also the creative cultural milieu that makes such narratives possible in the first place. Taking cues from everyone from Big Star and R.E.M., to Phosphorescent and the Drive-By Truckers, and even classic Southern literary figures like Eudora Welty and Barry Hannah, Stewart has managed to carve out a place for himself as a conjurer of time, place and characters— and the stories that swirl around them— in a way that’s simultaneously reflective, empathetic and unapologetic in their presentation.

Now on his fourth solo LP, over his past three studio efforts Stewart has shown a deft touch for not just engaging character arcs and succinct studies in the human condition, but also a range of musical modes that span everything from quiet dissertations on love and loss, to brash rockers and moody explorations of the complicated nature of modern Southern living. As someone who also wears the hat of a highly sought after sideman who lends his talents to friends and fellow travelers like Birmingham locals The Blips, Terry Ohms and Sarah Lee Langford, there are few sonic spaces that Stewart’s hands haven’t touched in some way.

Stewart’s newest offering sees him poised to deliver his most ambitious project yet, with a 10-track song cycle centered around the iconic, and now defunct, Moon Winx Lodge in Tuscaloosa, AL, and some of the characters and scenarios that have played themselves out there over the years.

"Thin Peaks" is the sixth album by the microtonal tuba trio Microtub, featuring Robin Hayward (UK/DE), Peder Simonsen (NO), and Martin Taxt (NO). Initially developed during an artist residency in Andersabo, Sweden, the two pieces "Thin Peaks" and "Andersabo” underwent several adaptations before being recorded in 2022. The pieces draw on the acoustic phenomena of half-valve combinations, creating distinctive timbres and harmonic spectra based on the unique half-valve signature of each tuba. Whilst "Thin Peaks" hockets between the pitches arising from a single half-valve combination, each of the four movements of "Andersabo""results from a different half-valve combination, sometimes resulting in surprisingly consonant harmonies.

Formed in 2010, Microtub have performed at prestigious festivals such as Sonic Acts in Amsterdam, MaerzMusik in Berlin, Wien Modern, FIMAV in Victoriaville, and Intonal in Malmö. Their music works particularly well in reverberant spaces. Some of the most memorable venues have been the Ex Teresa Cathedral in Mexico City, Brønshøy Water Tower in Copenhagen and Wasserspeicher in Berlin. Their latest performance in Sweden was at Lumen Projects in the Eric Ericson Hall in March 2024, where they also collaborated with Paris-based Egyptian singer Abdullah Miniawy. While Microtub primarily perform their own compositions, often in Just Intonation using the Hayward Tuning Vine software, they also frequently collaborate with composers such as Ellen Arkbro and Catherine Lamb. At the Ultima Festival in Oslo in September 2024, they will premiere seven new works by emerging composers from Norway, Poland, Iran, and the USA.

The band members are all very active in the experimental music scene worldwide. Hayward has collaborated with legends such as Eliane Radigue, Alvin Lucier and Christian Wolff, Taxt has performed with Verdensteateret, Tetuzi Akiyama and Toshimaru Nakumura, and Peder Simonsen has worked with Jo David Meyer Lysne and Bendik Giske.

Mutant, in partnership with Studio Ponoc, are proud to present the soundtrack to their latest animated film The Imaginary, now streaming on Netflix worldwide.

From the studio that brought you Mary and The Witch’s Flower (2017) and Modest Heroes (2019) comes a new sweeping and epic animated feature film based on the novel by A.F. Harrold. Studio Ponoc’s The Imaginary tells the story of Rudger, the made-up and invisible friend of young Amanda, through his eyes as he traverses the magical liminal spaces that Imaginaries inhabit, the dangers they face, and their adventures.

The original score is full of genre swings and poignant beauty. Bouncing from imaginary Yeti attacks, to Venetian Banquets, and Submarine battles, all while deftly navigating joy, and grief and everything in between - Kenji Tamai & agehasprings take us all on a journey that helps us find our imaginations again.

The anthemic closing track of the film, "Nothing's Impossible", written and performed by A Great Big World featuring Rachel Platten. We are proud to present it for the first time in any physical form.

This limited edition release features original artwork by Tom Whalen (continuing his Studio Ponoc series from Mary and the Witch's Flower), and pressed on 2x 140 gram "Zin-Zan Eyes" color vinyl

Comes with an insert with exclusive pictures and condensed interview about the serie with Lloyd Miller made in March 2022 printed on 300 gram Favini "Remake" paper, plus exclusive goodies!

Personnel:
Manucher Paydar - Tar Drum
Lloyd Miller- Drum (Zarb), Lute (Oud), Lute (Kamanche), Lute (Sehtar)
Marilyn Miller -lute
Jan Otterstrom - Guitar
Stan Wood - Percussion
Anna Claire Eastmond - Vocals

Notes:
The second and last chapter of Dr Miller's journey between cultures and its uses, which began with "The Far East", dissected and looked into the root of the sound of distant Asia, continues with this new chapter dedicated instead to the countries bathed by the Mediterranean and contiguous to Central European history. From Spain to Arabic sounds, a new compendium that takes us back to other places and times, Dr Miller is once again able to dissect and encapsulate sounds and spices from distant places and spaces in a time machine. Thanks to these historical documents, we have the opportunity to discover feelings that are impossible to find 50 years later, sucked up and watered down by globalization and social capitalism.

Like a passenger riding shotgun on a road trip, The Villagers Companion offers its own unique perspective and story to tell. Featuring tracks recorded alongside last year’s acclaimed villagers, TVC captures the miles between the start and destination—the faded gas station pit stops, the plastic saint statue stuck to the dashboard for safe travels or luck. It embodies the essence of the journey without the burden of driving—the experience of the ride itself.

The album takes us through the heart of Califone’s magic: reverb-drenched piano chords, electronic whirs, and layers of experimental noise. Guided by Tim Rutili’s abstract, fragmented lyrics—both strange and familiar—delivered through his warm, well-worn vocals, it creates an experience as evocative as it is haunting. Often passing through what seem to be the spaces between radio frequencies, the stations never meant to be heard. Crackles of static, feedback loops, and fleeting signals bloom into meditative moments, with each sound given space to breathe, unravel, and shimmer in slow decay. The result resonates deeply, transforming what might be noise into something profound, hypnotic, and totally immersive.

As with villagers, Rutili and company continue to explore what it means to get lost while surrounded by modern technology. Like a ghost in a machine or a whispered prayer stuck in a telephone line, Califone adds soul—be it damned or saved. And they do so with the kind of transformative magic granted perhaps only to artists a quarter of a century into their craft. The kind that turns a photograph into a tableau, or any darkened space with a microphone into a makeshift confessional. A song into a hymn, and a hymn into a soundtrack to a life.

Like a passenger riding shotgun on a road trip, The Villagers Companion offers its own unique perspective and story to tell. Featuring tracks recorded alongside last year’s acclaimed villagers, TVC captures the miles between the start and destination—the faded gas station pit stops, the plastic saint statue stuck to the dashboard for safe travels or luck. It embodies the essence of the journey without the burden of driving—the experience of the ride itself.

The album takes us through the heart of Califone’s magic: reverb-drenched piano chords, electronic whirs, and layers of experimental noise. Guided by Tim Rutili’s abstract, fragmented lyrics—both strange and familiar—delivered through his warm, well-worn vocals, it creates an experience as evocative as it is haunting. Often passing through what seem to be the spaces between radio frequencies, the stations never meant to be heard. Crackles of static, feedback loops, and fleeting signals bloom into meditative moments, with each sound given space to breathe, unravel, and shimmer in slow decay. The result resonates deeply, transforming what might be noise into something profound, hypnotic, and totally immersive.

As with villagers, Rutili and company continue to explore what it means to get lost while surrounded by modern technology. Like a ghost in a machine or a whispered prayer stuck in a telephone line, Califone adds soul—be it damned or saved. And they do so with the kind of transformative magic granted perhaps only to artists a quarter of a century into their craft. The kind that turns a photograph into a tableau, or any darkened space with a microphone into a makeshift confessional. A song into a hymn, and a hymn into a soundtrack to a life.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.