Suche:spec fixed up ep

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.

Nia Archives is the star at the forefront of the latest era of jungle. Since her emergence in 2020, her collagist soundscapes have helped bring the sound to a new generation of clubgoers (though fair warning: don’t call her a “revivalist” – she’s the first to point out that the scene never went away). So when it comes to talk of the 24-year-old producer, DJ, singer and songwriter’s much-anticipated debut album, the odds are you’re thinking of a full-length record of weightless jungle tracks with basslines so intense they’ll leave your ears ringing.

But the reality of the Bradford-born, Leeds-raised artist’s first ever album – while very much replete with that exquisite jungle sound she does so well – is also doing something a little different. On the thrilling and freeing Silence Is Loud, Nia Archives is looking to make music for beyond the rave. As she explains: “I think music can be experienced in different ways, and there’s different kinds of music for different scenarios. Say you’re at a festival listening to music with thousands of other people, that can feel really uniting. But then you might listen to an album on your own in the bus, or in a taxi; and this project is definitely more a record to sit and listen to than a collection of club tracks.” Nia is intent that Silence Is Loud is taken in as a full body of work of something “more song-focussed, putting interesting sounds on jungle.” It means that this is a record which finds gloomy Britpop, warm Motown, soaring indie, a love for Kings of Leon’s Aha Shake Heartbreak, skittering IDM, Madchester, classic rock, old skool hardcore and more, woven and fused into her ragga and junglist tapestry, all layered with feeling, imbued with her songwriterly lyricism about loneliness, relationships, family, navigating her 20s, and the intense potential power of silence.

The vast sonic palette on Silence Is Loud comes down to Nia’s broad array of influences through her life. With her Jamaican heritage, Nia remembers hearing jungle as a child via her nana, as well as at Bradford Carnival, where she was drawn to the soundsystem culture, dancing carefree on the floats in the parade. The first album she ever bought was Rihanna’s debut, Music of the Sun, and she also went to Pentecostal church back then, and was obsessed with gospel. Aged 16, she moved to Manchester, where she didn’t really know anybody: and so, her solution to meeting people was going out. “Partying was a huge part of my life,” she says, “They used to do little freestyle cyphers at the house parties and I would join in – that’s kind of how I got into singing.” She had found music boring at school, but in meeting all these new people she became interested in making her own music as a hobby. “I was making boom-bap kind of stuff which I didn’t really like in the end,” she laughs, “My lyrics are quite deep, so on a hip-hop beat it all sounds really depressing. I wanted people to dance to my music.” And so she began experimenting with faster tempos alongside that melancholy songwriting, teaching herself how to make beats on Logic: “It’s all been a lot of trial and error, really.”

Nia went to study music in London, and was also interested in visual art, making collages and VHS: “Before the music, I was trying to make a visual archive of my life and the people around me,” she explains, “And then my music was like my diary, and a sonic archive, as well.” Hence, she paired the word “archives” with her middle name, Nia. To this day, in her spare time she’s working on pulling together a documentary on the global nature of the jungle scene.

Back on those first two EPs, Headz Gone West (2021) and Forbidden Feelingz (2022), she honed that junglist sound, painting it with new flecks of colour and vibrance. It was only after she started releasing work that she realised pursuing music could be a viable life path for her. The decision has been paying off ever since. Nia Archives placed third in the prestigious BBC Sound Poll for 2023, alongside garnering a nomination for the Brit Awards’ Rising Star prize, plus wins at the DJ Mag, NME, the MOBOs and Artist and Manager Awards. She has also toured the world – be it North America, Europe or Asia – and even opened a show in London as part of a little something called Beyoncé’s Renaissance World Tour. She’s renowned as a party-starter in her own right, too, with takeovers at Glastonbury, Warehouse Project and her own Bad Gyalz day event. She’s done official remixes for the likes of Jorja Smith, had a huge summer hit with her Yeah Yeah Yeahs rework ‘Off Wiv Ya Headz’, and worked with brands like Corteiz, Nike, Flannels, Burberry, FIFA and Apple. In just three years, it’s fair to say that Nia Archives has become a need-to-know name in dance music.

But Nia is not interested in being one fixed thing. Building on the terrain from her third EP, Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against Tha Wall, the universe of Silence Is Loud is not totally unfamiliar territory; but it’s still emblematic of a bolder scope than we’ve heard from the artist before. Working with Ethan P. Flynn (the songwriter and producer known for his work with FKA twigs and David Byrne), the resulting record is an impressive feat of deftly-sculpted textures; sometimes big and euphoric, like the wobbly, lusty bass of ‘Forbidden Feelingz’, or elsewhere notably gentle and quiet – see: the gorgeous, surprisingly drumless ‘Silence Is Loud (Reprise)’, a heartfelt number that sits somewhere in the school of Adele. “I really sharpened my songwriting skill on this project,” Nia says, “I was really intentional about what I was writing about, and I really loved co-producing with Ethan. His process is so different to anyone I’ve worked with before, and he’s got a kind of DIY set-up like me.” Flynn’s flat overlooks the Barbican, adding that unquantifiable futurist urban quality that the area holds to the music. The pair enjoyed the collaborative process so much that the album was done within three and a half months.

Perhaps this is why Silence Is Loud maintains an exuberant immediacy while still being sleek and spacious, interspersed with flourishes of metallic beats, lush melody and topped with her sugary but powerful vocal, floating over it all. There is an intimacy to the record, perhaps in part due to Nia writing most of her lyrics while sitting in bed in her flat in Bow (once a bedroom producer, always a bedroom producer). You can hear it on the refrain for lead single ‘Crowded Roomz’, which finds rippling guitar lines cutting taut through the beats as Nia refrains: “I feel so lonely crowded rooms.” The song is an examination of life on tour, constantly surrounded by people, but not necessarily those she can be herself around; more than that, the track is exemplary in the category of sad bangers.

Silence Is Loud often finds itself in that push and pull between melancholy and euphoria. There’s a celebration of her unconditional love for her younger brother (the title track), a rumination of an evening with an Irish boy she met by Temple Bar (‘Cards On The Table), or a letter to herself on the light and airy ‘Unfinished Business’, even coming to terms with a lover having a past they haven’t quite processed yet (“nobody comes with a clean slate”). The latter was recorded the week after a music festival, and accordingly captures Nia’s vocal in its not quite healed, husky state.

Nia’s work is always a snapshot of where she’s at when she’s making it. This might not be the debut album you were expecting, but that’s what makes Silence Is Loud so special. Nia Archives has learned the rules of her sound, and is unafraid to break them, pushing jungle and herself into new, unchartered territories that, in turn, go some way to map the history of the greats of British dance music. More than that, it plants her firmly in that lineage.

The EP also includes a remix of the popular single ‘SAMO’, which
spent four weeks on the BBC 6 Music playlist, accompanied by an
animated lyric video paying homage to the graffiti tag it was named
after by Al Diaz and American artist and wunderkind, Jean-Michel
Basquiat. The final track on the EP is a remix of ‘Waiting on a Train’,
presenting a new and special version of the original song, with the
presence of featuring artists Ellen Beth Abdi and Chunky remaining
strong.

Formed in 1978 with a core line-up of Jez Kerr, Martin Moscrop and
Donald Johnson, A Certain Ratio emerged from the hallowed grounds
of the late 1970s punk scene, and from that day on they’ve moved
forwards with gleeful disregard for the boundaries of style and genre,
their eye fixed firmly on constant progression.

‘ACR:EPA’ is the first of a trilogy of EPs by A
Certain Ratio.
‘EPA’ is dedicated to Denise Johnson and features
the band’s final recordings with Denise, where they
used up their final days recording time with a day
jamming in the studio with no fixed agenda, the
result is something very special.
This EP will be followed later in the year by
‘ACR:EPC’ and ‘ACR:EPR’ and comes after the
band’s highly acclaimed album ‘ACR Loco’ and
ahead of a nationwide tour.
Valentine Red vinyl 12” includes extensive sleeve
notes and photo inner sleeve plus digital download
code.

Lost Futures is a new label that explores experimental and often radical approaches to dance music from the past. In a musical landscape that increasingly claims to seek and reward new forms and ideas, Lost Futures delves into the recent past to revisit forward-thinking, optimistic projects that, owing to the social, musical or outright political climate, perhaps struggled to find an audience. Allowing only time to re-contextualise these leftfield, sometimes misunderstood and ultimately human bodies of work, Lost Futures taps into the inherent idealism of rave.

LF001 trips back until the early nineties to revisit the alternative scene emerging from the Dutch city of Utrecht. Here, three young men - DJ Zero One (Sander Friedeman), TJ Tape TV (Arno Peeters) and DJ White Delight (Richard van der Giessen) - joined forces to form 'The Awax Foundation'. Inspired by the transcendent and revolutionary electronic music arriving on their shores imported from Chicago and Detroit, combining their knowledge, gear and ever-expanding vinyl collection allowed additional freedom in paying sincere tribute to these intoxicating sounds, while also developing their tastes in a more personal, eclectic direction.

The musical flavours of Awax initially leaned toward acid house and the roots of techno. However, with three different mindsets in the mix, their tastes were rarely fixed. One thing each shared in common was a devotion to collecting rare sounds, specifically more adventurous and international samples than those emanating from the increasingly-hard, masculine dance music emerging from the Netherlands during the period. Inspired by the cross-over global sound of bands like Suns of Arqa, or 'World Music', as it was perhaps patronisingly termed at the time, the trio became interested in the idea of making techno with 'ethnic instruments'.

Of course, this being 1992, none of The Awax Foundation had access to such instruments, instead, they had a vast, collective library of samples from all over the world. There were no collaborations and no clear plan. Instead, they set to work using a Yamaha TX16W sampler, the legendary Atari 1040ST computer, a cheap mixing desk and a couple of low-end synths and FX machines. When Richard mentioned the project to his friend, Akin Fernandez, the London DJ and owner of cult label Irdial Discs, Fernandez was intrigued enough to invite the trio to record a one-hour show for his 'Monster Music Radio' series on London's then-burgeoning Kiss FM.

Forced to come up with a name, 'CultureClash' seemed like the obvious choice, even if the members of Awax were only creatively sparring among themselves. Along with the term 'ethno-techno', slightly dubious to a hopefully more conscious Western audience in 2017, these were the only guiding principles to the quietly ambitious project that soon combined cutting-edge machine rhythms with samples sourced from everywhere from Bolivia to Togo, and inspired by everything from Ravi Shankar's epic soundtrack to the Oscar-winning movie Ghandi, to the technical limits of their own setup requiring a dazzling degree of cut-and-paste work. Some tracks even emerged out of academic studies within the ethnomusicology department at The University of Amsterdam.

The show aired on October 2nd, 1992, recorded in one blistering take and without any rehearsals, traversing a huge variety of tempos and styles. If the performance wasn't seamless, it was undeniably thrilling, fresh and ambitious. As such, several labels, including Fernandez's aforementioned Irdial Discs expressed an interesting in commercially releasing CultureClash, while another imprint proposed a series of twelve-inches and an album. But the sheer complexity of the project meant that it never saw the light of day, while the trio embarked on different journeys ahead, both creative and personal.

Twenty five years later, and the original CultureClash lineup and founding members of The Awax Foundation provide the sound of the first release from Lost Futures. An otherworldly, ambitious and optimistic compilation, accompanied by extensive sleeve notes from the trio, CultureClash is a timeless ode to experimentation in dance music's ever-overlapping culture.