Suche:spectral

Tribunal kehren mit ihrem zweiten Album "In Pentinence and Ruin" zurück, einer Elegie voller Trauer und Verlorenheit, die immer tiefer in den feierlichen Abgrund des Kummers hinabsteigt. Das Debüt "The Weight of Remembrance" von 2023 legte die Messlatte für die Kanadier hoch und wurde zu einer der bemerkenswertesten und am meisten gelobten Doom-Veröffentlichungen des Jahres, was Decibel Mag dazu veranlasste, das neue Album der Band in ihre jährliche Liste der am meisten erwarteten Veröffentlichungen aufzunehmen. Tribunal haben sich Zeit genommen und ein Werk von enormer Tragweite geschaffen, das in längst verlassenen Hallen noch lange nachhallen wird.

In Penitence and Ruin" hat sich zu einer vollwertigen fünfköpfigen Band und Live-Einheit entwickelt und bietet einen größeren Zusammenhalt und eine größere Reife, die das Wehklagen der Witwe mit düsteren Streichern, schaurigen Tasten und Schlagzeug, das wie die eiserne Glocke des Schicksals läutet, miteinander verwebt. Diese Elemente schmücken das monolithische Fundament aus erdrückenden Klageliedern und funeralen Melodien, die aus dem Mark der Trauer selbst gehauen sind. Die Dualität zwischen dem wehmütigen, leidenschaftlichen Gesang des Sängers/Cellisten Soren Morne und den gequälten Knurrlauten des Gitarristen/Sängers Etinne Flinn verbindet sich mit entschlossenem Schritt und schreitet voran in die Dunkelheit, auf einem Pfad, der nur durch das fahle Glühen einer fernen Klage erhellt wird.

Tribunal hath wrought a requiem most dire where beauty and ruin become one and in doing have forged a second album beyond expectations, progressive in its embrace of the penitent and eminently listenable as a scripture of loss. Like ivy upon the tombstone, 'In Penitence And Ruin' winds slowly but inexorably towards spectral grandeur and eternal oblivion.

Tribunal kehren mit ihrem zweiten Album "In Pentinence and Ruin" zurück, einer Elegie voller Trauer und Verlorenheit, die immer tiefer in den feierlichen Abgrund des Kummers hinabsteigt. Das Debüt "The Weight of Remembrance" von 2023 legte die Messlatte für die Kanadier hoch und wurde zu einer der bemerkenswertesten und am meisten gelobten Doom-Veröffentlichungen des Jahres, was Decibel Mag dazu veranlasste, das neue Album der Band in ihre jährliche Liste der am meisten erwarteten Veröffentlichungen aufzunehmen. Tribunal haben sich Zeit genommen und ein Werk von enormer Tragweite geschaffen, das in längst verlassenen Hallen noch lange nachhallen wird.

In Penitence and Ruin" hat sich zu einer vollwertigen fünfköpfigen Band und Live-Einheit entwickelt und bietet einen größeren Zusammenhalt und eine größere Reife, die das Wehklagen der Witwe mit düsteren Streichern, schaurigen Tasten und Schlagzeug, das wie die eiserne Glocke des Schicksals läutet, miteinander verwebt. Diese Elemente schmücken das monolithische Fundament aus erdrückenden Klageliedern und funeralen Melodien, die aus dem Mark der Trauer selbst gehauen sind. Die Dualität zwischen dem wehmütigen, leidenschaftlichen Gesang des Sängers/Cellisten Soren Morne und den gequälten Knurrlauten des Gitarristen/Sängers Etinne Flinn verbindet sich mit entschlossenem Schritt und schreitet voran in die Dunkelheit, auf einem Pfad, der nur durch das fahle Glühen einer fernen Klage erhellt wird.

Tribunal hath wrought a requiem most dire where beauty and ruin become one and in doing have forged a second album beyond expectations, progressive in its embrace of the penitent and eminently listenable as a scripture of loss. Like ivy upon the tombstone, 'In Penitence And Ruin' winds slowly but inexorably towards spectral grandeur and eternal oblivion.

Another foggy day in Yorkshire. A steel grey sky. Raindrops tracing one another down the windowpane. Kirk Barley sits in his studio and assembles compositions from scraps of found sound and live instrumentation. Melodies swell, withdraw and repeat like waves. Time slows. Accelerates. Slows again. The light bends, tweaked at the edges. Twisted by rhythms that never quite resolve.

Written, recorded and produced by Barley in Yorkshire in early 2024, Lux picks up where 2023 LP Marionette leaves off, conjuring a mystical, reflective space between formal minimalism and sonic imaginaries of northern landscapes.

And yet, where Marionette relied at times on more recognisable field recordings, Lux leans into Barley’s skill as an instrumentalist and sound designer, working from a palette of short samples and utilising a variety of alternate tuning systems to build, layer and coax his compositions into being. Most evident on tracks ‘Vita’, ‘Sprite’ and ‘Descendent’, these tunings create an otherworldly harmonic language that is easier to perceive than describe.

Alongside more familiar instruments of guitar, bass, drums, organ and clarinet, here Barley draws on plastic saxophones and bells, and recordings of glass, wood and metal sound objects to provide the organic matter. Rather than directly representative of the natural world, Lux enters into a dialogue with it which, like the grasses and flowers of the album’s cover, exists somewhere between reality and artifice.

On album opener ‘Cache’, Barley constructs his own sense of time from a recording of an umbrella crank, a sparse and spectral piece which hints at memories embedded in the track’s title. Introspection blossoms into new life on ‘Vita’, crumpling again into the percussive ambience of ‘Verre’. A track that takes its harmonic lead from the clinks of glass, it features Barley’s long-time collaborator Matt Davies on drums, whose nuanced, tonally sensitive playing gives ‘Verre’ a fizzing, ice-like quality.

There are several moments where Lux picks up on themes Barley explored under electronic moniker Church Andrews on recent works with Davies, stretching and distorting temporalities most explicitly on ‘Descendent’, whose ritualistic air unfurls around a pattern in exponential decline.

Embracing the surrealism Barley absorbed over years watching classic film noir and the works of David Lynch and Federico Fellini, Lux wends its way through the enchanted sound worlds of ‘Sprite’ and ‘Balanced’ before arriving at the album’s title track.

An expression of his recent experiments in live, prepared guitar, ‘Lux’ brings the album back to earth, returning us to the room where the rain has stopped, the clouds have parted, and the soft warmth of the spring sun is pouring in through the open window.

The Crystal Hum is the debut vinyl release by Taiwan-based artist Yuching Huang and her first release for Night School.
A beguiling dreamscape of crackles, spluttering, love-struck Casios presided over by the the spectral vocal and guitar work of Huang, Yuching sings love songs at the end of this world and the beginning of the next. Recorded during a hiatus from her group Aemong (a duo with artist Henrique Uba) in Berlin, these songs elevate Huang’s unique vocal style and grasp of atmospherics. The Crystal Hum deconstructs balladry, Garage, guitar music and reforms it into a
unified ghostly otherworld version of these languages.

The Crystal Hum thrums with buried desire, trails of nocturnal reverb seeping out of apartment windows, diaristic vocal performances and deeply emotive, evocative Western-style strings. Formulated by Yuching Huang after periods of frustration and experimentation, the album is an exercise in minimalism and paring back, with some tracks like JohnJohn featuring little else than an elastic bass, spring reverb trails, an interjecting vocal and swelling, dislocated synths. The effect is spellbinding, the soundtrack to getting lost in the labyrinthine, closed streets of Venice, Taipei, Hong Kong, or mirror versions of them in the imagination.

On opener Fly! Little Black Thing, a subterranean funk bassline roots Huang’s singing, a rudimentary, unreliable beat floundering in whimsy underneath. Demure, dream Dance music, Huang references classic lo fi experimenters Suicide and Arthur Russell as well as Night School label mates The Space Lady and Ela Orleans. In fact, after the release of Aemong’s third album Crimson, Huang credits the direction of The Crystal Hum to being enchanted by The Space Lady’s Greatest Hits,
the landmark lo-fi recording made by Susan Dietrich Schneider in 1990. The new, minimalist approach to her sound world reveals and shrouds in equal measure. On the heart-melter Love, a sultry mid-tempo Casio + bass backing drops into the ether with Huang’s vocal swimming in preternatural void before emerging anew, in awe at the world. Every chord change heralds new perspectives, every guitar flurry swells and drips emotion, nothing is wasted and space billows out from between the grooves.
Huang never reveals more than necessary, making this an in-between love album: the right amount of mystery and darkened mirror shines wanely on The Crystal Hum while remaining fragile and vulnerable in the sweet spots. Turning over in pillowing smoke and night in the dark corners, Huang sings in both Mandarin and English. The songs speak of earthly matters seemingly at the edge of dissipating into nothing. Distorted, beguiling Sambas warble like sweating dancehalls in an imagined Lynchian 60s, as on Thoughts. Closer You, An Illusion warps a classic 60s Girlgroup bassline beloved of the likes of Les Rallizes

Denudes into a slight ballad on the edge of the void, held back by the teary-eyed, wistful and enveloping vocal cooed by Huang. Each song feels like a love song dedicated to the bits between worlds, between beats, the negative space between people where desires, feelings and loss hangs in the air, resolute and unresolved.

Five Green Moons is the brand new project from the legendary Justin Robertson and here he drops the first fruits of that project with the incredible Moon 1.

This isn't Justin at his house controls. This is Justin delving into his roots and digging around through the likes of P.I.L, Gang Of Four, On-U-Sound, Current 93, Coil, Sabres Of Paradise and all manner of post punk echoes and basement electronics. As the man himself puts it - Moon 1 is a haunted ballroom full of memories. The sound of a dystopian disco. An object on a wonky orbit. A spectral visitation. And it is alive.

On their most explicit venture into music for moving image, Miles Whittaker & Sean Canty rudely fracture piano and vocal recordings by US filmmaker-musician Kristen Pilon in a short-circuiting of style and pattern.

Shredding up definitions of electro-acoustic opera, spectralist chamber musique and concrète rave, Demdike hit square between the eyes/ears of film music vernaculars on a startlingly strong addition to their unique oeuvre, now in its 16th year of elusive psychoacoustic strafes and jump-cuts across putative borders. The 13-part, hour-long album dislodges source material made for the experimental film ‘To Cut and Shoot’, by Kristen Pilon, an NYC-based musician and filmmaker, to farther refract the film’s themes of serendipity and the nature of ghosts and dreams with a flickering flux of sound-imagery and aleatoric weirdness appropriate to her original meditations, but also freely messing with their forms.

Situated just a few miles north of Houston, Cut and Shoot is a relatively insignificant Texas town with an unforgettably bizarre name. Pilon grew up not far from Cut and Shoot, and it's there where she ran into 65-year-old machinist and motorcyclist Robert Lewis Stevenson, better known as Bobbo, who's pictured on the album's cover. The meeting occurred a few months after Pilon recorded her improvisations on piano, strings and voice in the basement cellar of the Halle in Manchester, with Bobbo providing the necessary narrative heft the trio needed to inspire an experimental film and its accompanying soundtrack.

Responding to Kristen’s initial piano and operatic vocal recordings, Demdike return a volley of discrete parts tilting from typically cantankerous mayhem to quieter, more clandestine buzzes sliced with crazed interstices of the imagination, all marbled with the plasmic contrails of the paranormal which have long been peculiar to their work. With a poetic flair reflecting Pilon’s own phrasing and melding of mediums, Demdike unfold and expand her melodic fragments into temporal mazes, variously resembling the most messed-up ends of The Caretaker in ‘A Grave Fall (January)’, but also liable to skew into buckshot club turbulence, as with ‘Belly Up’, or the bittersweet bruk contortions of ‘Twist’.

The storyline wickedly frays and loops into itself with a non-linearity that recalls the mid-to-latter stages of Lynch’s ‘Mulholland Drive’ or waking from a sweaty fever dream only to pitch back into its thorny bush of ghosts, often within the space of one track. It’s testament to the ever-tighter binds of Demdike’s symbiotic vision that the results nevertheless hold a thread of logic that weaves in everything from their Jon Collin jams to reams of mixes and Gruppo edits with an unresolved, open-ended quality that still keeps us on our toes, perhaps more so than ever here.

In 2016, Cliche Morph offered the aquatic textures of "Liquid Materia". "Hidden Madness" is the return and a new beginning. Four tracks of intense introspection mark a collaboration and a founding, Deep Sound Channel and Postdynamic. Atmospheric and immersive, from the needle drop the listener is immediately drawn into the subterranean chambers of this cerebral piece. A stark beat is the guide rope, a snare that echoes and ricochets into the cavernous expanse of cold currents and all too real phantoms. Feeding off that palpable paranoia, Psyk pours a thick resonating syrup over the original before pulling the switch. Darkness descends, distortion and reverb dominate with a steady kick delivering some form of solid ground. Respite? No hope. Pound and thud tell the arrival of "Exorcist". Industrial groans and a clanking larynx are cut through by haunting strings, a meagre echo of humanity in this absorbing and unsettling track. Blazej Malinowski closes. Drum patterns are amplified and concentrated in the producer's purge of "Exorcist", hi-hats hissing as the spectral refrains of the original shift in shape and form. A 12" that plumbs the physical and the psychological depths of sound.

Watkins Group returns to Frequency Consortium for its second release, pushing further into the murky depths of dubbed-out desolation. Dubh Dubs (Dark Dubs) takes its name literally—seven tracks of cavernous low-end pressure, submerged echoes, and spectral atmospheres, drawing inspiration from the voids between worlds, the unseen corners of deep space, and the eerie stillness of unknown places.

Where Beanntan a’ Bhròin charted a course through the bleak grandeur of the Highlands, Dubh Dubs plunges headfirst into the abyss, embracing the weight of isolation and the slow decay of time. Watkins Group crafts a sound that feels at once infinite and suffocating—pulsing, restrained, and heavy with the dread of something just beyond reach. Tape-warped textures and submerged percussive mutations unfold in glacial movements, calling to mind the nocturnal dub abstractions of Porter Ricks, the blackened ambience of Thomas Köner, and the sub-heavy spirals of Rhythm & Sound at their most ghostly.

A study in tension and negative space, Dubh Dubs marks another compelling entry in the Frequency Consortium catalog—an offering for those drawn to the darker recesses of sound, where every echo leads deeper into the unknown.

In loving memory of my brother and kindred spirit - Marcus Rafferty

“Eerie, wailing sounds over distorted feedback drones… Vibrato-heavy harmonies chirrup and throb in agonisingly slow motion.”
The Guardian, Album of the Month

“Cinematic...carefully orchestrated...delicately explores unfamiliar territory with uncanny finesse.”
The Wire

Acclaimed Icelandic theremin musician Hekla returns with Turnar, her third album of devastatingly heavy, spectral soundscape-songwriting, entering a sublime paranormal plane of haunting dread.

Now augmenting her virtuosic solo theremin work with cello, voice, and the sacred church organ of Icelandic master Kristján Hrannar, the evolution of Hekla’s unique magic summons new worlds with Turnar. The album was recorded partly in (and named after) a medieval castle tower in rural France, its ruinous black broken in spare beams of angelic stained-glass light. But, writes Hekla, “the sound of theremin kind of opens up a portal into a new realm that both looks into a dark old world and to the future.” The record is an alternately beautiful and crushing space voyage into a glacial underworld cascading with phosphorescence and cave drip, conjuring ancient choral ritual just as readily as redolent sci-fi gloam.

Opener “Inni” begins with swooning and shimmering lines of theremin that shiver with electrified energy before subfrequency bass elevates them into a glowing plasma, hovering above a crystallised surf. Key moment “Gráminn” wails with ghostly harmonics while distorted drones crash together in a stormy and blackened netherworld sea. It traces a neat progression from Hekla’s last album - the acclaimed Xiuxiuejar - while also welcoming an expanded timbral palette and flourishing compositional confidence. At the end of side A, “Var” delicately places sonic artefacts about a desolate negative space, creating a dense inverse gravity. As with the rest of the record, a claustrophobic gauze hangs over music that could otherwise be called subverted songwriting, aligning Hekla’s sonics with avant-garde, musique concréte and sound-art.

Cornelia Murr’s newest album, Run To The Center, began with a question: What do I want? The answer is everything, and it’s never felt more urgent.

On her first LP in six years, Run To The Center, on 22TWENTY, the London-born singer-songwriter delivers her most expansive, confident work yet. Across 10 hypnotic pop songs, Murr crafts a portrait of a woman in her thirties, standing triumphantly in uncertainty and asking life’s essential questions: How do you fit everything you want into a life? How can you want so much and still manage to live?

Run To The Center, which Murr will tour internationally, is her first release since the 2022 EP Corridor and her first LP since her 2018 debut Lake Tear of the Clouds, produced by Jim James of My Morning Jacket. Murr had long wanted to make another LP, but economic and global forces kept getting in the way. Finally, in the spring of 2023, Murr started working with producer Luke Temple (Adrienne Lenker, Hand Habits), adding to her roster of impressive collaborators. Temple, an old friend, helped Murr realize a sweeping album of her most tender, spectral pop yet.

The songs on Run To The Center reflect Murr’s need to explore desire and time. Some are new, born from spontaneous collaboration, while others had lingered in her mind for years. The album’s production, with muscular drums and buoyant synths, is more expansive than her previous work, swirling with a sparse futurism as Murr embraces life’s uncertainties.

Murr wrote much of the album while hunkering down in Red Cloud, Nebraska, restoring an old house. In this unexpected place, she found her center. The result is an album that explores big questions with beauty and humor, as Murr stands fully in her power.

Listen to all the pearls of Electronic Music withe the releases dedicated to House, Techno & Drum"n"Bass, sélected by the REXCLUB in a doble vinyl collection ! DISCOVER THE NEW VOLUME OF THE REX CLUB COLLECTION : THE DOUBLE VINYL DRUM"N"BASS With : Roni Size * DJ Gilb"r * Phume * Goldie * Tek 9 * Special Request * Rockwall * Aquarian * LU2K * ...

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

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

Magic Source is back with an exclusive 2 tracks single filled with their special rootsy cosmic funky touch.

Led by producer & notorious tape operator Björn Wagner (of Mighty Mocambos, Bacao Rhythm & Steel Band and Mocambo Records), the group follows up to the release of their 2nd LP last year, Voyage Spectral. This time again, the German band dives into the Tropical and international aspects of Disco and Funk music, always using 100% organic production and recordings material.

On this 2 tracks single, you’ll first find a blazing and unexpected covers of “Voodoo Ray” the classic acid-house track by A Guy Called Gerald, with special vocals by Mounam & Gizelle Smith. Following up to this already dancefloor classic, comes “Interplanetary Bounce”, a new and exclusive composition from the band also tailored to make you move, with its Boogie touch and heavy breaks.

Open Head is a 4 piece experimental ensemble from Kingston, New York. With a taste for the concrete and the spectral, their new album What Is Success sources beauty in brutalist architecture, holography, and the remnants of industrialism that ornament the Hudson Valley landscape. The result is expansive, stratospheric in volume, and brutally material in its punctuation and delivery. Drawing on New York no-wave and the avant-garde history of punk, noise, hip-hop and electronic music, Open Head presents a sound that is itself a landscape-immediate, colossal, ruined and essential. Open Head is Jared Ashdown (v,g), Brandon Minervini (g,v), Jon McCarthy (b), and Dan Schwartz (d).

Following a four-year hiatus from solo releases, the British musician Matt Karmil returns with the soft-focus gentle beauty and subtly stealthy beats of new LP, ‘No Going Back’.

With inspired moments of creation happening incrementally, the album came together amidst a busy mixing/remixing/ mastering/co-production schedule. Artists who’ve enlisted his^multiple skills includes Bicep, Underworld, Mall Grab, Jayda G, DJ Koze, Neneh Cherry, Sofia Kourtesis, DJ Fett Burger, Matias Aguayo and Carmen Villain.

Feeling the benefits of this new approach, ‘No Going Back’ is the strongest expression of Matt's artistic vision to date, honing the spectrum of styles for which he’s renowned, all smudged together by a warm, gauzy haze. The microhouse anthem ‘SFP’ is followed by the broken tech science of ‘No Going Back’, the spectral dub techno spookiness of ‘Old Haunts’ and the sublime misty shimmer of ‘The Last Time’.

Further switching things up is the oddball dancefloor experimentalism of ‘Still Something There,’ the washed-out electroid balm of ‘Things Really Happen’, and the epic dark ambient closer ’15 mins’.

RIYL: Portishead, Thom Yorke, BEAK>, SUUNS, TR/ST, Radiohead. Solo project of Robert Toher who was the creator of ERAAS. Covered by Quietus,Pitchfork, NME, Stereogum, Earmilk, The 405, Clash, BBC Radio, Clash and more.... Public Memory is a mixture of damaged and dubbed-out percussion, unfurling synths and sparse sampling - all strung together by producer Robert Toher's spectral tenor. The project's sophomore LP, Demolition follows 2017's Veil of Counsel EP and 2016's Wuthering Drum LP with cinematic fortitude. While Public Memory's prominent krautrock and trip-hop rhythms are represented here, Demolition explores a greater range of tempos and an expanse of alien emotions with layers of electronic drums, live drums, Korg synths and samples from nature. Themes of rebirth and reflection imbue the album's atmosphere, rich in tape delay, spring reverb, and textures that conjure a sci fi and supernatural narrative. Opener "The Line" sets the album in motion with a driving energy and introspective unease, as if estranged from the world it was created in. A meditation on impending collapse, "Red Rainbow" begins with an arpeggiated melody that hints at a sense of dread. Like the darkness of night descends, the track unfolds with haunting atmospherics and howling synths, finishing with an unexpected climax that ominously builds until at last it falls apart, quickly, softly, without incident. The slowtempoed "Aegis" reflects on the banal reality of love lost, with shuffling rhythms, lingering inflections and a growling synth at its core. Toher's adept use of space and tension articulates the world of Demolition as eerie, emotive, and above all, narcotic. Each track is an existential procession. "Turning out the lights on your illusion," Toher sings to close the album, accepting that change is an inescapable condition of being.

Jabu return with ‘A Soft and Gatherable Star’, an LP that sees the Bristol-based trio evolve from a uniquely spectral take on trip hop to proffer a singular vision between cloudy, downered dream-pop, off-kilter ambient, and the warm, low-end throb of sound system culture. This development is aligned with contemporaries like HTRK, Dean Blunt, Tarquin Manek, YL Hooi and Rat Heart Ensemble, whilst also harkening back to the likes of AR Kane (with whom they are set to play shows and release a collaborative single), the languorous drift of 'Victorialand' era Cocteau Twins or The Cure circa ‘Disintegration’. Comprising Jasmine Butt (vocals, guitar), Alex Rendall (vocals, keys) and Amos Childs (production, bass guitar), the trio’s method may have shifted but the feel remains consistent - slow, spatial, sensuous and gently melancholic. With a career arc unlike almost any other current guitar outfit, Jabu sit within a strong lineage of off-centre Bristolian music, and a very British strain of home-spun DIY bands. Self-recorded between Jas and Amos’ home in South Bristol and Amos’ mum’s house in rural North Somerset, the album came together via a process of trial and error - learning to play on borrowed instruments, using the equipment “wrong”, staying up late recording and slipping into strange, semi-conscious sleep deprived/inebriated headspaces. Having captured over 50 tracks, they honed in on those they liked most, shaping them further, whilst carving out space to allow input from people they love and admire - Daniela Dyson’s voice and Will Memotone's clarinet on ‘Ashes Over Shute Shelve’, Birthmark's synth on ‘Gently Fade’ and ‘Sea Mills’, Rakhi Singh (Manchester Collective) and Sebastian Gainsborough (Vessel)’s strings and arrangements on ‘All Night’, Josh Horsley’s cello on ‘If I Asked You, You'd Tell Me’, and Lorenzo Prati’s sax, again on ‘Sea Mills’. The album was mastered by Amir Shoat (HTRK, ML Buch, Dean Blunt, Carla Dal Forno). Influence-wise, the guitar-based material recalls the bands Amos listened to when younger, and Jas’ more folk-leaning inspirations. Deep-lying dub, hip hop and soul influences are also evident in both the way the LP was mixed, and the space ingrained in their subconscious. Tinged with melancholy, the songs cohere as a set of soliloquies and ruminations on love and tenderness. The album’s title comes from a poem by Amos’ late father which hangs on his wall and seeped into the record. ‘Ashes Over Shute Shelve’ is formed of lines from another poem of his. Recited by longtime collaborator Daniela Dyson and with Will Yates (Memotone) playing his mother’s clarinet, the track was imagined as a conversation between his parents. Geography and location also play a big part in the record, with several significant places name-checked in songs. Shute Shelve itself is a hill near Amos’ mum’s house, who explains “There’s a tree at the top with a 360° view of the Mendips, where my dad’s ashes were scattered. We used to go up there when we could first buy booze from the petrol station down the road, get drunk, light a fire, listen to music from my little battery powered CD player and sleep out without tents.” Titled after a Bristol suburb near where Amos’ grandparents lived and where Jas would spend time as a teenager, ‘Sea Mills’ references her being abandoned by friends on the Downs while high on mushrooms, stranded and missing the bus back. ‘Kosiše Flower’ references the city in Slovakia where Amos and Jas holidayed shortly after getting together and a flower he gave her, which she pressed in a book after an argument. ‘Oceanside Spider House’ is a location in Nintendo 64 game The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask, where someone seeks shelter from the falling moon. Genre: Electronic / Ambient / Dream-pop

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."