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Buffalo Nichols sophomore album, The Fatalist, is in stores September 15. Milwaukee, WI-based Buffalo Nichols today announced his anticipated new album The Fatalist will be released on September 15th, 2023 via Fat Possum, and shared its lead single: a dusky take on Blind Willie Johnson’s original "You're Gonna Need Somebody On Your Bond." The follow-up to his 2021 self-titled debut LP for Fat Possum–a critically acclaimed record that earned him his network television debut on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, various major festival performances, and rave coverage via NPR Music (All Songs Considered, Tiny Desk (Home) Concert), Rolling Stone, Guitar World, Texas Monthly, and more–The Fatalist sounds unlike any blues record you’re likely to hear in 2023. The lead single’s video, directed by Samer Ghani, captures songwriter, guitarist, and vocalist Carl Nichols singing of salvation and relief in his soundscape that teems with the joyous claustrophobia of classic gospel. Sampled triggers of Charley Patton’s version connect the earliest blues recordings to the present, both singers’ voices urgent in their message. Nichols explains: “A traditional song made modern. Which aspects of ‘the Blues’ are essential? Is it a melody? A certain vocabulary? Delivery? Instrumentation? Is this still a blues song? And most importantly: who gets to decide? I tried to reimagine the blues with this song as if it were allowed to grow and progress uninterrupted, uncolonized and ungentrified.”

Before he was old enough to legally drink, there were "Best Of," rarities compilations, and .zip files floating through the ether.

Whenever industry prospectors earmarked him as the next big thing, he disappeared back underground, only to reemerge sharper, leaner, weirder.

Though only 26, the St. Louis- born rapper and producer has seen enough for several lifetimes--and raps as if he's tapped into many more. But after a few years of highs, lows, and traumatic odysseys, he was able to stare straight into the abyss and conquer it. This regained confidence is exhibited on fish don't climb trees, the largely self-produced new album that reaffirms him as one of rap's great auteurs.

While working on "fish", he vowed to be more true to the emotions and experiences he'd endured. Being true to those fractured, discordant feelings requires a prismatic approach. And so you get fish's exhilarating hairpin turns: from downtempo dub ("bora bora") to 808s rattling through a haunted house ("tourniquet"), beats that sound as if they're molting into new shapes in real time (the two- song suite of "daze" and "grey theory") to ones that that plunge to the
bottom of a pocket ("spirits").

The album's title comes from the maybe-apocryphal Einstein quote, about how a fish judged by its ability to climb trees will "spend its whole life believing it is stupid." For Watson, this meant embracing the cheery first half of the quote ("Everybody is a genius"), but also being cognizant of the dark undercurrents that flow just beneath seemingly innocent misjudgments and mis-categorizations.

RIYL: Sigur Ros, Explosions in the Sky, Bark Psychosis, Caspian, Mogwai, This Will Destroy You. Exclusive vinyl colour (Opaque Mix Hellfire), limited to 1000 copies, and features a gatefold jacket, printed two-sided Euro sleeves, four art prints, and download code. Breaking from the strange monotony and abnormal norms that took hold during two years of pandemic life, Hammock returns with Love in the Void, an album that looks to the future, seizes the present, and unabashedly relishes the experiences and bonds that bring meaning to our days. Known for crafting orchestral works of stirring cinematic ambience, on Love in the Void the Nashville-based duo of Marc Byrd and Andrew Thompson bring guitar-forward, heart-pounding urgency to songs that shout through and shatter the static of complacency. Since forming as Hammock in 2003, Byrd and Thompson have released 14 critically-acclaimed albums and are renowned for their unique talent for bringing inexpressible emotion to life. The Covid-19 pandemic followed closely after one of Hammock’s career-defining works, the Mysterium, Universalis, and Silencia trilogy that chronicled the incomprehensible loss of Byrd’s 20-year old nephew. At their homes and apart, Byrd and Thompson then recorded Elsewhere, an album of shimmering ambience that channelled alienated longing and displacement into avenues that gave way to worlds and possibilities yet realized. Shaken awake and needing to break free of frustrations and longings, Love in the Void pulses with an unbridled spirit for action and experience and a burning desire for connection. Across songs that hammer home the keenly felt emotions of life’s highs and lows, Byrd and Thompson crest soaring crescendos awash in reverb and delve to keenly felt moments of quiet introspection, with unflinching lyrics on tracks like “Undoing” and “Denial of Endings’’ that weigh choices made and circumstances that can’t be changed. Lush and dramatic string orchestration from Matt Kidd (Slow Meadow) and emphatic drumming from Jake Finch heighten the stakes in play, and Christine Byrd’s (Lumenette) ethereal vocals leave mysteries lingering in the haze. Love in the Void is Hammock’s loudest album to date, embracing daring and vulnerability with palpable vitality at its core, and moving into an unknown future without fear.

Close your eyes and merge into Benedikt Frey’s 'Fastlane'. Imagine sitting in the driver’s seat of a an automobile, one with exceptional horsepower and torque, as you stare out the windshield at the red light, warping in fata-morgana a mile down the road. It’s a straight-away, a black top with two lanes, and against your better judgment you decide to floor the gas. No hesitation in your muscle, your ankle or the ball of your foot, which you now realize is some kind of universal pivot, the first point of contact fusing your body with the will of machine. In this moment you’re in awe that you, a human, an animal, grew from pond scum into something so advanced as to engineer this thing, a mechanical beast capable of overwhelming power and exhilaration. But you also feel a seductive dread, an outside force diverting you from caution toward a dangling carrot of curiosity, asking yourself, ‘How far can I take this thing?’ The dread, now a constant, is numbed, equalized by an adverse intoxicating gratification. You feel both sensations in real time, however, rather than take responsibility for yourself, friends, family and innocent bystanders, you cement your foot to the floor and lean your head back. Noise around you fades to mute. Smell the benzene-scented air, feel the wind on your face, the menacing vibration of the vessel you control beneath you and every grain of asphalt under its tires. This mile has now lasted an eternity and you’ve left your body for some objective view, as if watching climax of a film. Past the point of no return, you embrace abandon and lean into fate. The film becomes slow motion, a crawling pace so mesmerizing you convince yourself of an option to eject yourself from this madness, but as you finally let go of your last morsel of fear, you run the red light head-on into the nucleus of a fantastic glistening sculpture of torn metal, glass, oil, broken dreams and heartache. 'Fastlane' may be just drum machines and synthesizers if you’re timid, but listen harder and know the catastrophic reality of existence, a wreckage so gruesome we dare not rubberneck, but afterall it is our nature to stare.

Stephen Steinbrink discovered a short YouTube video of a street magician who approaches a highschooler walking home in Barstow, California. “Here, let me show you my idea,” he says, as he places a quarter on the kid’s hand. The magician performs some relaxed flourishes, and the coin vanishes. In silence, the kid stares at his hand at the nothing where there once, indisputably, was something, until his wonder finds a single word: “Cool.” The title of Disappearing Coin, the new album from Oakland songwriter Stephen Steinbrink, comes from this short clip. “When I look at it now,” he says, “I relate to the kid, who’s obviously uneasy in his body, and going through the experience of being a teenager in the early 2000s growing up in a bleak desert town like I did. I also relate to the coin, an inanimate disc of possibility. And I relate to the magician, an absurd facilitator of sending what is tactile and concrete into the wispy conceptual realm.” “I’ve watched it probably a hundred times,” he says. “It cracked me up but also blew my mind open the feeling of wonder I experienced watching this video became a guide as I navigated new ways of staying in the realm of what’s both real and magical.” Following the 2018 release of Utopia Teased, Steinbrink completed an apprenticeship in the nearly-lost art of Stained Glass, becoming a glazier at a studio that over three years, fully restored the enormous 90-year-old windows in San Francisco’s Grace Cathedral. He committed to his Buddhist study, beginning lay monastic training before the process was thwarted by the pandemic. He dove deeper into music production for other artists, engineering two albums by Boy Scouts released on Anti- Records in 2018 and 2021. Steinbrink delighted in the way these pursuits pulled at the thread of ego’s tapestry and decentralized him from his craft, allowing him to embody a new role as a creative caretaker engaging in practices that felt communal and restorative. “As I slowly began writing for myself again, I tried to imbue my new songs with this sense of playfulness and wonder I felt while exploring these other interests.” He says. Feeling unlocked from the pressures of perfection that he often felt in his earlier work, creating Disappearing Coin felt buoyant and healing. “The album feels like an integration of all of my past musical selves zeroing in on the present,” Steinbrink explains, “I felt free to explore new ways of writing, through different perspectives, experimenting with fictional songwriting, visual archetypal language, and total collaboration.” This “total collaboration” was a joyous new venture after years of solo performing and recording. The album can be seen as a 42 minute session of show and tell, the manifestation of Steinbrink repeating the mantra of “Here, let me show you my idea” to himself over and over. Disappearing Coin is at once a welcome return for the veteran Steinbrink and the debut of a totally new artist, one who has found a new path to himself with new goals of openness, curiosity, and self-acceptance. “Recalls the magic pop purity of Arthur Russell...its minimalism manages to feel enlightened and transformative.” PITCHFORK // “Melodic and self-assured. Steinbrink delivers his knotted lyricism with a smooth lilt.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic travelling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviours are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behaviour has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behaviour and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

As the void stares back at me, I am consumed by the waves of this new sonic transmission. ESP's Goblin Synth reigns supreme, guiding me into the darkest corners of my mind, as the Galaxian remix shatters my being into a thousand pieces. This release is a frenzied piece of IDM, braindance, and DnB, fueled by a chemical fury that leaves my mind in a state of pure ecstasy. The relentless pace and shifting soundscapes of the A-side are the perfect conduit for the raw power of the Galaxian remix, taking me beyond the limits of what I thought was possible.

On the B-side, I am treated to a liquid dnb homage that is no less relentless in its pursuit of sonic intensity. Here, the rhythms are more organic, more fluid, but no less potent in their ability. This is music that demands a total surrender of the self.

The insidious rhythms of ESP's Goblin Synth seize my consciousness like a viral agent, rendering my being porous and open to the twitching, glitching transmissions emanating from the depths of the machine. With each stuttering break and howling, modulated synth line, I am hurled headlong into a world of ravenous, cybernetic abandon - a blackened, dystopian horizon of shattered glass and flickering neon.

As my mind is hijacked by the rushing currents of amphetamine psychosis, I realize that this is no mere exercise in genre or form, but an all-out assault on the very fabric of reality itself. The sonic textures here are hyper-real, beyond the grasp of normal human perception - this is the sound of the post-human, the sound of the inhuman, the sound of a future that is rapidly bearing down upon me, whether I am ready or not.

And yet, amidst the chaos and decay, there is a kind of perverse beauty at work - a beauty that can only be glimpsed through the shattered glass of my own shattered subjectivity. With each burst of static and each crunching bassline, I am hurled deeper into a vortex of metallic, crystalline wonder, a realm of pure, unadulterated sound that is as terrifying as it is sublime.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic traveling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviors are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behavior has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behavior and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

Brutal Nature Redux is a continuation of Rhys Fulber’s “Brutal Nature” album and art concept, featuring remixes by carefully curated artists. Years of Denial’s take on “Rogue Minority” injects some emotion and humanity into the stark and aggressive original while preserving the driving bass riff and lifting it into the sound of a futuristic tribal gathering. Berlin’s Sarin is up next, leaning into the future EBM style he also shares with Fulber but amping up the intensity and apocalyptic dance floor elements of Central State Institute. Night Render is given a darker and more sinister sheen by up-and-coming Bulgarian producer, Evitceles. The nature elements of the original are replaced by a cinematic dystopia, akin to salvaging lost technology in a ruined city. Orphx add their rhythmic sophistication to “Stare at the Sun, tripping and refining the original down to its base elements while tuning Sara Taylor’s (Youth Code) screams across what appears to be several channels of short wave radio. Qual’s radical re-interpretation of “Pyrrhic Act” brings elements of Fulber’s past history in EBM right to the fore, creating a groove that’s both retro and very modern, slowing it down so the tension hangs heavier in the air. Lastly but certainly not least, Vanity Productions highlights the “nature” of “Fragility”, accentuating it with delicate clouds hanging in an air of contemplation; darkness and light coexisting in thick emotional textures. A fine way to close out this collection of cohesive individualism.

Marc Richter aka Black To Comm released his debut record 20 years ago. In 2023 he is still busy releasing music under various disguises and is currently signed to the Thrill Jockey label. To celebrate this anniversary his own Cellule 75 label is re-releasing some classic out-of-print vinyl albums that originally came out on the defunct Type and De Stijl labels. The LP will feature a full-colour printed inner sleeve exclusive to this edition.

In 2009 the Type Recordings label run by John Twells had just released seminal records by Grouper, Jóhann Jóhannsson and Yellow Swans when they signed Richter and put out his breakthrough Alphabet 1968 album. The LP sold out within two weeks, receiving a glowing full-page review in The Wire Magazine by the late Mark Fisher (later reprinted in his book Ghosts Of My Life), was selected for Boomkat's Top 10 releases of the year (alongside debut albums by Leyland Kirby, Demdike Stare and Oneohtrix Point Never) and was greeted with universal praise in the underground blog network as well as established magazines such as The New Yorker and Pitchfork.

The music itself played with the notion of nostalgia without being nostalgic itself. It's the sound of half-remembered dreams, a surreal distorted vision of the past, an aural polaroid of long forgotten musics, a ghostly voice from a non-existent era.

From the original Type one-sheet:
"The mission statement for Alphabet 1968 was to write an album of "songs" for want of a better word. Short tracks which represented genre points, the milestones which stuck in Richter's mind when he thought back to his favorite records. What we arrive at is a breathtaking 10-track album which, over the course of 45 minutes, explores world music, techno, noise, avant-garde, ambient music and even exotica. Each track is linked with a loose thread of radio static or environmental sound, dragging you through the album, as if tuning in to a stray broadcast or a particularly adventurous mix. Richter has pieced the album together from hours of recordings made at his studio with home made gamelan, small instruments and loops gathered from a collection of ancient vinyl and 78 records. The scope of the album is admirable, but ignoring this, it is simply a shockingly arresting collection of experimental oddities, with references ranging from Moondog to Basic Channel by way of Bernard Herrmann. It's not hard to fall in love with Alphabet 1968, far harder would be to place exactly where the record should fit into your collection."

Mark Fisher in The Wire:
"But what if we were to take Richter's provocation seriously - what would a song without a singer be like? What would it be like, that is to say, if objects themselves could sing? It’s a question that connects fairy tales with cybernetics, and listening to Alphabet 1968, I’m reminded of a filmic space in which magic and mechanism meet: JF Sebastian’s apartment in Blade Runner. The tracks on the LP are crafted with the same minute attention to detail that the genetic designer and toymaker brought to his miniature automata, with their bizarre mixture of the clockwork and the computerised, the antique and the ultramodern, the playful and the sinister. Richter’s musical pieces have been built from similarly heterogeneous materials - record crackle, shortwave radio, glockenspiels, all manner of samples, mostly of acoustic instruments. ….. JF Sebastian's apartment was itself an update of older spaces in which science and sorcery co-existed: the workshops of ETA Hoffmann's inventor-magicians, or of Pinocchio's creator, Geppetto. I think, too, of Auguste Villiers de l'Isle-Adam's astonishing 1886 tale The Future Eve in which Edison, using the expertise he has recently acquired from inventing the phonograph, sets himself the task of constructing an artificial woman. But if there are songs here, they are sung by the gramophone and other recording and playback machines. Richter so successfully effaces himself as author that it is as if he has snuck into a room and recorded the objects as they played (to) themselves. Rather than simply automating his music, as in the case of Pierre Bastien and his mechanical machines, Richter makes us feel that he has merely recorded the unlife of objects. ….. Indeed, the impression of things winding down is persistent on Alphabet 1968. Entropy has not been excluded from Richter's enchanted soundworld. It feels as if the magic is always about to wear off, that the enchanted objects will slip back into the inanimate again at any moment."

The HAVEN white label series is back after a year's break with the fifth instalment of the infamous Sardonic Tonality compilation series - this time with three newcomers to the imprint and one existing label artist visiting the series for the first time.

The A1 kicks off the record with Otautahi (Christchurch) local techno legend Keanu Raves - a regular DJ at HAVEN events in their hometown. Booming kicks, rolling percussion, and emotive synth work come together in this perfect dance-floor killer that's already been making the rounds at Aotearoa warehouse raves and outdoor parties. Following up is Valerie Ace on the A2 with a tripped-out slab of techno weight. Eerie synth textures, creeping vocal whispers and pounding drum rhythms combine in another delight for all club creatures from the promising German producer.

On the flip French production demon Draugr revisits the label again following on from his Nine Nights EP at the end of 2021. Menacing melodies, charging drum work and ominous atmospheres pour out of yet another industrial-tinged mammoth from the Parisian nightmare weaver. Ending the record is the label debut of Berlin-based Puerto Rican heavyweight Xiorro. Off-beat bass, hypnotic percussions, and grungy synth blasts close out the compilation with another certified club weapon.

The return of the classic Demonstration Tapes double LP on vinyl from the one and only Dolly Mixture. Originally self released in 1984 - this 27 track set collects the band's demos from 1979 to 1983 of perfectly executed pop, indie pop and '60s girl group gems. The sound is raw but the charm and pure-pop songcraft manages to shine through.

Dolly Mixture should have been massive - so just sit back and enjoy these charming songs that have aged like a fine wine. Original copies sell for silly money and even the Germs of Youth reissue sells for over £100. This reissue comes with a brand new sleeve design.

Balancing traditionally timeless grit with 21st century gusto, Judiciary hammer out hardcore grooves at breakneck thrash speeds. The Texas quintet—Jake Collinson vocals, Kyle Calfin [bass], Austin Looney [drums], Jimmy LaDue [guitar], and Israel Garza [guitar]—wield a searing signature style unlike anything in heavy music. With calculated intensity, it bludgeons without compromise, draws back for a breath, and strikes again even harder. Piling up millions of streams and inciting the applause of Stereogum, Revolver, and more, the group perfects this incendiary hybrid of metal and hardcore on their 2023 second full-length LP, Flesh + Blood [Closed Casket Activities]. “It’s a mashup of old school heavy metal with contemporary energy,” says Kyle. “We didn’t just change anything for the sake of change—we’ve elevated everything in every way.

"It's like nothing I have ever done before."

For the past ten years, the Bulgarian-Turkish artist Alper Durmush aka Impérieux has been carefully developing his artistic style and building strong momentum with a high-profile following.

Now the young Berlin-based producer enters a fresh chapter with his EP named “Extensions” on Sofia Records’s eight release. It is filled with brisk, forward-looking breaks, raw jungle attitude and highly combustible house. In all this we can still trace Impérieux's emotional signature interwoven into delicate soundscapes and ethno antics.


The place to kickstart this new direction is a symbolic one and in a way - coming back home. In his five-tracker, Impérieux keeps consistent with Sofia Records’ establishment as a breeding ground for hyper-energetic, yet intelligent sound.
And to do the honors, a signature stomping remix has been added by the label headmeister himself - KiNK.

RED APPLE MARBLE VINYL REPRESS.

Everything changed for The Beths when they released their debut album, Future Me Hates Me, in 2018. The indie rock band had long been nurtured within Auckland, New Zealand’s tight-knit music scene, working full-time during the day and playing music with friends after hours. Full of uptempo pop rock songs with bright, indelible hooks, the LP garnered them critical acclaim from outlets like Pitchfork and Rolling Stone, and they set out for their first string of shows overseas. They quit their jobs, said goodbye to their home town, and devoted themselves entirely to performing across North America and Europe. They found themselves playing to crowds of devoted fans and opening for acts like Pixies and Death Cab for Cutie. Almost instantly, The Beths turned from a passion project into a full-time career in music.

Songwriter and lead vocalist Elizabeth Stokes worked on what would become The Beths’ second LP, Jump Rope Gazers, in between these intense periods of touring. Like the group’s earlier music, the album tackles themes of anxiety and self-doubt with effervescent power pop choruses and rousing backup vocals, zeroing in on the communality and catharsis that can come from sharing stressful situations with some of your best friends. Stokes’s writing on Jump Rope Gazers grapples with the uneasy proposition of leaving everything and everyone you know behind on another continent, chasing your dreams while struggling to stay close with loved ones back home.

"If you're at a certain age, all your friends scatter to the four winds,” Stokes says. “We did the same thing. When you're home, you miss everybody, and when you're away, you miss everybody. We were just missing people all the time.”

With songs like the rambunctious “Dying To Believe” and the tender, shoegazey “Out of Sight,” The Beths reckon with the distance that life necessarily drives between people over time. People who love each other inevitably fail each other. “I’m sorry for the way that I can’t hold conversations/They’re such a fragile thing to try to support the weight of,” Stokes sings on “Dying to Believe.” The best way to repair that failure, in The Beths’ view, is with abundant and unconditional love, no matter how far it has to travel. On “Out of Sight,” she pledges devotion to a dearly missed friend: “If your world collapses/I’ll be down in the rubble/I’d build you another,” she sings.

“It was a rough year in general, and I found myself saying the words, 'wish you were here, wish I was there,’ over and over again,” she says of the time period in which the album was written. Touring far from home, The Beths committed themselves to taking care of each other as they were trying at the same time to take care of friends living thousands of miles away. They encouraged each other to communicate whenever things got hard, and to pay forward acts of kindness whenever they could. That care and attention shines through on Jump Rope Gazers, where the quartet sounds more locked in than ever. Their most emotive and heartfelt work to date, Jump Rope Gazers stares down all the hard parts of living in communion with other people, even at a distance, while celebrating the ferocious joy that makes it all worth it -- a sentiment we need now more than ever.

Red Vinyl

Breaking from the strange monotony and abnormal norms that took hold during two years of pandemic life, Hammock returns with Love in the Void , an album that looks to the future, seizes the present, and unabashedly relishes the experiences and bonds that bring meaning to our days. Known for crafting orchestral works of stirring cinematic ambience, on Love in the Void the Nashville-based duo of Marc Byrd and Andrew Thompson bring guitar-forward, heart-pounding urgency to songs that shout through and shatter the static of complacency. Since forming as Hammock in 2003, Byrd and Thompson have released 14 critically-acclaimed albums, and are renowned for their unique talent for bringing inexpressible emotion to life. The Covid-19 pandemic followed closely after one of Hammock's career-defining works, the Mysterium, Universalis, and Silencia trilogy that chronicled the incomprehensible loss of Byrd's 20-year- old nephew. At their homes and apart, Byrd and Thompson then recorded Elsewhere, an album of shimmering ambience that channeled alienated longing and displacement into avenues that gave way to worlds and possibilities yet realized. Shaken awake and needing to break free of frustrations and longings, Love in the Void pulses with an unbridled spirit for action and experience and a burning desire for connection Across songs that hammer home the keenly felt emotions of life's highs and lows, Byrd and Thompson crest soaring crescendos awash in reverb and delve to keenly felt moments of quiet introspection, with unflinching lyrics on tracks like "Undoing" and "Denial of Endings'' that weigh choices made and circumstances that can't be changed. Lush and dramatic string orchestration from Matt Kidd (Slow Meadow) and emphatic drumming from Jake Finch heighten the stakes in play, and Christine Byrd's (Lumenette) ethereal vocals leave mysteries lingering in the haze. Love in the Void is Hammock's loudest album to date, embracing daring and vulnerability with palpable vitality at its core, and moving into an unknown future without fear.

Vandermeer spielen Shoegaze mit Rock-Einflu?ssen. Während der Coronapandemie schrieben sie ihr drittes Album "Grand Bruit" statt zu touren. Die Songs handeln von persönlichen Rückschlägen, politischen Entwicklungen (die Corona-Leugner-Problematik), Verlustängsten, einer intimen Auseinandersetzung mit Social Distancing und dem Alleinsein, während man mit den meisten Maßnahmen konform ist. Die Fassungslosigkeit gegenüber den Egoismen, den Demonstrationen der Corona-Leugner, dem Zuwachs der Neuen Rechten. Eine Wut, eine Fassungslosigkeit, ein Aufstehen, ein Dagegenhalten - das ist "Grand Bruit".

Emanating from a ‘prehistoric’ existence near the end of the last millennium, Andy Votel and his slightly older college mates were once best recognised in Mancunian clubs and bars as teenage vinyl nerds and bum-fluffed battle rappers under the collective name Violators Of The English Language (which in acronymic form explains Andy’s own exotic pen-name).

As steadfast supporters of the 1980s / 90s Brit-core rap scene coming out of London, the multicultural Violators’ Mancunian accents were perhaps a bridge-too-far to secure dream job contracts for humble labels like Kold Sweat and Music Of Life. An unlikely constructive meeting with Gang Starr’s DJ Premier (while Andy helped out at a radio station), plus playing warm up DJ sets for countless US rap heroes might have temporarily added inspirational fuel to the fire, but after an active period combining graffiti, rapping, scratching, obsessive record digging and beat making into their daily operations, adulthood eventually began to rear its unwelcome head.

A decade later, Andy Votel and his digging skills would begin to provide direct sample material for the likes of Madlib, Mos Def, Jay Z, Nas, Dr Dre, Ghostface Killa and Action Bronson, amongst others, and the Violators’ black book of breakbeats and catalogue numbers soon began to feed a same-butdifferent rap beast.

For a project that has taken thirty years, it would be totally inadequate to call the formation of Hypocritical Beatdown Records a lockdown-project. There’s a deep history and psychology in these records by Violators Of The English Language and their spin-off groups Magnets (Rap Group) and ProVerbs, that combines stage-fright, loss, pride, creative-schizophrenia, racial inequality, surrealism, personal politics, brotherhood, artistic-constipation, better judgment, love, anti-love, soul searching and much more.

As well as Andy Votel taking care of both production and part of the microphone duties, some might recognise fellow MC and solo recording artist Figure Of Speech as a prominent voice here. The trio of Magnets (Rap Group) sees Andy also joined by local B-Girl legend Jeni Chan aka Penny Chew, and rapper and DJ Benjamin Hatton who has previously recorded with Kid Acne, The Mongrels and Sheffield’s Invisible Spies’ long-running squadron. Widely respected visual artist Rick Myers (now living in Massachusetts) also contributed scratches for many of these recordings via file sharing and custom dub-plates to keep the Violators’ authentic line-up intact, as well as galvanising the crew’s semi-reluctant art-school roots.

Extra production credits for the label also go to Sean Canty from Demdike Stare, and the late great Dan Dwayre aka Black Lodge (Mo Wax) who sadly passed away during the completion of these recordings. The members of Violators Of The English Language who you’ve not yet heard of will quickly make themselves known as the needle drops on this long-mooted debut vinyl release.

MCVCVP turns sound into a stream - In four tracks, they give us a place
to float, a deep pool of water
We listen to what is underneath. Continuity is the world we navigate, an eternal
vibration with all its nuances. Inside the water, there's no difference between
playing and finding the truth "non contextual and fluid " that carries us through
time. In MCVCVP, Carbon and Palestine open a window for us to stare into the
vortex where sound lives: pianos in abandoned rooms, a mysterious voice with a
dress, dusty tables and painted clouds, low light, blue walls, mirrors, echoes
without a ghost. A fine line between mysteries that remain close, the wish to be
dissolved in playful darkness. Each sound is alive and has a story that continues.
Staring are the open eyes of all the people who were. Not a scary one, just the
story of being. Pressed on Clear Blue with Black and White Smoke Color vinyl.

'Night Of The Endless Beyond', the sophomore album by Lord Of The Isles AKA Neil McDonald for the ESP Institute, had almost become a mythical piece of work. The tracks very slowly crept into formation from the lowest depths of 2021, and once the completed album finally made the leap from creation into manufacturing, an entirely new onslaught of follies and delays awaited at the pressing plant. We began to laugh, for not only did Mario Hugo’s otherworldly sleeve artwork visually translate this music so well, but it was an uncanny premonition to the album being lost in space, falling through a black hole, evaporating into the aether like a dream that never really happened. But, at long last, ground control has confirmed contact! It did happen, it will arrive, and it’s not a myth.
Listening to 'Night Of The Endless Beyond' now feels like the return of a strayed friend, one whose distance left us pining for an embrace. Although this Techno relies on unassuming means, there is a remarkably complex and persuasive emotional statement embedded here, insisting we learn to endure the long game and allow ourselves patience to investigate and appreciate the minutiae contained not only within the notes, but their negative space. From its introduction, through its mellow crests and valleys, there is a conveyance of restraint — subtle dynamics that quietly beg for attention, repetition so hypnotic that imaginary melodies are inescapable, transient peaks so deliberately scaled that we mourn the subsequent decay. In accordance with Neil’s ESP debut, 'In Waves', we never feel attacked by instrumentation but shielded from sharp edges, able to step inside the music, breathe the air it occupies and know its true intentions, whether bright or bleak.
Just prior to the album close, a film dialogue excerpt summarizes everything quite honestly by proposing, “The truth of the universe is waiting … the truth of what is … it’s all going to go away … everything … into blackness … the void … and nobody is in charge.”
“…and what do you do with that?”
We stare long into the 'Night Of The Endless Beyond' and answer… “You smile.”

Twisted and irreverent, The Rabbits combined ear-splitting guitar shrapnel with one of punk’s greatest-ever snot-nosed vocalists. With hints of PIL or Chrome, but beamed in from a parallel dimension and filtered through the warped lens of visionary loner Syoichi Miyazawa. First-ever vinyl release, fully remastered from the band’s original early ’80s cassette releases, and housed in a sturdy tip-on sleeve. Includes a double-sided, printed insert. Edition of 500

Singer-songwriter Syoichi Miyazawa’s tale is a confounding one.

He grew up in a small town in Yamagata Prefecture (in northern Japan), loved Dylan and The Beatles, and had very little exposure to, or interest in, underground music. And yet, shortly after 24-year-old Miyazawa arrived in Tokyo in 1978, he began performing solo shows at tiny clubs in the city, singing and playing guitar. His performances quicky devolved from brisk acoustic jaunts to lengthy, heavy dirges sung in a snot-nosed wail over a blown-out electric guitar detuned to produce a kind of sonic sludge.

At one of his earliest gigs, a mutual friend introduced him to Endo Michiro, who would soon become the legendary front man of Japanese punk icons The Stalin. It turned out Miyazawa and Endo had attended Yamagata University at the same time just a few years earlier, but hadn’t known each other at school. In Tokyo, they became fast friends, moved into the same apartment building, and for years were inseparable. Endo played guitar and drums on Miyazawa’s debut release, the “Christ Was Born in a Stable” flexi disc. But while Endo was social and outgoing, Miyazawa preferred to be alone, avoiding concerts unless he was performing.

Despite these antisocial tendencies, Miyazawa came to despise playing solo. In 1982, an eccentric high school student named Chika introduced herself at one of Miyazawa’s gigs, and Miyazawa asked if she’d play bass. She agreed and drafted two of her friends to play second guitar and drums. The Rabbits were born.

Miyazawa wrote the tunes, and had a clear vision for the group, but struggled to get the sound he wanted from the other members. His second guitarist was more of a fusion player, and Miyazawa took great pains to get him to tone down the shredding. The group quickly went through multiple line-up changes. Frustrated with the sound of their first proper recording (self-released as the “X1(x)” cassette), Miyazawa spent a full year mixing their second cassette, “Winter Songs,” on his own.

The hard work paid off — the sound of “Winter Songs” is striking, and unlike anything the band’s peers produced. There’s liberal use of delay on the vocals, giving the music a psychedelic feel, but the guitars are caustic, cutting through the mix like metal shrapnel. The rhythm section seems on the verge of teetering out of control throughout, an overdriven and pummeling current below abrasive slabs of guitar and vocals. Even at their most aggressive, though, The Rabbits had strong pop sensibilities, complete with cooing backing vocals and the occasional harmonica solo. Miyazawa delivers his borderline nonsensical lyrics with equal amounts of menace and gaiety, consistently riding that fine line as only a natural oddball can. At times, the band sounds like a distant cousin of PiL, Chrome or The Homosexuals, but beamed in from a parallel dimension and filtered through Miyazawa’s warped lens.

Although The Rabbits briskly sold all 500 copies of the "Winter Songs" tape, live audiences at the time seemed dumbfounded by the group, and would stare at them in silence. After two years together, The Rabbits called it quits in 1984.

When asked if any of the many legendary groups (Les Rallizes Desnudes, G.I.S.M., etc.) he shared stages with left an impression, Miyazawa recently revealed that he always left the venue as soon as he finished performing, so he never caught any of the other bands…

All of which is to say —

The Rabbits are one of the great punk bands of the early ’80s, but their leader had no interest in the punk scene and always thought he was making “normal” music. They rubbed shoulders with a slew of notable groups of the era, and their singer was best friends with arguably the most famous Japanese punk of all time, but Miyazawa shunned fraternization and purposefully distanced himself from his peers.

Could this be why so few underground music fans are familiar with the group, even in Japan? Why they seem to have been written out of the official history of Japanese punk? One can never know for sure, but Mesh-Key hopes to remedy this travesty by offering this compilation, the first-ever official LP by The Rabbits, to a new generation of punk and psychedelic music connoisseurs.
credits

Anyone who's cast even the most casual eye over their ever expanding catalogue will have realised that one thing Past Inside The Present do best is bring artists together for unexpected and inspired collaborations. Departing in Descent is the first collaboration between James Bernard and Bvdub but their creative conversation effectively started as far back as 1994 when the latter bought Bernard's Atmospherics album in 1994 when it was "mistakenly stocked" in his local house music store. He says it was and remains his favourite ambient album, so when the pair found themselves crossing paths for one night in LA years later, a collaboration was the only logical conclusion. The results are more organic and friendly on the ear than some ambient offerings, with real instrumentation meshed with walls of woozy synths and delays, but no less fantastical and ambitious for it.

Promise & Illusion is the first LP from Ecka Mordecai, following the release of her solo Critique + Prosper on Takuroku in 2020. Cello, voice, horsehair harp, violin and field recordings combine to spin narrative melody, rich intimacy and melancholic landscapes. Composed around an exploration of la charnière (from the French ‘hinge’), Promise & Illusion begins with the sound of footsteps and a door opening and closing repeatedly, unsure whether to let us into the mysterious interior beyond. We are reminded of the house of Penny Slinger in An Exorcism, an abandoned mansion of gothic hallways and inky corridors. “woe are we” twists violin and voice together into the sort of tension and high drama heard in “The Executioner” - Henning Christiansen’s soundtracks made for the films of his partner Ursula Reuter Christiansen in the 1970’s. Then things begin to soften, almost despite themselves. Distortion on ‘a unit has no unity’ can’t quite smother a rising tune on warped harp. The cello on ‘indigos’ - its voice pizzicato with a velvety sustain - brings comfort and clarity. Mordecai hums a line, feeling out the edges of a song in an intimate release of tension. We are across the threshold - into a romantic sort of nocturnal gloom that feels somewhat out of place in London’s experimental music scene. Trained on viola da gamba as part of a renaissance youth group in the historic midland town of Stafford, Mordecai went on to study performance art in Brighton, later graduating in sound art in London. She performed with David Toop and Rie Nakajima as part of Allan Kaprow’s Yard at the Hepworth Gallery, as well as performing scores by Yoko Ono and George Brecht solo at White Cube Gallery as part of Christian Marclay’s Liquids exhibition. Later, various moves across the north of England found her working with Andrew Chalk and Tom James Scott (forming the trio CIRCÆA), Miles Whittaker (of Demdike Stare) and performing alongside free improvisers. A myriad of influences have crossed her path, her work slowly taking shape across music concrète, improvisation and performance art. A more recent recording with Valerio Tricoli as ‘Mordecoli’ made during the development of Promise & Illusion found its final form as a cassette - a collage of sustained tones, ominous atmospheres and brief 4th wall dissolving vocal interaction. With both CIRCÆA and Mordecoli, Mordecai deals with landscapes - playing with the imaginary over the real and using improvisation as a useful way to dream. On Promise & Illusion, Mordecai sharpens her focus and pivots toward the interior over the exterior - the landscape becoming a personal, psychological one - both comforting and strange. Tracks 4, 5, 7 & 10 recorded and mixed by Adam Matschulat in December 2020. All others recorded and mixed by Ecka Mordecai. Mastered by Shaun Crook at Lockdown Studios, London. Artwork by Ecka Mordecai. Layout by Zofia Sobota.

Track list: 1 la charnière I 2 woe are we 3 a unit has no unity 4 indigos 5 study of a flame 6 la charnière II 7 promise & illusion 8 hush now you say 9 tempera 10 mistakes & continue

Tape

In Macrospace“. The monolithic album debut by Hamburg-based DJ x producer x electronic music activist baze.djunkiii, the essence of 25+ years on the scene and continuous research in sonic fields reaching far beyond your regular club music.
A dark and threatening journey through the realms of brooding DeathAmbient, cold, hostile sci-fi atmospheres and an innate feel of darkness, doom, desolation and industrial wastelands covered in toxic fumes and the aftermath of a nuclear apocalypse.
Generated solely and exclusively by a process of extensive vocal synthesis the ten tracks on
„In Macrospace“ represent a sonic manifestation of vantablack dystopia and mind threatening, braincell eroding claustrophobia, an ode to both minimalist sound structures as well as a
maximized psycho-acoustic impact that might overwhelm even those used to stare into and listen to their innermost void for extended periods of time.
Not for the faint-hearted. Listener discretion is advised.

Raised somewhere between Ministry Of Sound’s ‘The Annual’ and early music message boards, Kolya’s taste still extends from obscure tape-only releases to turn-of-the-millennium trance anthems.

As a DJ, it’s taken the South Londoner from Bugged Out! to Berlin – at home supporting Demdike Stare with coldwave, spinning runway house alongside MikeQ while a House Of Trax resident, or unleashing noughties fidget at the closing of Camden’s infamous Lock Tavern. All of which is to say, his debut EP for Ecstasy Garage Disco arrives steeped in musical history.

Recorded during lockdown, it draws on perhaps his greatest love, deep (deep, deep) house. A soaring synth work out, opener ‘Stick Together’ is a case in point, standing on the shoulders of giants like Peter Daou, but with a life-affirming exuberance all of its own. ‘Miss Honey Prancin’ In The Twilite’, meanwhile, is a tribute to Moi Rene, as well as a love letter to Project X Records in general, her vocal recast over a groove that alternates between outer space iciness and snare-rolling high drama.

On the flip, ‘Crying Over Spilt Poppers’ blends the flavour of amyl-soaked Gherkin with the emotional nuance of Nu Groove, joyous and reflective in equal measure. And ‘Jamais Vu’ signs off, its bumping kick pattern and intertwining melodic layers connecting glimmering 90s electronica and contemporary, future-facing house.

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Vessels promise an escape from responsibilities towards the landscape, they facilitate our avoidance of conscientiously feeling our attachment to the mainland. The visual nothingness of deep water and clean horizons fools the brain and delivers a treacherous feeling of independence.

We ignore the truths expressed by landscapes, so we mould them into urban projects for our strange desires. We clean up the irrationalities by which nature constructs itself. Then we look up to the skies, where the abstractions we have to draw in our minds should reside and inspire us.

We peer into the various shades of blue above the waters, the emptiness guarantees possibilities of our abstractions becoming realities. The apathetic stare into neat, straight horizons transforms our ancestral landscape into dirt and danger, when looking back to it.

To be on a ship under quarantine, is an upside down experience, for the promised escape has turned into a forced paralysis. The Lima flag (? - ? ?, in morse code), presented on the outer sleeve of this record, indirectly demands of all passengers to stay aboard and contemplate their escape from the land they now desire to return to.

These four piano pieces could be considered as a classical sonata (allegroadagio-scherzo-rondo). In a recital they are accompanied by four video pieces by artist Karl Van Welden. We picked the videos out of his extensive archive, choosing images intuitively while listening to the piano music. The theme of ships relating to quarantine thus came unannounced but of course, we were in the middle of the pandemic at the time.

Solastalgia was already waiting as a title for the new album before march 2020. I first came across the word in Underland, a book by Robert Macfarlane (2019). He defines the word as "The unhappiness of people whose landscapes are being transformed about them by forces beyond their control". These forces and this unhappiness are, I believe, what constitutes the modern human. Solastalgia, about the music We haven't found them yet, the words to talk to each other about the worrying signs of climate change. Feeling worried when walking on autumn leaves in the beginning of August should be completely normal. But how do we communicate about it? We don't want to be just the next hysterical doomer.

With this music I try to focus on the climate pain itself, gently inviting the listener to investigate their latent feelings of unease and growing concerns about the environment. As in real life, we circumvent the real issues because they are just too big, there are no words, no expressions yet.

This album tries, in four different attempts, to carve out a path towards communicating about a deeper pain that eventually will connect us all. My general method is to start with a comforting melody, full of fake nostalgia, which, after changing gear to autodestruct mode, morphs into a painful question mark.

The first part sets off with an idyllic melody, accompanied by repeated notes, as a far, muted echo of an alarm. The melody starts to explain itself painfully into a dissonant whirlwind in the high register, sounding not unlike Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit bravura. In the second piece a warm Beatles like melody (And I love her) gets confronted with the weird hippie mantra of a later Lennon song War is over, if you want it. Sentences get reduced to syllables and result in lonely notes that crash and shiver under the burden of too much meaning. Like Shostakovich's latest work, the Sonata for viola and piano.

The descending melody of Bach's Erbarme dich, Mein Gott is echoed in the upper and lower voicings of the third piece, juxtaposed to a typical, threatening Ennio Morricone Western dotted rhythm accompaniment. This rhythm eventually evolves into citing the 1972 Captain Beefheart early ecological warning song Blabber and Smoke (there's a big pane/pain in your window, it's gonna hang you all,... dangle you all). Towards the middle of the piece, the music explodes and the three layers get dispersed all over the keyboard in a virtuosic maelstrom towards another painful question mark. The bitter answer is going back to business with a barely noticeable citation of the first notes of the RZA's Liquid Swords album.

The final piece is some kind of mantra, the same 7/4 pulse all throughout the piece. The dampers of all A's and B's on the keyboard are released by the middle pedal, thus sustaining an ever present resonance. Melodic cells alternate in shifting quantifications with small, bell like percussive cluster playing. While composing this piece an image crept up: walking out of the church on Sunday morning, tolling bells enthusiastically moderating the churchgoers' small talk in the local dialect. Apparently I have tried to evoke this kind of conversation, but injecting it with fictitious alarming conversation topics, the contemporary.

Frederik Croene (August '22)

LP on classic black vinyl. The long-awaited new album from the best pop band in Scotland... The Orchids were making sophisticated pop music right back in the early 1990s when Sarah Records first started. Their songs were as emotionally pure as anything else on that label, but they were always a step ahead of their peers in terms of song arrangements and musical ambition. With a casual, unpretentious air they made writing perfect pop songs seem easy, almost accidental, and several great releases followed. The Orchids gained a passionate following: people knew a good thing when they heard it and they hugged it close. But maybe now it’s time for the rest of the world to be let in on the secret. The songs themselves are a beautiful mix of strength and gentleness. They wrap you in a powerful embrace, making you feel comfortable and secure – and then whisper their insecurities and anxieties into your ear. They say: ‘it’s OK to admit weakness. It’s OK to be fragile. That’s where true strength comes from’. From Glasgow, and proudly Scottish, the band shares a musical lineage with other great groups from that city, from Aztec Camera to Orange Juice, Lloyd Cole to Teenage Fanclub - bands that specialise in song-writing that can tell big stories through small personal fragments, that can make the ordinary extraordinary. Ian Carmichael has helped the band create a perfectly produced masterpiece. He subtly accentuates the drama of the songs, with a sophisticated choreography and gloss that never overwhelms the tenderness of the music. In ‘This Boy Is A Mess’ (the first single from the album), the lyric confesses frailty while the arrangement gets stronger and stronger. It is bittersweet and exhilarating at the same time. ‘I Want You, I Need You’ has harmonies as big as a house – but the yearning message remains intimate and close. ‘I Don’t Mean To Stare’ is an elegant version of the song that first appeared on Skep Wax compilation Under The Bridge. Album opener ‘Didn’t We Love You’ daringly opens up empty spaces where the reverb of the drums is the only thing you can hear... and then floods your ears with a harmonised chorus, sweet guitar melodies and sweeping effects. Even then, the lyrical lament, expressing the desire to live in a better place - a place unspoilt by the greedy phonies who’ve taken over – comes across as clearly as if Hackett were leaning over for a friendly chat in the snug bar of The Orchids’ favourite Glasgow pub. Dreaming Kind will be released as a CD, digital download and vinyl LP.

Back in 2011 Markus Guentner and Heiko Badje formed Stareaway to follow their vision of creating both enchanting and haunting music from melodies and drones. Combining Guentners complex Wall of Electronic Sound and Badjes ethereal androgyn voice and multifaceted guitar play, they indeed produced some epic works between Ambient, Pop and Shoegaze, strangely shimmering and profoundly mysterious.
Now Stareaways fantastic (and back then maybe a little overlooked) album No Life In This Ghost Town sees its rerelease and is, for celebrational purposes, accompanied by this EP of four stunning remixes by stunning artists Rafael Anton Irisarri (who also did the mastering), Simon Scott (Slowdive), Thomas Fehlmann and David Westlake (ex Sneaker Pimps). Rafael Anton Irisarris magical take on O Suomi sparkles bright, still with melancholia always present. David Westlake emphasizes the Pop-aspect of Appointments, adding lush synth melodies and light-filled grooves while Thomas Fehlmann lets All Over You spiral into Popambients most majestic heights. Finally Simon Scott builds a Kathedrale aus Klang on Dreams May Never. Amazing remixes of amazing originals.

We all make mistakes. We all have regrets. We all look back on the loves and losses life brings and lament on how things might have been different. In these deeply personal moments of reflection our emotions can run wild as we contemplate our choices and come to terms with what’s next. Hindsight is a powerful and complex thing, and a phenomenon whose intricacies are explored in captivating fashion on The Greatest Mistake Of My Life, the second album from Cardiff’s Holding Absence.

Building on the excellent foundations laid down by the band’s eponymous debut record, released in 2019, and following standalone singles ‘Gravity’ and ‘Birdcage’, the four-piece have returned with a group of songs that, in the view of vocalist Lucas Woodland, are the truest representation of Holding Absence to date.

Inspired by a song of the same name that was recorded in the 1930s by actor and singer Dame Gracie Fields, The Greatest Mistake Of My Life is rooted in a time long before Holding Absence even existed. Lucas’ great uncle covered the song during the 1950s – something the frontman repeats on this album – and after finding this out from his grandmother, the singer decided the poignancy of its words were worthy of titling Holding Absence’s next record.

Holding Absence – the band completed by bassist James Joseph and drummer Ashley Green – carry the The Greatest Mistake Of My Life’s contemplative and thoughtful spirit throughout their second album. Whereas their debut was a concept record about the subject of love, The Greatest Mistake Of My Life’s inspirations are more complex, as Holding Absence stare down love in the face of death, all the while musing on the vast array of emotions we as humans experience throughout our lives.

Lead single ‘Beyond Belief’ is a soaring epic about the risk of loving someone forever, when their definition of ‘Forever’ might be different to yours, and a song that, Lucas says, argues how “love is something worth taking a risk on.” Holding Absence’s unique approach to romance is also present on atmospheric tracks like ‘Curse Me With Your Kiss’ and ‘Afterlife’, but for every display of affection, The Greatest Mistake Of My Life counters with despondency. ‘Die Alone (In Your Lover’s Arms)’ tells of the loneliness two people feel within a relationship long-turned sour, while ‘In Circles’ speaks to the monotony of everyday life and the crushing of dreams.

The Greatest Mistake Of My Life soundtracks the journey of our lives via all of its despair, elation, joy and pain, but never once tells the listener how they should be feeling.


Shedding their skins and emerging into a bright new phase for their band, with The Greatest Mistake Of My Life, Holding Absence are embracing change whilst holding onto the things that make them special. Aesthetic, for instance, remains important to Lucas and his bandmates, but as seen in the video for ‘Beyond Belief’, no longer do they exist in a world of purely black and white colour. Ushering in a colourful new era for Holding Absence, Lucas speaks of a desire “to bring warmth to people’s lives.”

Armed with a stellar new album and an unflinching belief in their craft, this new incarnation of Holding Absence promises to excite and impress like never before. An enthralling collection of songs and stories that tell of love, life, death and everything in between, The Greatest Mistake Of My Life is a thrilling record, and one its creators were born to make.

As Holding Absence have proved, the greatest mistakes can sometimes open the door to even greater triumphs.

Picture the scene if you can. It’s Sunday evening at the Meakusma Festival, 2019. A small audience (in varying states of inebriation and recovery) sit patiently on the floor, drenched in soft sunlight. Fizzy Veins is set up to play - his guitar resting on his knees while he stares into his laptop with an expression displaying amusement and fear in equal measure. He tentatively speaks into the microphone. There’s a lot of reverb. I don’t think anybody has the slightest idea what he’s saying. I assume he’s delivering a joke, but it’s very hard to tell. People laugh. After yet more tweaks to his gear he starts to play some loose, bendy phrases on the guitar, and we are all gently vaporised up Mount Effervescent. Our benevolent guru sits at the peak, speaking in tongues to the freshly formed congregation. The beats start to roll out and the sun begins to set in the evening sky. Fizzy transitions and he continues his long distance narration from deep inside his own reverb. It sounds like he’s in another room. On another planet, more like.

Witnessing the show, as I did, left me wondering how he even manages to boot-up his computer.. let alone produce an album as brilliantly formed and coherent as this!

Yours sincerely,
A. Fizzyfan

Amid massive global paradigm shifts Dave Hartley (aka Nightlands) became a father twice over and left his native Philadelphia for Asheville, where the pace of daily life is slower and it's easier to maintain a zoomed-out perspective on modern life. From the newfound refuge of a studio he built using the bones of a barn attached to his hundred-something-year-old house in the mountains, Hartley has tailored a collection of well-crafted pop rock, pointedly titled Moonshine. Guided by some of the harmonic sensibilities that have helped make The War on Drugs a force in modern music, Moonshine combines immaculate-yet-dense vocal stacks and billowy clouds of effected keyboards with classic songcraft, revealing previously unseen acreage in the unfurling dreamscape that is Nightlands. The surrealistic album art by Austin-based illustrator Jaime Zuverza depicts an archway opening to the stars over the surface of an idyllic sea flanked by both moon and sun. Similarly, Moonshine reveals portals within portals leading to ever deeper places in Hartley's vocal-centered labyrinth…

As the z-axis of our planet tilts away, and a gulf of dusty earth, air and searing fire is revealed before us, Minimal Violence holds a unflinching stare, unveiling upon us Phase Three in an act of pure psychic release. Consecutive of the destruction of Phase One and the restructuring of Phase Two it only seems appropriate that the third phase of the series finds the project reaching a state of transcendence and transition as it also aligns with the shift from a duo to the solo venture of Ash Luk following the departure of co-founder Lida P.

This third EP of the DESTROY ---> physical REALITY psychic <--- TRUST series launches straight into the 145 bpm stomper Flatline. It is a track founded by a family spirit, with lyrics co-written with Luk’s mother and their step-father Mad Johnny on vocals and guitar. It draws a hoarse chant of passion, ".. nothing matters .. I still love you .. resuscitation .. resurrection .." in answer to arching melodic euphoria. Cold (sex) follows down a scorched earth driveway into distorted whistles, detuned melodies and some of the best sequencer abuse out there.
We Suocate on the Violence of Light reveals perhaps the finest expedition so far in Minimal Violence’s particular vein of acid-singed euphoric trance. Its synths smeared and merged unholy, where the drums meddle with the tensions between drum and bass and nail to the ground four to the floor rhythm. Focus On That Form pummels hard within a deep noise volley, scratching hard to rid its environments of any longer lasting lustre.

As ever, the transformative sound of Minimal Violence emerges deep from fire. Denying any uncertain embers an escape route, Luk casts anew from a seemingly unending source of unique energy.

Stars of the Lids, Tim Hecker, Brian Eno, Manuel. Duo Consists of Jonas Munk (aka Manual) and Jason Kolb (guitarist from Auburn Lull). 4th album, 2nd for Felte and first one since 2012. Initially on blue vinyl. Past press by Pitchfork, XLR8R, Impose. Past project Releases on Morr Music, Darla, and more. Billow Observatory is the project of trans-Atlantic duo Jonas Munk (Denmark) and Jason Kolb (Michigan). Initially planned as a small sideproject from their main work in Manual and Auburn Lull respectively, the two quickly realized their collaborative experiments merited more time and attention. Using heavily treated cavernous guitars, subtle synths, and crackling radio transmissions, their self-titled debut was released in 2012 as a double LP and established Billow Observatory as purveyors of unhurried, highly detailed ambient immersion. The release pair of II: Plains/Patterns in 2017, and III: Chroma/Contour in 2019, on Munk's own Azure Vista Records, introduced a subtle underpinning of rhythm, pulse, and stutter among the washes, expanding their sound with a hint of understated electronica. Marking 10 years since debuting on Felte, 2022 sees the release of Stareside, their most forcefully elegant undertaking to date. A record of swaying quarantine temperament, Stareside's 9 tracks thread the needle between hope and hopelessness - daydreaming whilst watching the world go mad in the blink of an eye. Not shy of overt rhythm, soaring motifs, and daunting undercurrents, Stateside veers wildly in new directions, yet keeps one hand near the record bin of comforting nostalgia (think early Warp Records, Jon Hassel, and Conny Plank to name a few).

Limited to 250 copies worldwide.

Croatia's Fiume delivers a full length eight track lp for L.I.E.S., following his cult 2019 Bunker Records release.

Jasmin Mahmić, (who is also known for his Le Chocolat Noir project) returns with his absolute blackened industrial onslaught straight from the depths of the Balkans. Fiume takes us into a netherworld of short circuited electronics, scrap yard soundscapes and foreboding, stark ,straight from your worst nightmare vocals. Barren wastelands, tropical depression, vast nothingness of the modern age, pillaged republics and metropolis' that have gone wrong, this is world downfall music. Let your own irrelevance stare you down in the mirror, minutes crawl like days, horror of life goes on. These are the sounds in your head, try to claw your way out. Recommended!

Meaning all things magick and supernatural, the root of the word occult is that which is hidden, concealed, beyond the limits of our minds. If this is occult, then the Occult Architecture of Moon Duo’s fourth album - a psychedelic opus in two separate volumes released in 2017 - is an intricately woven hymn to the invisible structures found in the cycle of seasons and the journey of day into night, dark into light.

Offering a cosmic glimpse into the hidden patterning embedded in everything, Occult Architecture reflects the harmonious duality of these light and dark ener¬gies through the Chinese theory of Yin and Yang.

In Chinese, Yin means “the shady side of the hill” and is associated with the feminine, darkness, night, earth. Following this logic, Vol. 1 embraces and embod¬ies Moon Duo’s darker qualities — released appropriately on February 3, in the heart of winter in the Northern Hemisphere.

According to guitarist Ripley Johnson, “the concept of the dark/light, two-part album came as we were recording and mixing the songs, beginning in the dead of winter and continuing into the rebirth and blossoming of the spring. There’s something really powerful about the changing of the seasons in the Northwest, the physical and psychic impact it has on you, especially after we spent so many years in the seasonal void of California. I became interested in gnostic and her¬metic literature around that time, especially the relationship between music and occult qualities and that fed into the whole vibe.”

Adds keyboardist Sanae Yamada, “the two parts are also intended to represent inverted components of a singular entity, like two faces on the same head which stare always in opposite directions but are inextricably driven by the same brain.”

In the summer of 1981, The Fall embarked on their second American tour, criss-crossing the States over a two-month period. Featuring the dual guitar of Marc Riley and Craig Scanlon and rhythm section of Stephen Hanley and Karl Burns, A Part Of America Therein, 1981 would document this fabled journey with crucial performances that show the band evolve from noisemaking lout cultists into true post-punk legends.

"From the riot-torn streets of Manchester, England to the scenic sewers of Chicago ..." as the album opens unforgettably with a nameless promoter introducing The Fall, who proceed to tear into a hypnotic take on "The N.W.R.A." stretched into a near stare-down that is wholly different than the studio version on Grotesque. The LP highlights Mark E. Smith's incomparable bite, heard most notably on the adlibbed vitriol of "Totally Wired," where not even the costumed punks were safe from a proper dressing down.

A Part Of America Therein, 1981 proves once again that The Fall's constant rally against complacency was a top-down directive and intrinsic to their wonderful and frightening sound.

Liner notes by Brian Turner.

Prolific punk pioneers Penny Rimbaud and Youth proudly present their collaboration album ‘Corpus Mei’, out November 19th via One Little Independent Records, with limited edition grey vinyl available from January. Vinyl edition is limited to 500 units. Recorded and mixed over the year 2011 and then remixed in 2019 (it took all that time to see the depths), 'Corpus Mei' brings together two disparate elements and makes them as one – Penny Rimbaud and Youth. Rimbaud is perhaps best known as a founder member, drummer, and lyricist of the seminal anarchist punk band Crass. Since those times, he has dedicated his life to the headier pursuits of poetics and philosophy. Youth, whose post punk band, Killing Joke, remains a vibrant musical force, has at the same time become one of the most sought-after record producers of today. Realising from the outset that they shared an interest in the creation and promotion of “matters spiritual”, these two now legendary