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Berlin based DJ & producer Cromby returns to his own Potency imprint by way of the Mandela Hall EP; an ode to the Mandela Hall in Belfast where he attended his first raves at Shine and went onto become a resident at 18. Four club ready swedgers melding influences from house, techno, electro & strands of UK club to twist the melon.

2005's Naturally was a pivotal moment in the history of soul music. It was the first Daptone album tracked at the renowned "House of Soul", a recording studio handbuilt by Sharon and the rest of the Daptone family in a two story rental in Bushwick, Brooklyn. The album has gone on to sell over 200,000 records, with hit singles "How Long Do I Have To Wait?" and "This Land is Your Land" streaming in the hundreds of millions- staggering figures for a wholly independent release.

Up to this point Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings had yet to reach an audience outside of dingy, hole-in-the-wall clubs, dive bars, and underground DJ parties, attended by only the most in-the-know. This was the scene where the band began to flourish, developing the sound that would forever alter the musical landscape and set a lofty new bar for what could be considered real-deal soul music. It made Daptone a household name and opened doors for countless musicians and record labels to come. Naturally sparked a renaissance that is still vibrating today- a testament to Sharon Jones' legacy as the undisputed, reigning Queen of Heavyweight Soul.

Gatefold Ȓșȑg Black Vinyl
Die Kölner Sängerin vermischt auf dem neuen Album Jazz, Folk und Pop
9 Songs, die Hoffnung geben in einer Welt voller Unsicherheiten

"JUJU" drops on May 17th (WERF Records) and is programmed at Gent Jazz Festival (July 11th)



Juju continues the work done on the second album half, with the Terre Sol Four quartet: Willems' voice, drums, percussion objects, keyboards and field recordings accompanied by the saxes of Marc De Maeseneer, Vincent Brijs and John Snauwaert.Juju fits perfectly in Willems' output. Also: in the coherent oeuvre it has become, it is perhaps her most consistent release yet. It's infectious as hell, carefully crafted, packs a punch and more accessible than ever before.



Everything is connected. Not just in the grand scheme of things - politically, culturally, socially,... - but also in the colourful universe of Karen Willems. A lifelong quest for profound experiences through organizing sound led to the crucial Terre Sol-series, four tapes released in 2020. Out of that fertile well, Grichte (2022) was born. A double LP that presented Willems as an original explorer as well as a committed bandleader, it was her boldest statement to date.

While the first (solo) album halfalready received a follow-up in K A A P M I J (2023), another tape release that suggested there's still a lot of ground left to uncover, Juju continues the work done on the second album half, with the Terre Sol Four quartet: Willems' voice, drums, percussion objects, keyboards and field recordings accompanied by the saxes of Marc De Maeseneer, Vincent Brijs and John Snauwaert. It was already something to behold on Grichte, swerving from introspective exploration to expressionist riff rock and semi-Dadaist avant-garde.

On Juju, the four-piece digs even deeper and the results are utterly spellbinding. One of the many attractions of Willems' recent work is that it combines relentless artistic experimentation with a commitment to broader socio-political issues. In essence, the artist tries to set up a discussion with her surroundings, sending out musical invitations to connect and participate, reminding ourselves of responsibilities that are too easily forgotten in these hectic, self-centered times. The refugee crisis is one, ecology awareness another, and it's hard not to consider "Voor De Stranden Verdrinken" ("Before The Beaches Drown") a caustic warning. Things need to change.

As said earlier, the music on Juju remains as adventurous as before, but this time around, the playing feels even more confident, diverse and punchy. If the album opener accentuates its urgency with a throbbing pulse and reed sirens, "Tako Deli" continues with rich vocal arrangements, roaring saxes and sweeping melodies. What follows strikes with vigor and consistency: "Nuuki" is as dense as it is infectious, while "Fuzzy Williams" manages to combine Ellingtonian abundance with Swans-like preaching.

And there's more, much more. Eccentricity and playfulness ("The Woo Woo Room, Dance Back In Style", "In Open Veld") go hand in hand with smoldering exercises in tension and release ("Koortsdromen") and a ridiculously infectious call for connection in antisocial times ("Come Vai"). Guest contributions by Nabou Claerhout, Kapinga Gysel, Esther Lybeert and Filip Wauters enrich the band's sound considerably. By the time you reach album closer "When Daytime Lands", Willems takes you on a short trip through that eerie soundscape-land she previously explored.

In short: Juju fits perfectly in Willems' output. Also: in the coherent oeuvre it has become, it is perhaps her most consistent release yet. It's infectious as hell, carefully crafted, packs a punch and more accessible than ever before. It's the sound of an artist at the peak of her powers, not just expanding her range, but digging deeper with obvious glee. It's not just intriguing; it's inspiring to witness..

Adam Winchester and Laurie Osborne (probably still best known as Appleblim) are Wrecked Lightship and they have an inventive approach to dub, breaks and bass. Their work creates an immersive world full of rich, atmospheric textures and the latest example of that is Drained Strands, a new album for Peak Oil full of fragmented, genre-blurring sounds. The six-tracker is full of experimentation and new ideas from the off. 'Delinquent Spirits' for example is a jumble of jungle breaks and vast basslines with minimal percussion, 'Reeling Mist' is warm, blissed out dub and 'Somnium Sands' is an eerie and evocative world of synth designs and industrial decay.

Lael Neale's minimalist drone pop draws inspiration from the Transcendentalists, the alienation of modern life, and a rich array of musical influences-ranging from Dionne Warwick and John Lennon to primitive American gospel and Spacemen 3. Her expansive new record, Altogether Stranger, due May 2, was written and recorded in the early morning quiet of Los Angeles. Clocking in at just 32 minutes, the 9-song LP covers an unexpected breadth of musical and lyrical terrain-from garage rock nursery rhymes and creation myths to Motorik dance dirges and solitary Omnichord meditations. A brilliant lyricist, Neale has a unique ability to uncover the extraordinary within the mundane, tackling themes of polarity that recur throughout her work-country vs. city, humanity vs. technology, isolation vs. society. This album is her third collaboration with producer Guy Blakeslee who helps expand the tonal palette while staying true to Neale's commitment to the raw immediacy and hand-made intimacy of home recording. Altogether Stranger - a stunning album filled with dreamlike reverie, Neale's crystalline voice, and echoes of the Velvet Underground - was conceived after four years of oscillating between rural solitude and urban chaos. It finds Neale perched at the piano in a hilltop bungalow, looking down on a rare curve of Sunset Blvd. Here, in this daily ritual of writing, singing, and painting-what David Lynch referred to as "the Art Life"-she creates the space for her most adventurous work to date. Born and raised in Virginia's idyllic countryside, Neale brought the high-lonesome sound of her home state with her when she moved to California to pursue music. After years of writing songs on guitar and playing small venues in Los Angeles, she discovered the Omnichord in 2019, which sparked a new creative direction. This led to her 2021 Sub Pop debut album, Acquainted With Night. That album's 2023 follow-up, Star Eaters Delight, deepened the collaboration with Blakeslee, infusing minimalist soundscapes with a heightened electric energy. The album found a devoted audience, and Neale's subsequent tour included sold-out shows in Los Angeles, New York City, London, and Paris, multiple trips across Europe, and a West Coast run supporting kindred spirit Weyes Blood. This marked yet another return to Los Angeles. Indeed, Los Angeles is not just the backdrop of Altogether Stranger but a lead character. The album's accompanying film - created with Neale's faithful Sony Handycam - builds on her ongoing series of videos, telling the story of Neale as an alien in a suit of mirrors stranded on Earth. Wandering through modern-day LA, she finds both absurdity and beauty in our fragile, untenable way of life. Over the long year it took to write Altogether Stranger, Neale vacillated between childlike optimism and existential melancholy. While she may not have been able to reconcile these opposing states, Altogether Stranger represents an ambitious breakthrough for this singular, self-sufficient artist.

2005's Naturally was a pivotal moment in the history of soul music. It was the first Daptone album tracked at the renowned "House of Soul", a recording studio handbuilt by Sharon and the rest of the Daptone family in a two story rental in Bushwick, Brooklyn. The album has gone on to sell over 200,000 records, with hit singles "How Long Do I Have To Wait?" and "This Land is Your Land" streaming in the hundreds of millions- staggering figures for a wholly independent release.

Up to this point Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings had yet to reach an audience outside of dingy, hole-in-the-wall clubs, dive bars, and underground DJ parties, attended by only the most in-the-know. This was the scene where the band began to flourish, developing the sound that would forever alter the musical landscape and set a lofty new bar for what could be considered real-deal soul music. It made Daptone a household name and opened doors for countless musicians and record labels to come. Naturally sparked a renaissance that is still vibrating today- a testament to Sharon Jones' legacy as the undisputed, reigning Queen of Heavyweight Soul.

The Stockholm duo Ella Guru made waves with their 2023 debut “No Strings Attached”, blending deep house with breezy balearic guitars. Since then, guitarist Tommy Galento and rhythm maker Daniel Strand have been joined by bassist Håkan Engström. His analogue basslines have not only made Ella’s sound more organic, but also pushed the band’s music even further onto the dance floor.


On their new record “Good Vibes Only”, the trio pays tribute to the afro-funk, disco and house of the late 20th century. With two original tracks and a powerhouse remix from Västertorp’s rising force Funky Loffe, the record delivers three electrifying cuts crafted for the club’s peak hours.

Repress!

Echospace Detroit is the label launched by Rod Modell (Deepchord) and Soultek's Steven Hitchell, two leading lights of the minimal dub techno scene. And as with anything Deepchord, the entire release has an air of mystery to it. Previously, as a near-mythical vinyl pressing with minimal packaging and restricted pressings, everything about Vantage Isle was geared toward the underground, or 'those who know.' However, there's nothing but love of craft driving these grooves, and now a lot more people will finally be able to hear this absolutely brilliant collection of spacial dub wonder on CD. Vantage Isle Sessions consists of a whopping 13 takes of the title track, reworked by Modell and Hitchell in various guises (cv313, Deepchord, Echospace, Spacecho), as well as a guest spot (and first ever remix) from Gerard Hanson (Convextion). Across their 13 versions, Modell and Hitchell manage to take the Deepchord template (analog synths, deep bass, gently throbbing beats, bursts of static and noise, and deep, deep chords) into a surprising variety of directions, akin to looking at the same giant glacier from a helicopter from every angle possible: some are beatless and undulating, some are pulsing and dynamic, some are looking up from under the ice and some are towering overhead. The aforementioned Convextion version is revelatory. It's built on cascading and echoing pieces of the original that are layered like shifting sands, for a distinctly dark and shimmering journey to the bottom of the frozen ocean and back. It's remarkable enough to get all these takes on one basic template to sound somewhat different, given that the source material is really just a skeletal array of sound sheets. Vantage Isle Sessions is for anyone looking for the logical successors to the Basic Channel throne, or just looking for something mellow for those steamy late summer nights. A stone-cold classic of the genre. Don't miss it." -Todd Hutlock, Stylus Magazine/Beatz by the Pound

"Steeped in mystery, Detroit musicians Rod Modell and Mike Schommer (aka Deepchord) are legendary for their hard to find twelve-inch dub techno releases. Their sound is heavily influenced by Berlin dub techno producers like Maurizio, Basic Channel, Chain Reaction, Rhythm & Sound, Blue Train and Pole. While the German sound often has a futuristic metallic edge, Deepchord are known more for the rust and grease, which is part and parcel of those metal parts. Static, analog sounds, deep bass thumps and, of course, deep chords blend in a timeless minimal manner. However, the real gems on this disc are the drifty ambient cuts devoid of beats. This is an excellent album that is on par with the classics from a decade ago!" -Exclaim


"In terms of ambient dub, if Basic Channel is the Father (the source, remote and inaccessible and very powerful) and Pole is the Son (dazzling but ultimately stranded halfway between man and the divine), than Rod Modell’s Deepchord and his Echospace label he run with Steve Hitchell is definitely the Holy Spirit." -Popmatters


"Deepchord’s dub-techno stealthily peels away melody, leaving a bare chassis of beats to ghost-ride down Woodward Avenue. Vantage Isle Sessions, which collects remixes of a 2002 Detroit Electronic Music Festival performance, finds the duo swerving through empty, neon-smeared streets, and recalls Berlin’s Chain Reaction label, minus the anemic minimalism." -XLR8R

"The album scales a magnificent peak in “Spacecho Dub II - Extended Mix” when smeary chords ricochet over a massively deep, bass-heavy pulse, and Hanson's light-speed missile of vaporous propulsion (“Convextion Remix”) is beautiful too.
Long may they run." -Textura

‘Vantage Isle’ is a tremendous achievement that will most likely be held up as a high water mark of the genre for years to come." -Resident Advisor

"My favorite mix is by Convextion (his first remix for another artist). Reedy, distant synth tones sound like a science fiction soundtrack overheard rooms away. An undercurrent of echoes, many difficult to describe, drift in a sonic syrup." -Gridface

"Modell’s music always seems to be in this suspended animation, adrift and afloat in a majestic emptiness." -Dusted Mag

CREDITS:
Written & Produced by Deepchord. Redesigned and Reshaped by Convextion (Gerard Hanson) cv313 (Stephen Hitchell) echospace / spacecho (Rod Modell + Stephen Hitchell)
Additional Mastering, Mixing and Engineering by Ron Murphy @ NSC Mastering, Detroit, USA. Side E/F Remastering and Lacquer cutting by Dietrich @ Complete, NYC, USA. (2018)

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

'Through Today' is the sophomore album for rising Australian band Chimers. A husband / wife duo comprising life partners Padraic Skehan (vocals / guitar) and Binx (drums / vocals). Recorded by Jono Boulet (Party Dozen) over two days at Stranded Studios, Wollongong and mixed at Boulet’s Sydney home studio, produced by the band and veteran manager / promoter / producer Tim Pittman (Feel Presents), 'Through Today' features ten tracks of tightly-coiled intensity that barely lets up for all of its 34 mins. In enlisting Boulet, the band were confident that due to his own experience of being one half of Party Dozen, they had someone who understood the confines of working within the structure of a two-piece but also the possibilities that creates. Boulet, in turn, rewarding that trust by capturing a powerful bedrock of sound that allowed the band's taught rhythms to circle and permeate and yet give full breathing space for the melody within. For Pittman’s part, having a third ear on hand to devote serious listening time and critical commentary was an added bonus. It’s a major step forward from the band’s 2021 self-titled debut. A twelve track effort that snuck out during covid and only hinted at the power within. "Our debut felt more like just trying to capture the songs we had at the time, we weren’t sure if we’d even release it or if it would be our only album" "This time around we were intent on capturing the energy and intensity of our live show on the recording but with a more produced sound than self-titled. We worked more on song structure previous to the sessions. We rehearsed a lot playing quietly so we could actually talk to each other whilst playing the song and iron out any kinks.” “Jono turned the whole live room into a drum room, mics everywhere. The guitar amps were situated outside to prevent too much spill but still recorded live along with about half of the vocals. Second guitar and the rest of the vocals were recorded the next day. Jono was super quick and had the same work ethic and mindset, get in, get it done. If the first take was good enough, move on.” - Padraic Lyrically Chimers maintain the intensity as they tackle the themes of love, life, death and relationships, distance from home (Padraic is Irish, moving to Australia in 2001) and the current political climate providing enough drama to fuel a forest fire. Guest musicians on the album include saxophonist Kirsty Tickle - also of Party Dozen - and violinist Jordan Ireland of The Middle East. Both of whom were invited in on short notice adding their respective parts in just 1-2 takes each without any prior knowledge of the material. Binx too showing added versatility contributing lead vocals to An Echo and sharing lead across 3AM, Generator and others. “Singing is not something that comes naturally to me, and it was at the last minute before we went into the studio that Padraic suggested I sing the lead in An Echo. Having very minimal musical instruments within the band I think having the two different vocals adds a nice dynamic to the record.” - Binx 'Through Today' is a great album. Solid and confident from the get go. No waste. No unnecessary fat. Should it be Chimers last it would remain a defining statement of originality and intent. But it’s not the last, it’s just the beginning. And there’s plenty more where that came from. BIO Like many good bands Chimers are a band born of isolation, not geographically though, via the pandemic. Irish born Padraic Skehan and his life partner Binx, formed the band in their Wollongong backyard during the initial lockdown of 2020. Veterans and drummers both of the ‘Gong’s vibrant garage-scene – The Pink Fits, The Drop Offs, Evol and more – Chimers is an altogether different beast, Padraic taking a giant leap forward by removing himself from the back-seat and assuming the role of driver; singing, playing guitar and writing the songs that would eventually become their 2021 self-titled debut album. It’s a sound and album that draws heavily on Skehan’s time as a youth in Ireland and the post-hardcore sounds of Dischord Records, Husker Du, The Wipers and which has seen the band find friends and favour in like-minds The Mark Of Cain, Henry Rollins, Guy Picciotto and Mudhoney. This is no mere nostalgia though, the band instead landing at the vanguard of a new generation of Sydney and surrounds bands – Body Type, Second Idol, Dust, Private Wives, R.M.F.C – borrowing from the past in order to create a future.

13 years in the making, Mr Bongo proudly presents a new compilation of beloved Brazilian disco and boogie finds from the legendary London disco connoisseurs, Horse Meat Disco. A labour of love, it showcases a tantalising cross-section of disco, funk, boogie, samba and MPB, from past to present. Unearthing tracks from the seemingly endless gold mine of Brazilian gems, the compilation features legends such as Jorge Ben, Gretchen, Marcos Valle and Robson Jorge & Lincoln Olivetti, alongside unsung heroes including Zé Carlos and Carlos Bivar.

Over 20 years ago, the Horse Meat Disco crew (James Hillard, Severino Panzetta, Jim Stanton and Luke Howard) began their weekly residency at Eagle London back in 2003. That same year, Luke made his first visit to Brazil, beginning a musical love affair that is still going strong.

“I had always wanted to go to Brazil since I was a kid, and when I finally had the opportunity to go with Princess Julia, I was just blown away. I’ve visited Rio every year since 2003, and in that time, I’ve learned Portuguese and tried to discover as much as I can about Brazilian music and popular culture. I learned to dance samba with the Paraiso School of Samba in London and paraded three times at Rio Carnival. Brazilian music was a brand-new world for me to explore and get excited about—a whole universe of genius musicians, singers, and styles.”

9 years later, Mr Bongo invited Luke down to their Brighton HQ for a listening session of some of his favourite Brazilian boogie and disco 7" finds. A compilation was green-lit, but multiple licensing delays and the release of other HMD compilations meant that it lay dormant for years.

Fast forward to 2024, and with the help of esteemed, Rio-based record collector Tee Cardaci, along with suggestions from HMD’s James Hillard, the dream of an HMD Brazilian compilation finally materialised. It’s a carefully curated collection that includes the electronic-boogie/italo-disco-esque 1984 groover 'Venha (Remix)' by the singer Źe Carlos, two cuts by Luiza Maura taken from her sought-after Deixa Girar 7", and Gretchen's sultry 'Ela Tem Raça, Charme, Talento E Gostosura' written by Jorge Ben.

At its core, this compilation captures the excitement and sense of discovery that won over Horse Meat Disco’s heart more than 20 years ago. A vibrant mix of feel-good flavours, it homes in on a sun-soaked strand of disco and boogie that has been enriched with the spirit of a nation where music serves as a central pillar of life.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Surf Trash, die aus Lake Macquarie stammen und im australischen Newcastle leben, machen melodischen Surf-Pop-Punk, der laut aufgedreht grossartig klingt, wenn man im Auto des Kumpels auf dem Weg zurück zum Strand fährt. Ihr von Jack Nigro (The Terrys, Pacific Avenue, Rum Jungle) koproduziertes Debütalbum ist voller Hooks, Melodien, gewaltiger Gitarrensoli und Mitsing-Refrains. Sie haben bereits zwei US-Tours absolviert und erregten viel Aufmerksamkeit.

"Surf Trash sind hier und im Ausland gerade der absolute Hammer und das zu Recht." – Claire Mooney, triplej (US)

Western Skies Motel, das Instrumental-Musik Projekt des Dänen René Gonzalez Schelbeck veröffentlicht sein viertes Album 'Trails'. Seine Musik wird oft als „Ambient Americana“ beschrieben, widersetzt sich jedoch einem so simplen Etikett. Sie ist eindrucksvoll und atmosphärisch und hat zweifellos musikalische Gemeinsamkeiten mit Künstlern wie Arvo Pärt, Daniel Lanois, den Soundtracks von Nick Cave und Warren Ellis, Grouper, William Basinski und sogar mit dem düsteren Americana-Drone-Rock von Earth, wie René es prägnant ausdrückt: „Ich mag Einfachheit. Weniger Noten und längere Noten.“

First things first - you don’t need me to tell you about the significance of Australia in the history of punk. I mean, what am I, Jon Savage? Google it yourself, FFS. Instead, let’s just agree that the speedy, feral racket thrown together by the likes of The Saints, Radio Birdman and The Scientists in the mid-late ‘70s is AT LEAST as deliriously entertaining as anything concocted by their UK/US counterparts, sowing the seeds for seemingly endless garage-inflected noisemakers in the land down under. No one likes using words like ‘tradition’ or ‘heritage’ here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rock’s primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like ‘Kids Out On The Grass’ and ‘Point of You’ proving at least the equal of ‘(I’m) Stranded’ or ‘Aloha Steve And Danno’. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And let’s face it, you may as well; there’s nothing good on. It all builds towards frantic closer ‘Fill In The Blanks’, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, “That’s the one.” Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, it’s got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goons’ ‘Do The Get Around’, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you can’t imagine your life without ‘em. Don’t believe me? Sort out your ears and get ‘State Of Mind’ in ‘em. Rock’n’roll as it’s supposed to be played.

A lost paradise, a lost innocence, and a lost culture; these are the dominant themes presented in Nicolas Roeg's 1971 masterpiece Walkabout, a survival story of two children lost in the scorched Australian wilderness. Together with other seminal Australian surrealistic outback films, (e.g. Wake In Fright) Walkabout was a film that reshaped the Australian film industry and defined the country's New Wave. On the cusp of the film's 45t h anniversary it is pertinent to observe that for decades the film's original soundtrack has also been considered lost. Composed and conducted by the acclaimed British film composer John Barry, the score is a hallucinogenic mix of exotic romanticism, children's nursery rhyme and potent psychedelic experimentation. For decades, the consensus among soundtrack circles was that the master tapes were officially missing with little chance that the music would ever see a legitimate release, but The Roundtable is pleased to announce that this is no longer the case. The complete soundtrack to one of cinema history's most visually spellbinding films has now finally been re-discovered, sourced from the original stereo master tapes and prepared to the guidelines of the original ill-fated 1970s LP release.


The premiere soundtrack release to Nicolas Roeg's 1971 New Wave Masterpiece.
Lost hallucinogenic orchestral score from acclaimed film composer John Barry.
12-track LP re-mastered from the original stereo master tapes.
180g vinyl and deluxe packaging including archival film stills and original press material.
6 Panel digipack CD.

"After releasing their debut album (I’m) Stranded to both critical and commercial success, The Saints followed up with the 1978 album Eternally Yours. The set features some of their most popular tracks to this day, including “Know Your Product”, “Private Affair”, and “This Perfect Day”. Eternally Yours is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on pink coloured vinyl and includes an insert.

Black Truffle is thrilled to begin 2025 with a rare solo release from Konrad Sprenger, alias of elusive Berlin composer-producer-instrument builder Jörg Hiller. A prolific collaborator, Sprenger has worked extensively with icons of American minimalism such as Ellen Fullman (with whom her recorded the gloriously eccentric song album Ort) and Arnold Dreyblatt (as a core member of the Orchestra of Excited Strings since 2009), as well as releasing their music on his impeccably curated label, Choose. As an instrument builder and installation artist, he has overseen the creation of a computer-controlled multi-channel electric guitar and, with Phillip Sollmann, a modular pipe organ system designed to be reconfigured from space to space.

In much of Hiller’s work, a scientific approach to acoustic phenomena co-exists with a pop sensibility and a sly sense of humour. Nowhere is this unique combination more in evidence than in his slim body of solo work, beginning with the startling diversity of instrumentation and compositional approaches heard on the short pieces of Miniaturen (2006) and Versprochen (2009), followed by the more single-minded exploration of the computer-controlled electric guitar on Stack Music (2017). Set brings together these various strands of Sprenger’s work into a wildly infectious, playful epic, performed by the composer and the mysterious Ensemble Risonanze Moderne. On the LP’s second side, we are also treated to a guest appearance from longtime collaborator Oren Ambarchi, on whose recent solo releases Simian Angel and Shebang Sprenger has made key production contributions. Ambarchi’s signature stuttering, swirling harmonics weave through a sparkling assemblage of electric guitars, acoustic instruments, percussion and electronics—though, given the deft use that much of Sprenger’s recent production work makes of midi-controlled sampled instrumentation, it’s anyone’s guess where the acoustic ends and the digital begins here.

As soon as the needle drops on the first side, we are inside a musical world that Set will inhabit for its 33 minutes: sparkling guitar harmonics and palm-muted notes, tuned percussion, crisp electronic drum hits, flashes of horns, and untraceable bursts of synthetic sound are arranged into a skittering polyrhythmic framework calling up the detail-rich percussive constructions of contemporary techno filtered through the pointillism of the post-serialist European avant-garde. Behind this shifting mist of particulate sound, winds and strings sound out held chords, reminiscent of Arthur Russell’s Tower of Meaning in their epic yet seemingly aimless drift. The relationship between elements is mysterious, appearing both carefully considered and almost random. Though never straying too far from where it begins, as the piece moves along, it spotlights increasingly bizarre instrument choices (shakuhachi and steel drums, anyone?) as well as momentary liftoffs into motorik propulsion. Set is a fascinating, mercurial thing: at once propulsive and fragmented, essentially static in form yet ever-changing in detail, unabashedly egghead in its construction yet sure to get the feet tapping.