quête:strange ways

Indian born, UK artist Michael Diamond, co-founder of Vasuki Sound label and club night, announces new EP Placid Wakefulness, featuring single ‘Reverse Entropy’. available on all platforms 5th December via Vasuki Sound.

A uniquely multifaceted talent, Michael Diamond’s unforgettable ‘jazzed electronic’ sound is informed by a spectrum of influences, not least by intersection of the scientific and practical worlds of electronic music. From the music scholarship he won to read Medicine at Oxford where he quickly discovered new ways in which the two worlds can co-exist, his days were spent immersed in academic studies of music perception and cognition, while his nights were spent alongside the likes of Ben UFO, Batu & Ross From Friends, playing at one of UK’s most long-established nights ‘Simple’. A chance encounter there also led him to connect with musical collaborator Alex Wilson – the BBC Young Jazz Musician of the Year semi-finalist and then musical director of Oxford’s Jazz Orchestra – who appears frequently across Diamond’s compositions and on Placid Wakefulness.

No stranger to a concept piece, Diamond’s previous project, the highly personal and critically acclaimed exploration of culture and identity, Third Culture (album of the month/year acknowledgments from Stamp The Wax, Juno and Phonica Records, also earning him a DJ Mag ‘One To Watch’, a Youth Music Awards ‘Rising Star’ nomination and a Gilles Peterson’s ‘Future Bubbler’ accolade) explored the experience of being a ‘third culture kid’ born in Kerala, India and growing up in the UK with a sense of fractured identity.

On Placid Wakefulness, Diamond honours his academic research working alongside world-renowned musicologist Professor Eric Clarke. Specifically how music may affect our sleepfulness and wakefulness, how instinctively we are soothed by some sounds and energised by others - ‘what it is about dance music that makes people go hard all night long?’ and ‘what is it about ambient music that makes people feel the opposite way - to lull them into this sense of calmness or rest?’, mindful of the unconscious ways his findings were already manifesting in his work as an artist. And while his research provides a framework for some of the ideas within the piece, Placid Wakefulness can be viewed as more of an unintentional byproduct, or case-in-point of his findings, rather than a piece consciously constructed in their image.

Across Placid Wakefulness’s four tracks we find the artist unpacking a range of sonic ideas on this theme, from ambient calm to club-adjacent rhythms. The EP opens with hypnotic lullaby of ‘A Way of Listening’ complete with transcendent flutes provided by Alex Wilson, cello by George Lloyd-Own and a mellow groove. On the more energised ‘Reverse Entropy’, rhythmic ambiguity moves to rhythmic disambiguation with a four-to-the-floor beat as the track progresses, releasing tension and inviting an urge to dance as a jazz sax moment transmutes into glorious techno percussiveness.

On ‘Turning and Turning’ the bpm shifts down a gear, a sonic dreamstate where tough textural rhythms create a kind of liminal state tension. Closing out the EP we return to a sense of restfulness with the EP’s title track, where a gorgeous picked guitar loop interplays with vibrating ambient pads and a slow and steady beat. The Placid Wakefulness EP is a captivating testament to Diamond’s singular artistic talent and the fascinating interplay of neuroscience and how we experience and enjoy music.

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

Even as the obstacles to meaningful connection mount into an Everest-ian hurdle, artists nevertheless find ways to bend the technologies of our days to foster visceral human connection, rather than bereft isolation. Comprised of a West Coast bassist (Kristian Dunn of El Ten Eleven) and an Appalachia-adjacent drummer (Damon Che of Don Caballero), Yesness forges a friendship mediated through the language of collaboration, all formed through emailed song sketches and text exchanges of Van Halen demos. The odd couple of Kristian Dunn (El Ten Eleven) and Damon Che (Don Caballero) was the result of some clever musical matchmaking by Karl Hofstetter, founder and curator of Joyful Noise Recordings. Karl introduced Dunn and Che via email in April 2023 after Dunn's prolific output outgrew the resources and abilities of his instrumental duo El Ten Eleven. Less than a year later, after countless text messages and song sketches were exchanged, and one fateful meeting at a recording studio was organized, their nascent project's debut record, See You at the Solipsist Convention, was complete. "We were ships in the night of the musical variety until Karl found a way to merge our paths," Che said of his introduction to Dunn. "There are very few comparisons in the aesthetic approach to how we created the music. We worked remotely for eight months before physically meeting for the first time at the recording studio." Neck-deep in their own ambitions, Che and Dunn swapped musical ideas and quirky song titles throughout the summer, working at a breakneck pace. Star Wars references were intertwined with walloping bass lines ('If You Say So'); non-sequiturs were punctuated by Che's signature frenetic percussive jabs ('Horror Snuggle'). Scaffolded around eight-string bass, knotty percussion, and intricate syncopation, See You at the Solipsist Convention is a carnival of delights for fans of the post-everything persuasion—uncategorizable yet reverent to the altar of instrumental rock. Tearing through the record's evocative instrumentals is a delightful bolt of strangeness, felt as much as heard in the spontaneous chemistry between Che and Dunn. "Occasional Grape?" dances like a waltz played with a sledgehammer—delicate moments shattered by bursts of aggression, while still embedding a rhythmic earworm deep into your heart. 'Nice Walrus,' a string-studded panorama featuring Kishi Bashi, volleys between nervy hyperactivity and heartfelt grandeur. The album's closing track, "Non-incredible Visitor," contrasts Che's meticulous precision with Dunn's imaginative instrumentation, bonding bass and percussion like nesting dolls. Just as the track seems to settle, it drives off an uncharted auditory cliff—abruptly, without ceremony, leaving the listener grasping for meaning in the murk. Beyond all measure, Yesness stands as a testament to the powerful dividends of friendship and collaboration. We are nothing without each other – our partners, our local record store clerks, our neighbors. Music, too, thrives on our entanglements. With twelve tracks, an upcoming tour, and an unexpected friendship stemming from one email, Yesness underscores the brilliant machinery of human connection.

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

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

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

Originally released in 1996 as a limited fan-club pressing for Rockathon, Guided By Voices’ Tonics And Twisted Chasers has always existed as an anomaly in Robert Pollard’s vast discography. In many ways, the album serves as the tail of a creative comet that in just two years included the “classic line-up” trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars and countless singles that crammed endless hooks in their grooves. In the intervening space, Tonics And Twisted Chasers has taken on a mythic status. It’s arguably Pollard’s strangest, gnarliest, most enlightened record and also the fans first chance to see the stitches that bind his galaxy of songs. It’s like peering at the caliber inside a watch, responsible for making the whole enterprise tick. This nineteen-song collaboration with guitarist Tobin Sprout could be interpreted as spontaneous sketches, late-night improvisations, ideas that blossomed later in the timeline (“Knock ’Em Flyin’” and “Key Losers”), but as with anything in Pollard’s orbit, its intention is clear when heard as a cohesive whole. The Pollard tenet that “less is more” is on full display here. The songs rarely creep past ninety seconds and coalesce much like Pollard’s collage-styled visual art. Arena anthems in miniature (“158 Years Of Beautiful Sex”) bash up against eerie piano laments (“Universal Nurse Finger”) without any time to breathe, acoustic lullabies that sound like a Midwestern summer’s twilight (“Look It’s Baseball”) segue into monochromatic post-rock (“Maxwell Jump”). The euphoric joy and obtuse melancholy in Pollard’s voice is so palpable on the album’s standout, “Dayton, Ohio 19 Something & 5” (which has since become a live staple), that it’s impossible to find a more autobiographical yarn in his catalog. The album’s closest analog is 1993’s Vampire On Titus, as it contains that album’s prickly, dark and shimmering obfuscation that only reveals its beauty after repeated listens. Tonics And Twisted Chasers maintains the lore because the melodies are so strong. Using a primitive drum machine, Radio Shack effects, minimal instrumentation and the DIY spirit that guided them in the first place, Pollard and Sprout constructed a masterpiece of pop that could only come from a basement in north Dayton, Ohio. Anyone in that hallowed era who happened upon it, kept it as a secret.

Originally released in 1996 as a limited fan-club pressing for Rockathon, Guided By Voices’ Tonics And Twisted Chasers has always existed as an anomaly in Robert Pollard’s vast discography. In many ways, the album serves as the tail of a creative comet that in just two years included the “classic line-up” trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars and countless singles that crammed endless hooks in their grooves. In the intervening space, Tonics And Twisted Chasers has taken on a mythic status. It’s arguably Pollard’s strangest, gnarliest, most enlightened record and also the fans first chance to see the stitches that bind his galaxy of songs. It’s like peering at the caliber inside a watch, responsible for making the whole enterprise tick. This nineteen-song collaboration with guitarist Tobin Sprout could be interpreted as spontaneous sketches, late-night improvisations, ideas that blossomed later in the timeline (“Knock ’Em Flyin’” and “Key Losers”), but as with anything in Pollard’s orbit, its intention is clear when heard as a cohesive whole. The Pollard tenet that “less is more” is on full display here. The songs rarely creep past ninety seconds and coalesce much like Pollard’s collage-styled visual art. Arena anthems in miniature (“158 Years Of Beautiful Sex”) bash up against eerie piano laments (“Universal Nurse Finger”) without any time to breathe, acoustic lullabies that sound like a Midwestern summer’s twilight (“Look It’s Baseball”) segue into monochromatic post-rock (“Maxwell Jump”). The euphoric joy and obtuse melancholy in Pollard’s voice is so palpable on the album’s standout, “Dayton, Ohio 19 Something & 5” (which has since become a live staple), that it’s impossible to find a more autobiographical yarn in his catalog. The album’s closest analog is 1993’s Vampire On Titus, as it contains that album’s prickly, dark and shimmering obfuscation that only reveals its beauty after repeated listens. Tonics And Twisted Chasers maintains the lore because the melodies are so strong. Using a primitive drum machine, Radio Shack effects, minimal instrumentation and the DIY spirit that guided them in the first place, Pollard and Sprout constructed a masterpiece of pop that could only come from a basement in north Dayton, Ohio. Anyone in that hallowed era who happened upon it, kept it as a secret.

There is propably no single event that has as potent of an
effect on the german Techno- scene as the fall of the Berlin
Wall. A city divided suddenly, in one single night, became
uni¦ed, opening up both sides for the new experiences and
ways to view life the other might have. Berlin’s eastside with
it’s empty, unused warehouses proved to be a fertile breeding
ground for free spirits and those carrying a newfound ¦re in
their eyes. This was the zero hour. The Consolidation. And it
is this mindset, spirit and ¦re of Consolidation that Shaleen
conjures on her debut EP of the same name. The title track
opens up by sampling John F. Kennedy’s legendary “Berlin”
speech from 1964, before absolutely caving in the concrete
with a beyond-heavy kickdrum and a very stripped down but
effective 909-percussion section. Spursed in along the track’s
runtime are droning sirens and JFK continuing to beckon you
to lose yourself in the metropolitan bowels. This is the
anthem of a past revolution. On Deconstruction, Shaleen
goes down a slightly more basement oriented route. The
Percussion shares the title track’s stripped down
effectiveness, but the Groove is more rolling, the Vocal
samples are more distorted and there are sharp synths
cutting through the beats like shards of broken glass. Of
course, a revolution wouldn’t be complete without a mob so
both Cadency aka Hector Oaks and New Frames have put
their spin on the EP’s title track. Mr. Cadeny is up ¦rst and,
being no stranger to revolutionary anthems, has given
Consolidation an almost contemplative mood in his Remix,by adding a very subtle melody. This doesn’t mean it hits any
less hard, mind you, there is an incredibly strong drive to the
track, paired with an almost constantly looping vocal and the
sirens going into overdrive, this would be the track to drive
crowds into a frenzy. Meanwhile New Frames’ track is the
kind of thing you wouldn’t want to encounter alone in a dark
alleyway. The sub-basses are heavy enough to terraform
Mars, the Jungle-esque Synthlines roar and snarl at the
listener and every drop feels like a right hook to the chin. The
original’s vocal is cut in a way that it only adds to the
stomping rhythm, putting you in a mood to throw bricks. So
while this record showcases an aggressive sound and a
mood for revolution, it is important to remember it’s title.
Consolidation. It echoes a message of uni¦cation. Of
standing together. Because together we are, have been and
will always be stronger than by ourselves.

There are certain occasions when you can truly feel the stars align. One of these is when the interstellar voyager of cosmic soul Jimi Tenor finally lands his spaceship at full force on a Timmion recording. In 2024, he will be serving us two spaced out album sessions recorded together with Cold Diamond & Mink. Jimi is no stranger in these space ways as he has operated behind the Timmion scenes for years, furnishing several of the label's artists with his flute and reeds artistry. The first album out is titled "Is There Love In Outer Space?", which begs the question with the force of five extended tracks that are guaranteed to blow your mind to the stratosphere. The pieces are loaded with whooshing and glistening synth noises and span from lofi space funk to cinematic soundscapes. The sweetly floating title track is like some of those galactic ballads that rare soul collectors are spending their pensions on. At the other side of the spectrum, album closer `What Are You Doing?' sounds like Sun Ra sat down at a JBs session, and is straight up meant to get that booty moving. Combined with the raw soul prowess of CD&M, Jimi is able to refine new shades from his already impressive repertoire of talent. Even if you are a friend of his previous work you might not have heard him get down quite like this.

LINGUA IGNOTA, the solo project of multidisciplinary artist Kristin Hayter, takes a radical, unflinching approach to themes of violence and vengeance in ways that are moving, brutal, and harrowing. Her music is intentionally situated at specific and strange intersections, incorporating elements of power electronics, death industrial, and black metal alongside baroque classical, spiritual minimalism and folk. Relentless intensity and soaring dramatic arcs are informed by Hayter's background in classical music, and the major sonic locus of the project is her voice, a dynamic entity that rushes from unhinged screaming to lilting soprano to angular belting with an artistry and ferocity that has drawn comparisons to Diamanda Galas. She is notorious for confrontational live performances that can leave an audience breathless or in tears. Hayter began classical training at the age of ten with intent to pursue an operatic conservatory track. Instead she developed an interdisciplinary fine arts practice at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She continued with graduate work at Brown University, producing a controversial thesis titled BURN EVERYTHING TRUST NO ONE KILL YOURSELF. LINGUA IGNOTA was born out of this thesis which re-contextualized misogynist content as biblically vitriolic anthems for survivors of domestic violence and sexual assault. A survivor herself, Hayter seeks to give a singularly aggressive voice to the unheard, silenced, and dismissed.

"Learn To Die is a bold new step for a group of musicians, artists, and writers that has at least nominally been considered a punk band. A stylistic overhaul. For those who have been following along, it’ll carry some surprises. Slender began over a decade ago as a semi-improvisational cassette recording project, a casual collaboration between a few friends that was initially documented by two self-titled cassette-only releases released in 2014 and 2015 respectively, now both unavailable and out of print. Most fans, however, will know Slender for their two most recent releases, Walled Garden (2017) and Time On Earth (2019), both released on the tastemaking London art-punk label La Vida Es Un Mus. "Their prior work has earned them comparisons to anarcho-punks Crass and The Snipers, lo-fi flagbearers Swell Maps and Pink Reason, and artrockers Cromagnon and Amon Düül. Here, however, such comparisons feel largely unfounded and the band feels somewhat peerless. Moments of artpunk brutalism, lo-fi experimentalism, and kosmiche detours grace the fabric of Learn To Die, but the album reaches for more than pastiche. Teasing the rarified worlds of chamber music and musique concrete, Slender manages something intangible and strange. A vocoded voice intones multi-lingual poems alongside tinny guitars and sampled strings and flutes. Three chord janglepunk anthems arise suddenly out of a cosmic mist crafted by analogue synths reciting the poetry of machines. The album moves in ways reminiscent of works by artists as varied and singular as Nobukazu Takemura, Chuquimamani-Condori, Coil, and Robert Wyatt, but it doesn’t necessarily occupy the same realm as any of them.” – Leah B. Levinson

On her sophomore album "Germ in a Population of Buildings", upsammy moves through her surroundings with the curiosity of a place-bending landscape architect. The album is rooted in her interest for ambiguous environments in constant shift, and the feeling of discovering strange patterns in different ecosystems. Often, the Amsterdam-based artist finds herself zooming in and out beyond a place's most recognizable surface features to inhabit the microscopic and gigantic. Gathering field recordings and evocative environmental sounds, she shapes this source material into vibrating electro-acoustic rhythms and unstable, psychedelic textures. upsammy's debut album, 2020's critically-acclaimed "Zoom", was praised for its careful reimagining of IDM, evolving vignettes that nodded towards the dancefloor without being shackled to its rigid set of rules. On "Germ in a Population of Buildings" her process has evolved considerably; the skeletal trace of IDM is still present but it's been trapped in amber, allowing her unique sonic landscape to develop organically. 'Being is a Stone' is a proof of concept in many ways, layering upsammy's contorted voice in rickety patterns beneath a lattice of fragile rhythms and faintly melancholy synths. It's never immediately obvious where the sounds are coming from - a hiccuping beat might be glass cracking underfoot, and larger pulses could be wet concrete, rusted iron or bent plastic. As the sounds develop they morph into each other, demolishing what came before and building on top of the ornamental wreckage. On the dynamic 'Constructing', upsammy's sound design fluxes through hyperactive bass music structures, abstracting expectations at every turn. Often her sounds are whisper quiet, rattling and vibrating until heavier masonry drops and disrupts the structure. And when discernible rhythms subside into the background, like on the album's eerie title track, they become almost illusory, morphing between the real world and the electronic. upsammy's processed voice works like a bridge between these realms, snaking between stark, whimsical melodies on 'Patterning', arching from AutoTuned detachment into cooing, dreamy intimacy. By considering the harmonies between each location she's visited, upsammy has been able to build a unique topology that's an uncanny digital amalgam of her lived experience. It's a thoughtful alternative in an era more concerned with flatting the landscape than crumpling it and examining its peaks and troughs.

Viele von uns werden sich täglich daran erinnern müssen, dass es nicht mehr 1967 ist. "We All Belong" von DR. DOG ist eines dieser Meisterwerke, dass eine Standleitung zu der Quelle hat, an der sich seinerzeit auch Brian Wilson, Neil Young, Robbie Robertson, John Lennon und Paul McCartney gütlich taten, um so erfrischt einige der besten Songs der Geschichte zu schreiben. DR. DOG haben damit einen Klassiker geschaffen, der nicht nur absolut zeitlos, sondern reich an Seele, voll von purem Rock'n'Roll und manchmal auf so unheimliche Weise vertraut ist, dass man sich sofort zu Hause fühlt - trotzdem jedoch bleibt der Sound auf ,We All Belong" einzigartig. Die Produktion steht ebenso in der Schuld von George "The 5th BEATLE" Martin wie auch Jeff Mangum (NEUTRAL MILK HOTEL). Die Songs, die da regelrecht aus der Feder und den Instrumenten von DR. DOG fließen, sind auf der einen Seite eine große Hommage an die Brillanz vergangener Zeiten und auf der anderen Seite der Weckruf einer Generation, der vom müden Indie ihrer Zeit ganz schläfrig zumute ist. An den Trompeten des Weckrufs: DR. DOG, deren Appeal durchaus noch weitere 40 Jahre bestehen könnte.

repressed !

Gorillaz started the year with Episode 1 - ‘Momentary Bliss ft. slowthai and Slaves’ - of Song Machine, a whole new concept from one of the most innovative bands around. Now, six episodes in, Noodle, 2D, Murdoc and Russel have visited Morocco and Paris, London and Lake Como, as well as travelling all the way to the moon, and Gorillaz is ready to bring you the full collection titled Song Machine: Season One - Strange Timez, out on 23rd October 2020.

Song Machine is the ongoing and ever-evolving process which has seen Gorillaz joined by an expanding roster of collaborators captured live in Kong Studios and beyond. The result is an expansive collection of tracks embracing a myriad of sounds, styles, genres and attitudes from a breath-taking line-up of guest artists including Beck, Elton John, Fatoumata Diawara, Georgia, Kano, Leee John, Octavian, Peter Hook, Robert Smith, Roxani Arias, ScHoolboy Q, Slaves, Slowthai, St Vincent and 6LACK.
To date the project has seen over 100million streams on all tracks already and the band’s biggest period of sustained growth across both listenership and fanbase growth. All this before the album has even been announced!

Virtual band Gorillaz is singer 2D, bassist Murdoc Niccals, guitarist Noodle and drummer Russel Hobbs. Created by Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett, their acclaimed eponymous debut album was released in 2001. The BRIT and Grammy Award winning band’s subsequent albums are Demon Days (2005), Plastic Beach (2010), The Fall (2011), Humanz (2017) and The Now Now (2018). A truly global phenomenon, Gorillaz have achieved success in entirely ground-breaking ways, touring the world from San Diego to Syria, winning numerous awards including the coveted Jim Henson Creativity Honor.

The band are recognised by The Guinness Book Of World Records as the planet’s Most Successful Virtual Act.












j 10. Désolé (feat. Fatoumata Diawara) Extended Version

It's hard to believe it's been four years since the debut release of The Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty's kick excellent debut "Ways of Hearing." But growth takes time and rather than rush a follow-up album to market to capitalize on their newfound success, the group opted to take their time and focus their efforts at their own pace. It paid off.On their much anticipated sophomore album, ambition is key. The name of the album itself "The Iliad and the Odyssey and the Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick" spans a glorious 71 characters and is bound to swallow the screen of whatever device that attempts to display the text. The essence of the album is built upon delicate, pleading vocals that sit atop stirring dynamic movements that seem to move between small and vulnerable to full-on symphonies that are bursting with emotion. "The Iliad and the Odyssey and the Goalie's Anxiety at the Penalty Kick" will be released by veteran indie label Count Your Lucky Stars on April 25th, 2024 (an homage to their first released single of the album) during the dead time when the cold end of winter is transitioning to a hopeful and promising spring- an apt metaphor that seems to encompass the heart of the album.

Cate Brooks is back with her seventh release for Clay Pipe Music. Never one to stand still, ‘Easel Studies’ finds her pushing the boundaries of sound synthesis and experimentation on the Buchla Music Easel while still sounding beautifully beguiling and hypnotically melodic.

"On this day in 2015, at exactly Midday, I took delivery of a wildly exotic musical instrument. To call it a synthesizer would be a misrepresentation; it’s really more of a tactile, living, breathing entity than anything else. It had originally supposed to have been delivered on the day before, but had somehow been mislaid in the labyrinths of the Royal Mail sorting office at Elephant and Castle.

I sat patiently and quietly all morning, waiting for its imminent arrival. I had already read through the ‘manual’, which is more of a concept / design for living, written by synthesis legend Allen Strange.

With Noon approaching, I became a little anxious- my local postie, Barrie, was usually here by about 10:30am and there was no sign of him.

At 11:58, Barrie walked past, completely ignoring my house. Obviously concerned, I stood at the door and waited for him to walk back toward his van. As he came back, he smiled and I called out, quizzically “Barrie?”. His reply was “Yes I have!” and walked back to his van, collecting a large box and bringing it to my door. I remember the weather was muggy and my neighbour was attending to her rose bushes, as the cheery and helpful postie deftly navigated around her busy secateurs.

I took the box inside, opened the top and just looked at the inner box for a while. I took a photo of it, which I still have. It felt like quite a momentous occasion, because I felt that this instrument would take me to different sonic spaces than I was used to. It wasn’t my first experience with Don Buchla’s instruments by any means, as I’d learned to use his 200e system. But this was quite a different beast.

My cat Brillo came to inspect the box and I set the Music Easel up on the floor and plugged it in. The result of that very first experiment became “Pendula”.

In the following days and weeks of that summer, I created many more experiments on the Easel, quite often with Brillo either sat on me as I played, or trying to climb up on the instrument itself, attempting to move the faders and switches himself.

By the end of August, I had amassed some thirty-something pieces, which I put aside for future reference. I had learned a lot about this instrument, its idiosyncrasies, subtleties and ways of working.

Sadly, Brillo died in September of 2015. I like to think that his last summer with me was a comforting experience, curling up and listening to the sonic experiments taking place, as he regularly did for the sixteen years he was with me. The first track on the album, “Con Brillo” is my little tribute to him.

Fast forward to 2021 and I rediscovered all of these experiments. Some were almost unlistenable, but some had a beguiling charm about them- perhaps the sound of someone not really knowing what they’re getting into. They needed mixing and balancing, so I set to work. I also wrote a new piece, with exactly the same recording chain, in the same way, in the same room. This became the suitably titled final track “Hindsight”.

The Music Easel has remained a constant source of sonic worlds for me to explore. It because the main instrument on the album Agri Montana, for example and has cropped up on many other records I’ve made since.

I would especially like to thank David at Postmodular for selling the Music Easel to me, after phoning him and disturbing his Sunday afternoon outing to Hyde Park (sorry about that David). I always promised I would send him a copy of something I had produced on it, so hopefully he will enjoy Easel Studies."

As I finish writing this, I notice that it is, once more, exactly Midday.

I hope you enjoy Easel Studies too.

Cate Brooks (21st of May, 2023).

Prolific singer-songwriter Kathryn Williams and recently reinvigorated troubadour Dan Willson (aka Withered Hand) have announced a collaboration album, ‘Willson Williams’, out April 26th.

‘Willson Williams’ witnesses the meeting of two likeminded musicians who’ve built their successful, independent careers on inventive folk instrumentation, reflective and sincere lyricism, and not a small amount of self-deprecation. Their modest confessionals, written poetically and over nostalgic and atmospheric melodies, are as relatable as ever, and together they find new ways to unpack their feelings.

One overarching theme on the album is that of grief, when the writing process saw them both, tragically, in mourning for separate loved ones; Dan for his brother Karl and his friend Scott Hutchinson of Frightened Rabbit, and Kathryn for her friend, comedian and BBC Radio 4 presenter Jeremy Hardy. They explain that “the initial premise and starting point for us was discussions and open conversations on bereavement. We’d both recently lost friends who were also in the public eye, and we talked about the strange place between personal loss and the communal grieving of a public figure”. Contrastingly, the music on ‘Willson Williams’ is warm, heartfelt and even cheerful, an opposing nature that is completely in keeping with both their humour and candidness.