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"Sun" ist das erste Album der aus Tennessee stammenden Baritonsaxophonistin Zoh Amba für das in Oslo ansässige Label Smalltown Supersound - und ihr zweites Album nach "Oh Sun", das 2022 auf dem Label Tzadik erschienen ist. Auf "Sun" stellt Amba eine neu zusammengestellte Gruppe mit einer Reihe von Kompositionen vor, die die Grenze zwischen Performance und Prozess verwischen - wobei sich sowohl die Musik als auch der Akt ihrer Aufnahme in Echtzeit entfalten, teilweise geleitet von improvisatorischen Aufnahmetechniken. Als Bandleaderin bewegt sich Amba an den Rändern eines improvisatorischen Deltas, in dem spiritueller Jazz und Free Folk nicht als getrennte Genres auftreten, sondern als Nebenflüsse derselben Strömung, die beide aus einem gemeinsamen Glauben an die Musik als heilige Kraft entspringen. Die Entscheidung, "Sun" auf Smalltown Supersound zu veröffentlichen, entstand aus einer gemeinsamen Verbindung zum verstorbenen deutschen Saxophonisten Peter Brötzmann, der sowohl ein spiritueller Mentor für Amba war als auch mehrere Platten auf dem Label veröffentlicht hat. Und während das Album in amerikanischen Folk-Traditionen verwurzelt ist, ist es Brötzmanns furchtloser Geist - selbst ein immenser historischer Katalysator für den europäischen Free Jazz -, der wie ein roter Faden durch die musikalische Zusammenarbeit des Ensembles und seine experimentellen Aufnahmetechniken verläuft. Für Amba war es jedoch wichtig, dass das Ensemble - bestehend aus Caroline Morton (Bass), Lex Korton (Piano) und Miguel Marcel Russel (Percussion) - vor den Aufnahmen eine tiefere musikalische Verbindung aufbauen konnte: ,Wir haben tagelang einfach nur zusammen gespielt, und ich habe versucht, mir mental Notizen zu machen, was in dieser Band ganz natürlich vorhanden war - bevor ich Anweisungen gab oder Noten austeilte. Ich wollte sehen, wo wir alle in diesem Moment in unserem Leben standen. Von dort aus begann ich, mit ihnen den Prozess zu gestalten. So entstanden die Struktur der Band und der Ansatz für das Album."

Ein dynamisches und erhabenes Werk voller Emotionen und Sensibilität, "From Where You Came" als eine Reihe nächtlicher Übertragungen, altertümlicher Verfeinerungen und lebendiger Geschichten, die reich an erhellenden Qualitäten sind. Die Kombination von programmatischer Musik des 19. Jahrhunderts mit Jazz aus der Mitte der 70er Jahre und ihrem unverwechselbar farbenfrohen und mehrdimensionalen Kompositionsansatz, der die Improvisation einschließt, ermöglicht Coverdale die Synthese mit Live-Instrumenten in einer genrefreien, aber deutlich erkennbaren Geste der Wiederverbindung mit Land und Körper durch Klang zu verbinden. Sie betrachtet Komposition als diagnostische Methodik zu spirituellen Zwecken, leitet emotionale Resonanz wie Ladungsströme und verdrahtet das rein Gefühlte in elektronische Signale. Obwohl sie auf mehreren Kontinenten komponiert und aufgenommen hat, unter anderem im GRM Studio in Paris und dem Elektronmusikstudion EMS in Stockholm, wurde "From Where You Came" im ländlichen Ontario, Kanada, fertiggestellt. Mit Beiträgen der multidisziplinären Klangkünstlerin und Cellistin Anne Bourne und dem mit einem Grammy ausgezeichneten Posaunen-Wunderkind Kalia Vandever, enthalten die 11 ausgedehnten und doch verdichteten Kompositionen des Albums Streicher, Holzbläser, Blechbläser, Tasten, Software und modulare Synthese, die eine musikalische Sprache einschreiben, die Animationen mit ungefilterter, beeindruckender Klarheit wiedergibt. ,Alles kann eine Stimme haben", sagt sagt Coverdale. ,Für mich ist die Stimme mehr als nur menschlich." Passenderweise ist es die eigene Stimme der Künstlerin die sich im einhüllenden Schwellwerk des Albumauftakts in Luft auflöst: ,Everything you know is real", singt sie in ,Eternity`, "I'm sorry, life is beautiful." Als zwischen Animismus und Animalismus oszilliert, ist das folgende Album absolut voll von Leben in all seiner atemberaubenden Komplexität. Coverdale rechnet mit der Erfahrung von Trauer, Entwurzelung und dem Druck der totalen Freiheit und Unabhängigkeit ab, und beweist eine übernatürliche Fähigkeit, die Trübsal in höchst fantasievolle und inspirierende Fantasy-Epen aus Klang zu verwandeln.

Everything Liquid is a brand-new duo formed in LA. This is their first outing, and it speaks to a pair who have some serious studio chops. They have immediately cooked up a highly developed sound that showcases masterful drum programming, a range of organic and synthetic sound designs and great balance between dynamic grooves and musical synths that leave a lasting impression.

Ein dynamisches und erhabenes Werk voller Emotionen und Sensibilität, "From Where You Came" als eine Reihe nächtlicher Übertragungen, altertümlicher Verfeinerungen und lebendiger Geschichten, die reich an erhellenden Qualitäten sind. Die Kombination von programmatischer Musik des 19. Jahrhunderts mit Jazz aus der Mitte der 70er Jahre und ihrem unverwechselbar farbenfrohen und mehrdimensionalen Kompositionsansatz, der die Improvisation einschließt, ermöglicht Coverdale die Synthese mit Live-Instrumenten in einer genrefreien, aber deutlich erkennbaren Geste der Wiederverbindung mit Land und Körper durch Klang zu verbinden. Sie betrachtet Komposition als diagnostische Methodik zu spirituellen Zwecken, leitet emotionale Resonanz wie Ladungsströme und verdrahtet das rein Gefühlte in elektronische Signale. Obwohl sie auf mehreren Kontinenten komponiert und aufgenommen hat, unter anderem im GRM Studio in Paris und dem Elektronmusikstudion EMS in Stockholm, wurde "From Where You Came" im ländlichen Ontario, Kanada, fertiggestellt. Mit Beiträgen der multidisziplinären Klangkünstlerin und Cellistin Anne Bourne und dem mit einem Grammy ausgezeichneten Posaunen-Wunderkind Kalia Vandever, enthalten die 11 ausgedehnten und doch verdichteten Kompositionen des Albums Streicher, Holzbläser, Blechbläser, Tasten, Software und modulare Synthese, die eine musikalische Sprache einschreiben, die Animationen mit ungefilterter, beeindruckender Klarheit wiedergibt. ,Alles kann eine Stimme haben", sagt sagt Coverdale. ,Für mich ist die Stimme mehr als nur menschlich." Passenderweise ist es die eigene Stimme der Künstlerin die sich im einhüllenden Schwellwerk des Albumauftakts in Luft auflöst: ,Everything you know is real", singt sie in ,Eternity`, "I'm sorry, life is beautiful." Als zwischen Animismus und Animalismus oszilliert, ist das folgende Album absolut voll von Leben in all seiner atemberaubenden Komplexität. Coverdale rechnet mit der Erfahrung von Trauer, Entwurzelung und dem Druck der totalen Freiheit und Unabhängigkeit ab, und beweist eine übernatürliche Fähigkeit, die Trübsal in höchst fantasievolle und inspirierende Fantasy-Epen aus Klang zu verwandeln.

On ‘Animal’, Ash Fure appeals to “animal intelligence” by using sounds that are inherently physical and driven by perception, athleticism and interaction. Placing polycarbonate sheeting over an inverted subwoofer she built alongside her partner Xavi Aguirre and brother Adam, Fure isolates the physical impact of sound by focusing on psychoacoustic sub-bass pulses, semi-perceptible micro-rhythms and discomfiting white noise bursts, linking the process to her experiences in Berlin and Detroit’s techno dungeons where the sound has to adapt to the space it’s performed in. When she performed ‘Animal’ for the first time, Fure fabricated a “listening gym”, allowing the audience to interact in real-time by circuit training in response to the sound. The sweat is almost audible across the record, a run-on selection of rhythms, resonances and abstractions that sound like interlocking heartbeats on a series of treadmills. Her fascination with techno’s cavernous cathedrals is clear from the beginning, but Fure doesn’t worship at the altar: we’re hit with the feeling, not the aesthetic. The beats themselves, made from unstable vibrations and waterlogged, reverberating clicks, echo the brain’s unconscious reaction to repetition in a vast concrete box, the feeling you get when each percussive snag ricochets from every surface in the building. Coddling these whirring, criss-crossing polyrhythms with harsh, distorted low-end retches, Fure accurately recreates the energy and fatigue of the endless weekend sesh. We never once encounter techno in its expected shell, just its residue - the outline of humans figuring out their relationship with technology, architecture and each other. Fure’s use of dynamics is also deviously smart, marking out an overall rhythm that’s not tied to the strength of the sounds themselves, but just volume and physical impact. Often her most brutal sounds - ear-splitting squeals and overdriven mechanical whirrs - are reduced to an almost inaudible level, a bit like the bandy legged trip to the bathroom, or the escape to some dimly lit nook, the part of the night where you can still detect the sound on your skin without being battered by it. When the undulating rhythm returns in earnest, Fure masks acidic sequences in jet engine expulsions, still refusing to objectify anything that an AI model might be able to pick up on.

Enigmatic producer ANiML returns to the freeform Los Angeles-based label StrataSonic to release a six-track mini album, Star Walk. The new body of work, which comes alongside a new music video for “Bruv” (directed by Spanish visual artist YZA Voku), is out now.

Picking up where ANiML left off with “Breather” and “Bruv,” Star Walk elaborates further on that woozy-yet-sophisticated psychedelia, materializing as cinematic trip-hop, cavernous dub, and other unique genre concoctions across its six tracks. “Cherry,” with its free-spirited, delay-soaked guitar riffs, depicts a colorful, post-rock-inspired soundscape. “BabyD,” in step with “Bruv,” features a mischievous marimba melody among ghostly vocal samples, a punchy drumkit, and a slackened bassline.

These scenes are brought to life thanks to YZA Voku, a groundbreaking visual artist who is at the forefront of AI-assisted filmmaking in the animation space (see his work for The Weeknd, Swedish House Mafia, Hï Ibiza, and XG). The new music video for “Bruv,” out today, unfolds in stark black, white, and red, evoking a noir-inspired aesthetic steeped in mystery and intrigue. Shadowy figures move rhythmically through dimly lit alleys and smoke-filled ballrooms, blending calculated steps with hypnotic dance sequences.

The production blended real-life recordings with digital effects like blur, negatives, masks, analog textures, and AI-driven transformations using Runway’s video-to-video tools. AI-generated sequences created with Midjourney and Runway were merged to contrast real footage with synthetic imagery. This type of work is a rejection that AI is simply used as a shortcut in art and comes at a time when musicians are beginning to embrace such tools for the visual components of their products.

Barker's debutalbum Utility (on Berghain's Ostgut Ton label) was something of a sensation in the world of electronic music when it was released. Utility made numerous Best of 2019 year's end lists, including Pitchfork (8,2 review), The Quietus, DJ Mag, Resident Advisor (Recommends) and others. It also earned title of Mixmag's Album of The Year 2019. Now its finally time for the follow-up Stochastic Drift on Smalltown Supersound. And where Barker on Utility was "using ambient materials to remake techno" as Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne wrote, he takes this approach even further here creating - as the title suggests - a dreamy stochastic drift and beautiful freeform float.

Barker's debutalbum Utility (on Berghain's Ostgut Ton label) was something of a sensation in the world of electronic music when it was released. Utility made numerous Best of 2019 year's end lists, including Pitchfork (8,2 review), The Quietus, DJ Mag, Resident Advisor (Recommends) and others. It also earned title of Mixmag's Album of The Year 2019. Now its finally time for the follow-up Stochastic Drift on Smalltown Supersound. And where Barker on Utility was "using ambient materials to remake techno" as Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne wrote, he takes this approach even further here creating - as the title suggests - a dreamy stochastic drift and beautiful freeform float.

An imperial phase Actress commits a lushly amorphous installation piece made for the Berliner Festspiele to vinyl, rendering a post-industrial symphony full of iridescent shifts in gyring, OOBE-like spatial coordinates landing somewhere between nutopian ambient, kankyō ongaku and sawn-off bass science.

‘Grey Interiors’ was made in collaboration with Actual Objects and is an absorbing animation and navigation of those post-human ideals that have prompted Darren J. Cunningham to his best work across the preceding two decades. In its hypnagogic symphony of the elements, he short-circuits distinctions of classical music’s metric freedoms and the hyperspatial sensuality of concrète/electro-acoustic and ambient musics with an artistic license that has come to distinguish his work in the contemporary field, and arguably identified him as this generation’s most vital electronic abstractionist.

The first half of the album is bewitchingly airless, materialised in a twinkling vacuum. Naturalistic environmental recordings and a half-heard piano swirl around nauseous airlock whooshes and eerie bass drones. It's all pulverised to a powdery, shimmering residue; if Actress's music is defined by its character and texture - that sweet spot between the bedroom and the soundsystem - then this one advances the narrative without losing its backbone. And like a lot of his best work, it comes into its own on the back of zonked eyelids, conjuring a play of shifting geometric patterns within its imaginary physics and nuanced narration of ephemeral melodic phrasing and vaporous textures.

At about the halfway point, that dissociated piano finds its groove, coalescing into a jerky drum machine rhythm popping like bubbles in the stifling atmosphere. We can draw some intersecting lines here thru electronic music lore - traces of vintage AE, Push Button Objects, UR - but Actress always leaves an indelible fingerprint on anything he touches. Even when he's rubbing against the gallery-industrial complex, he manages to fill a stagnant space with electricity and wit; look at the title itself: is it a reference to the "landscape beyond man" as the installation's press release might have us believe, or the institutions themselves?

Electronic music has never been solely about the music itself or its fame. It has been a fight, a totem. Every week it becomes a universal communion, a celebration, a reconciliation with both ourselves and others. No frontiers, no territories, no certainties other than being as authentic as possible.

As a musician and producer, after five albums, I clearly know that my proposition will always be about diversity more than a single crafted sound. This is how I am: multifaceted, nourished by social human exchanges and my encounters in science, art, and technology. I have one life and different bodies. I can be physical and digital, technological and organic, house, techno, and soul. This album is about shedding light in a vertical period where the fight for truth and visibility becomes crucial, where Blockchain might become our right to vote. It's about making complex things sound simpler, joining the dots. A proposition more than a promise: Unshadow.

The metamorphosis is happening; embracing all generations on the same song with Nile Rodgers and Madison McFerrin! Embracing the diversity of backgrounds, styles, and geography, from Sacha Rudy to Dominique Fils-Aimé (Canada), through Natalie Sade (Australia). As a citizen of the world, having traveled endlessly for 30 years now, I know how lucky I have been to experience and experiment with various situations. If this album can simply share some of the joy I have received and spread some goodwill and white magic to the listener, I will be the happiest seeing the light that chases away the shadow.

Prolific Norwegian trumpeter and ECM veteran Arve Henriksen returns with Estonian guitarist/composer Robert Jürjendal in tow, matching his idiosyncratic shakuhachi-style melodic condensations with Jürjendal's glassy electro-acoustic soundscapes and sonorous percussion.

Henriksen releases a lot but is remarkably reliable; his playing is so versatile that hearing it dematerialise into different ensembles and individual methodologies is always a treat. Jürjendal is a veteran guitarist, but doesn't approach his instrument from a purely classical standpoint, taking a Fripp-inspired path towards texture, processing and looping his sounds until they're barely recognisable. The duo share a similar love for Hassell's Fourth World ambience, and here inject new life into that mood.

Jürjendal's percussion is impressive: he offsets cascades of oddly-tuned electronics on 'Tuonela' with booming, ritualistic tom hits that punctuate Henriksen's melancholy phrases; and on the brilliant 'Ancient Bells', plays a set of gongs and gamelan-style instruments, creating swirling hammered tonal clusters that quiver beneath Henriksen's echoed-out, spirited improvisations. It's not always that corporeal, either; on 'A Remarkable Flow', he loops guitar phrases, creating gentle vibrations that rumble in the background while he mirrors Henriksen's pitchy zig-zags with high-pitched oscillator vamps.

Even on the peaceable 'Miraculous Lake', discreet kalimba loops set a celestial tempo that anchors the duo's gaseous soundscapes. And although they veer towards end-credits loveliness on the Göttsching-influenced 'Reunion Hymn', it’s balanced by the album's darker passages, like 'Rebirth' and 'Another Me'. On the latter, Henriksen's trumpet is transformed into a voice-like warble, while Jürjendal replies with glacial E-bowed drones that resonate creepily alongside his lysergic FM pads.

Free jazz poetry by a spry, 85 year old Joe McPhee, adapting his renowned improvised practice to words - juxtaposed with Mats Gustafson’s sparing brass and electric gestures. It’s an utterly timeless and transfixing salvo, another shiny notch for Smalltown Supersound’s Le Jazz Non Series.

As a common ligature to the OG free jazz scene of ‘60s NYC, with formative binds to its European offshoots and the experimental avant garde, Joe McPhee is a true force of nature who has represented jazz at its freest over a remarkable lifetime. In duo with Swedish free jazz and noise standard bearer Mats Gustafson, he upends expectations with an astonishingly vivid and upfront example of his enduring contribution to freely improvised music. In 11 parts he variously reflects on everything from the neon sleaze and scuzz of NYC to contemporary US politicians and laugh out loud imitations of his previous sparring partners such as Peter Brötzmann, with a head-slapping immediacy that leaves you reeling, spellbound.

McPhee’s flow of rare, organic cadence, ranging from urgent to contemplative and dreamlike, is blessed with a unique turn-of-phrase that surely mirrors his decades of instrumental work. Gustafsson, meanwhile, dextrously takes up the mantle with a multi-instrumental spectrum of sounds, leaving McPhee unbound and able to float and sting on the mic. There’s obvious wisdom in his perceptively penetrative observations, as derived from a rich cultural life well spent, but also a playful naivety and levity in his ability to veer from almost melodic speech to explosive aggression and a knowing, bathetic wit. It’s perhaps hard to believe that McPhee only started incorporating and performing spoken word in his work in the past ten years, a half century since his declaration of “What Time Is It‽” announced his arrival on a legendary debut ‘Nation Time’ (1971), ushering in one of free jazz’s most singular characters in the process.

Oscillating between discordant reflections on life as a touring musician, set to Gustafsson’s skronk and culminating in a snort-worthy imitation of Peter Brötzmann’s gruff German accent, on ‘Short Pieces’ or the glowering growl and noise exhortations of ‘Guitar’, he evokes a more sweetly consonant calm in ‘When I Grow Up’ and eerie threat of ‘The Dreams Book’, and viscerality of ‘Disco Death’, where Gustafson’s tonal versatility comes into hugely mutable play, whilst McPhee’s extraordinary, unaffected voice is a constant. It’s perhaps McPhee’s balance of cool measuredness and wellspring of barbed energies that allows us, at least, to get the most out of this one; not stifling with mannered or manicured enunciation that can trigger certain icks; keeping close to the nature of spoken word in a way that avoids cliche and becomes inherently critical of it within his purposeful, non-hesitant clarity and unflinching approach.

Founded in 1979 in Sesto San Giovanni by Roberto Fusar Poli, Il Disco o began as a small, family-run record store, quickly evolving into a hub for imported music and a pioneer in the "disco dance" genre.

By 1981, it had expanded into music distribu/on and produc/on, aligning with the rise of Italo Disco—a genre blending synth-pop and electronic disco inspired by ar/sts like Giorgio Moroder and Bobby Orlando. Its first release, "I'm A Vocoder" by Gay Cat Park, marked the start of a prolific catalog that included hits like "You Are A Danger" by Gary Low and "Comanchero" by Raggio Di Luna, cemen/ng Il Disco o’s reputa/on in Italy and abroad.

At its peak, the label produced up to one record a day and distributed interna/onal hits like "Don’t You (Forget About Me)" by Simple Minds.

Das gute Leben bzw. die Abwesenheit des selbigen hat die fßnf GewUhnlichen seit Tag eins ihrer "Karriere" beschEftigt. "Es ist immer Sommer irgendwo" thematisiert den in Hamburg sechs Monate währenden Herbst und die zwar weithin bekannte, aber dennoch erstaunliche und irgendwie auch tröUstliche Tatsache, dass, wenn hier der Herbst sein nasskaltes Zepter schwingt, woanders auf der Welt Sommer ist. Man muss auch gUnnen köUnnen! Nun haben wir hier Sommer und ein Sommer ohne Sommer-Hit ist kein Sommer. Da hilft Die Liga Der GewUhnlichen Gentlemen natürlich gerne aus und verUffentlicht ihren Indie/Northern Soul-Ohrwurm "Es ist immer Sommer irgendwo" und zwar nicht nur digital sondern auch als auf 500 Stßck limitierte 7" Single. Ein Song ßüber den Herbst als Sommer-Hit? Verrüßckt, aber deswegen ist die Liga ja auch so beliebt, weil sie immer so Dinger raushaut und so angenehm anders ist. Gemixt wurde die Single vom legendEären Londoner DJ Andy Lewis. "Lege ich gleich nach der neuen Dexys-Single auf!" Gereon Klug

DJ Plead and rRoxymore with a debut collab of rhythmelodically restless productions, infusing limber, freewheeling styles with subtly psychedelic balearic melodics.

After meeting for the first time in 2019, Hermione Frank and Jarred Beeler got together at Frank's Berlin studio, slowly sculpting fractal geometries before finally adding the finishing spit and polish at Beeler's parents’ house in Sydney. Marking some of the first original material from either in a minute, the EP knits the duo’s rhythmic fascinations in three ways.

‘Celestial’ splices a rolling 4/4 with quicksilver polyrhythms and zippy melodic motifs swept into hand-clap trills, imagining something like Olof Dreijer re-shaping Joe’s angular syncopations. ‘Read Wrong’ follows to foreground a thumb piano on a more pendulous, sub-weighted flex, inflected with DJ Plead’s signature palette of drum sounds and canny orchestral flashes at the right moments, dipping like D1’s more melodic works or that forthcoming Nídia & Valentina Magaletti pearl.

The duo save their most hard-hitting for last, sliding speedy, dembow-inspired geometries through green-tinted clouds of electronics on a UKF-compatible offbeat threaded with swooping subs and flighty flutes. The momentum never lets up, but the two producers manage to evoke a mood that's as suited to a late-nite solo thing as it is to peak time wreckage. In other words; deceptively effortless gear that hits harder the louder it gets.

Producer, designer, publisher, filmmaker, all-round scene phenom - Lasse Marhaug returns with his first album since relocating from Oslo to the Arctic Circle, surveying his 35-year career for a set of grizzled, doom-pocked rhythms and foghorn drones pulled from the aether. Expansive and hard to categorise, it's a precision-tooled set of ice-cold tonal productions that heavily lean into Mika Vainio’s rhythm experiments, with extra levels of growling bass and curious noises to send us deep into the uncanny.

Lasse Marhaug has put his mark on literally hundreds of albums - working with artists like Jenny Hval, Merzbow, Jim O'Rourke, Kevin Drumm, Hilary Woods - so many others - yet he still regards himself as a primarily visual artist who got diverted into an occasionally different path. If his last album 'Context' was a kiss goodbye to decades of life in Oslo, 'Provoke' turns a new page, but one that draws heavily from memories of the distant past, reflecting on the way the topographies of Norway's frozen north helped shape his creative worldview. Weaving electronics into environmental recordings captured in the bleak Arctic winter, the album was mixed during the Polar night season, when, for two straight months, the sun never rose past the horizon. Somehow, even at its bleakest, Marhaug avoids the usual aesthetic signifiers for this kinda thing, finding elements of queered beauty in all the severity, juxtaposing elements that shine a bright light on all the odd spaces in-between.

A consideration of noise music's place in 2024, and whether it can still be a tool for subversion when its aesthetics have been so commodified, ‘Provoke’ also refernces an experimental '70s Japanese art magazine that attempted to define a new language for photography. Operating somewhere between these two guiding poles, Lasse feels his way through a subtly altered mode of expression, a new approach to familiar concepts. Album opener ‘Plates’, for example, gives it the full Ø treatment, like some exceptional ‘Oleva’-outtake, but , eventually, shards of interference start to exhale like horses blowing, creating uncanny sensations that hit through ambiguous feeling rather than sheer noise terror. Ritualistic, corporeal - hard to know what you’re listening to and why it makes you feel that certain way - so much more than just machine cycles optimised for their ultimately hollow brutalist aesthetic.

Marhaug paints vivid pictures from a carefully chosen palette, drawing us into a soundworld that's rich with contradictions and contrasts. Even the relatively deafening 'New Topographics' offsets its wall of distortion with a muffled, perforating kick drum, cutting into the noise like a knife through butter. And all of this preparation makes the album's lengthy centrepiece 'Monochrome Head' even more impactful; hinging on a Pan Sonic-like alloy of bass and drums, the track snowballs through tempered feedback and improv scrapes and whistles that pick up into an orchestral din. Marhaug accents the bluster with rhythmic hums that gather in momentum until they're almost oppressively heavy, as if everything's about to collapse.

A masterclass in quietly subversive world-building, 'Provoke' invites us to peer at an expansive sonic landscape and marvel at its intricacies, but this time around there's a Lovecraftian behemoth lurking somewhere beneath its icy surface.

Actress released a mix for Resident Advisor in June and to everyone's surprise, it was filled entirely with new, unreleased music.

When asked if this was a new album, Darren S. Cunningham, aka Actress, responded simply, "It's a collage - Braque." Call it what you likeia mix, a mixtape, a collage, or even an albumiit's unmistakably another bold statement from Actress. Cunningham's approach defies labels and formats, creating music that exists in its own space, evolving without concern for conventional definitions or boundaries. It's just pure, unfiltered Actress, doing what he does best.

Dan Ghenacia's influence on the European underground over the last 25-plus years cannot be overstated. He has run vital labels, hosted essential parties, laid down definitive DJ sets, and produced seminal sounds both solo and as part of the tastemaking Apollonia trio with friends Shonky and Dyed Soundorom. His understanding of house music across the ages and continents is second to none, and he brings all that experience to this fantastic new solo EP.

The bumpy and infectious 'Rouge Ou Noir' opens with looped and funky guitar riffs and neon synths winding their way through dusty, dynamic drums. Cooing vocal stabs ramp up the steaminess of this most tasteful party starter. The superb 'Chilly' has a bustling blend of louche rhythms and rugged synth arps that dart about the mix. They hurry along beneath swirling vocal sounds up top with hints of Metro Area magic and tripped-out colours, all making it a characterful groove. Last but not least, 'Chilly' gets dubbed out and becomes a more low-slung sound with a fleshy bassline popping up the choppy, playful and synth-infused rhythm.

Music taken from the Carte Blanche performance »Monument 0.10 : The Living Monument« by Eszter Salamon. This album contains selections from Carmen Villain's score for the two-and-a-half hour performance, most of them edited down from the long-form versions that accompanied the ultra-slow scenes of the performance. These are Carmen Villain's first compositions for dance.

Acclaimed Choreographer Eszter Salamon’s dance performance The Living Monument is built on still life, slowness and the presence of the body. In the performance, the theatrical elements are equal and interdependent, and it develops into an installation of sound, movement and figures. Each tableau is bound together by Carmen Villain’s hypnotic score in which the audience is taken on a meditative journey through vibrant tableaus in a dreamlike universe. Carmen Villain's score is a suspension of time where her music is seeking a new form of slow-moving minimalism. credits