Suche:subcult

,respite -- levity for the nameless ghost in crisis", aka ,r--L4nGc`, ist Colin Selfs drittes Album, nach dem gefeierten ,Siblings` (2018) und der dazugehörigen EP ,Orphans` (2019).In ,r--L4nGc" bewegt sich die Musik des in Berlin und New York lebenden Künstlers, Komponisten und Puppenspielers nahtlos zwischen schwebenden, unheimlichen Pop-Vocals, immaterieller experimenteller Elektronik und knallharten Dancefloor-Rhythmen. Strahlende, grenzenlose Schönheit und unentrinnbarer Terror sind ein und dasselbe. Unter Einbeziehung von Selfs langjähriger Praxis des Puppenmachens und auf der Grundlage eines bewussten Exils, das es dem Künstler ermöglichte, sich mit verlorenen Seelen auf anderen Existenzebenen zu unterhalten, ist ,rünL4nGc" eine integrierte Vision der eklektischen Praxis des Künstlers. Self singt in Polari, einer vergessenen Form des Slantwise-Englisch, das von queeren Subkulturen seit Jahrhunderten verwendet wird, um sich der Entdeckung zu entziehen, und performt für unsere verstorbenen Lehrer und Freunde und für den Rest von uns, die bereit sind, mit unheimlichen Geistern zu kommunizieren. Für Fans von Perfume Genius, Björk, Holly Herndon, Psychic TV, Oneohtrix Point Never, Lyra Pramuk, Bat For Lashes, SOPHIE, Talk Talk. "respite - levity for the nameless ghost in crisis", aka "r-nL4nGc", is Colin Self's third full length album, following the acclaimed "Siblings" (2018) and its companion EP "Orphans" (2019). In "r-L4nGc" the Berlin and New York based artist, composer, and puppeteer's music travels seamlessly from soaring, uncanny pop vocals to immaterial experimental electronics and hard-hitting dance floor rhythms. Radiant, limitless beauty and boundless, inescapable terror are one and the same. Incorporating Selfü's long standing practice of dollmaking, and drawing upon a conscious exile that allowed the artist to settle into conversation with lost souls on other planes of existence, "r-L4nGc" is an integrated vision of the artist's eclectic practice. Singing in Polari, a forgotten form of slantwise English used by queer subcultures for centuries to evade detection, Self performs for our departed teachers and friends, and for the rest of us, ready to commune with uncanny spirits. For fans of Perfume Genius, Björk, Holly Herndon, Psychic TV, Oneohtrix Point Never, Lyra Pramuk, Bat For Lashes, SOPHIE, Talk Talk.








[f] [CANTING]

Jamwax proudly presents the reissue of Laurel Aitken’s iconic 1966 single, showcasing two R&B dancefloor gems: Last Night and the soulful classic Don’t Break Your Promises. Originally released on the Rainbow label in the UK, this 7-inch record captures the essence of Aitken’s versatility and his pivotal role in bridging the Jamaican and British music scenes.

Last Night draws direct inspiration from the sounds of The Mar-Keys (1961) and Georgie Fame (1966), reflecting the influence of R&B rhythms on Aitken’s work. This release marked a milestone in his career as he gained increasing popularity in the UK, particularly among the mod and skinhead subcultures.

As for Don’t Break Your Promises, it is a cover of Milson Luce’s 1956 release on the Argo label. The song was already a hit in Jamaica, having been licensed the same year by Dada Tewari on his Downbeat imprint. Following Aitken’s rendition, the song inspired several Jamaican covers, including versions by Dandy (1972, Trojan), The Chosen Few (1973, Studio One), and John Holt (1973, Bunny Lee).

Nicknamed the "Godfather of Ska," Laurel Aitken was born Lorenzo Aitken on April 22, 1927, in Cuba. He moved to Jamaica at the age of 11 and became a central figure in the development of ska during the 1950s and 1960s. Before shaping the emerging ska sound, he recorded mento and calypso, laying the foundation for his groundbreaking contributions. His prolific recording career in England included numerous singles on legendary labels such as Blue Beat, Pama Records, and Trojan Records. Aitken’s legacy as a pioneer of Jamaican music and his influence on British subcultures firmly establish him as a key figure in the global evolution of ska and reggae.

Originally released in 1966
Licensed courtesy of Cherry Red Records Limited

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

The Other Sound of Music is Edition Hawara’s first compilation of forgotten Austrian treasures from the 1980s. Plucked from dusty basements, flea markets and bespoke stores across the small Alpine country, it features eight quirky and charming pieces that afford a glimpse into largely unknown but surprisingly rich musical subcultures. The lovingly curated selection brings to light early soul, boogie and proto-house productions, as well as some of the most balearic tracks that have ever been made in a landlocked country. Finally giving this music the stage it deserves, The Other Sound of Music is the definitive guide to the outer limits of the Austrian underground.

Atlanta native Stefan Ringer steps up for a solo release on Bristol’s Black Acre, tracing a lineage of sonic references into an unmissable four-track EP. From radiant, soulful house to wonky machine funk, Soulflow is a distillation of cultural and personal narratives, tracing the evolution of his sound over a number of years. As an influential force in Atlanta’s dance music community - and with a strong connection to the sounds of Detroit - Stefan’s music reflects a genuine love for the underground. He held a residency at the legendary Sound Table with Ash Lauryn until its closure, runs the beloved monthly party Kudzu, and has spent years committed to his craft as a producer, DJ, promoter, and label manager. Tying the threads between an ever-expanding pool of sounds, his approach to production looks beyond the restraints of formal genre, and instead towards community, offering new sonic frameworks for others to soundtrack their own personal journeys. Black Acre has, since its inception in 2007, focused on strains of electronic music that mutate across different styles, and as such, Soulflow touches on a number of subcultural moments. As the name suggests, the title track is an uplifting, 101 groove of stripped back soul, driven by Stefan’s vocal treatments. ‘What’s Your Sign’ heads into hazier territory for an angular cut of minimal hypnotism. Taking a trip further into Stefan’s musical heritage with a nod to mid-2000s dubstep, ‘Cleanse’ is a half-time stepper adorned with glistening keys and improvised melodies that flawlessly embodies the cross-pollinated spirit of the genre, continuing the lineage of what occurred before with a sincere appreciation. Rounding things off is ‘Body Know’ - born from an experiment with a bass guitar and beat-boxed percussion - that fuses echoed vocals with a driving, analogue funk. Soulflow offers an honest portrayal of Stefan’s musical story, honing in on its past to build an expansive vision of its future. As he summarises succinctly: ‘This collection offers a glimpse into my journey thus far, with the anticipation of more to come.

"Here is what 2014 felt like: The cold, rushed walk from the Montrose Avenue L to the downstairs entrance of 20 Meadow Street, an address you could never quite remember. The careful steep climb to the top of the nondescript building, where Titus Andronicus’s Patrick Stickles was waiting to take your balled-up cash and stamp the inside of your wrist. Standing beneath that jagged cardboard punk bunting, draped with tangled twinkle lights, while Joe Galarraga, frontman of Big Ups, slowly, menacingly, wound a microphone cable around his fist. Then a barbed F-sharp sprang forward from Amar Lal’s guitar, shaking the entirety of Shea Stadium to life.

For much of that time period, ten years now behind us, it would be easy to say, man, you just had to be there. You had to be there when Death By Audio closed. You had to be there when the Apple store opened on Bedford Ave. If you weren’t there when a small, specific subculture of New York City took over its abandoned lofts and grimy basements and squatted itself into community, that’s okay — it might be too clunky and myopic to explain now. Released in January 2014 to Dead Labour in the US and Tough Love Records in the UK, Eighteen Hours of Static stands even now as a triumphant representation of what Big Ups did so well over the course of their nine-year run as a band. Now, with the re-release of Big Ups’ killer debut full-length, those who didn’t get to experience all this the first time around will get a shot at living as if it’s the glory days again."

During the early days of Deepchord Records, Detroit's transient and forgotten subculture musically inspired label founders Mike Schommer and Rod Modell in significant ways. The apex of Mike's creative fixation with the city was in 2001 when he recorded the Von Schommer album dc15. To capture the nature of the environment he found so fascinating, Schommer recorded the project at the Crown Motel in Detroit, Michigan. While overlooking the transient life displayed in the motel courtyard, Mike crafted lonely tones from his modular synthesizer and mixed them with his rudimentary DIY electronics. Still, most significantly, he allowed the music to become impregnated by the environment (much like the stains in the permanently soiled carpets of the motel room floor), creating a holistic experience that remains close to his heart almost 25 years later. Initially available as a limited edition preorder cdr to the Hypereal 313 maillist, the album has been remastered and is now available on color vinyl for the first time.

Original photography and treatments on tracks untitled 4 and untitled 10 by Rod Modell.

Presenting 3+5, the long-awaited eighth album from Tokyo-based noise-rockers Melt-Banana on their own A-Zap label! The album showcases the duo’s visionary musical approach and extraordinary abilities as performers: Yasuko Onuki’s giddy, hyperactive vocalizing and Ichiro Agata’s glitchy, cyberpunk guitar, delivered at dizzying speed, bathed in aggressive electronic sounds. Their aesthetic approach is exultantly experimental, fusing diverse genres imbued with chaotic energy. As on their previous works, the music on 3+5 is unpredictable, always filled with surprises and excitement. 3+5 synthesizes elements of a variety of extreme music, hyper-pop, classic punk, vintage metal, and noise. It partakes of Japanese culture overall, especially the subcultures of gaming, anime and underground music. Melt-Banana seek to offer possibilities to musicians who won’t start a band if they can’t find a drummer, young women afraid to express themselves in their own unfiltered and unique voices, bedroom musicians and egg punks seeking to blend electronic noise with live instrumentation. 3+5 provides a fresh experience and perhaps inspiration for all. While Melt-Banana hasn’t explicitly explained the meaning behind the album’s title, 3+5, prime numbers symbolize mathematical integrity and independence, which could represent the band’s uniqueness and freedom. Why “3+5” and not “1 + 7”? One is left to ponder.

To experience Justin R. Cruz Gallego's pulverizing Sub Pop debut is to get burned down to ashes and burst forth, born anew. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), the Tacoma-based artist's second album, is driven by opposing forces: noisy abstractions and tightly structured beats, anguish and dissolution at the outside world and empowerment within, apathy and catharsis. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra) weds scouring electronics to hooky songs and Gallego's powerful drumming in a way that feels visceral and new. It's his most personal statement to date, at once playful and intent, driven and combustible, total fucking chaos mixed into glints of broken-glass beauty. Born in Tucson, Arizona, Gallego experienced culture shock as a child after relocating to the frigid climes of the Pacific Northwest. He found solace in the Seattle punk scene centered around Iron Lung Records and has since remained a fixture in the underground community. "I see this record as first and foremost a musical statement," Gallego says. "I grew up in punk and DIY subcultures, but before that I had Latin music playing in the background through my childhood and every phase of adolescence. It was surprisingly natural to incorporate. I realized I wanted to go deeper into these rhythms. I wanted to make a record that felt as experimental as much as it felt from the perspective of a Latino. When I got a glimmer of that possibility, it felt exciting." Lead single "Dogear" is a face-melting party starter that sounds like someone forced Talking Heads and Rudimentary Peni to share a practice space. "I wanted a song that felt playful in the way it attempted to be dissonant without taking itself too seriously," Gallego says. "Cholla Beat" is even more ambitious, an anthemic mix of WAR and Wire led by unruly synthesizers spiraling down a labyrinth of production. Gallego's influences for the album are vast, ranging from British documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis to electric Miles Davis to audio miscreants like Demdike Stare and Oneohtrix Point Never. But it's Gallego's assured sonic vision that resounds the loudest. And, while J.R.C.G. is a solo project, conceived and executed primarily in Gallego's home studio, he found strength in opening the project to others, starting with Seth Manchester as co-producer. Manchester's penchant for bone-rattling frequencies, as seen in his production work with The Body, Battles, and Mdou Moctar, made him a natural fit for Gallego. Together, they retained the intimacy of Gallego's home recordings while taking advantage of the hi-fi stylings of his Machines With Magnets Studio in Rhode Island. The closing song, "World i," offers a glimpse into the live experience of Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), with upwards of seven band members blasting off. The album features a fascinating mix of supporting players, many of whom cycle through J.R.C.G.'s live lineup: Morgan Henderson (The Blood Brothers, Fleet Foxes), Jason Clackley (Dreamdecay, The Exquisites), Jon Scheid (Dreamdecay, U Sco), Erica Miller (Casual Hex, Big Bite), Veronica Dye (Terminator) Phil Cleary (U Sco), and Alex Gaziano (Dreamdecay, Kidcrash, Science Amplification). Taken as a whole, G.I.S.M. is a whirlwind of sound, pummeling, and cleansing. It's a sweaty, thrilling aural adventure and, like a great basement show, it'll leave you breathless, exhausted, and wanting to repeat it all over again. As any good mantra should.

2024 Re-Release
Newly formed archival label Fresh Hold presents one of Australia’s most mysterious jazz long players - Singing Dust, in collaboration with Efficient Space. Almost bound for obscurity from its inception, the eponymous creation of Queensland-based jazz pianist Robert Welsh was originally issued in 1986 on Melbourne independent label Cleopatra Records. Rich in compositional sophistication and expressive performance, Singing Dust resembles a unique fusion of Indian devotional song, the jazz piano styles of Bill Evans and Keith Jarrett, English folk and Debussey’s tonal impressions, bearing little similarity to the dominant commercial and subcultural music of its time.

Representing a culmination of Welsh’s influences in and outside of music, the dynamic collection of seven compositions accompany the Ghazal devotional poems translated by Australian poet Francis Brabazon. While Singing Dust sits loosely within the spheres of exploration that many jazz players took into world fusion in the '80s, it stands alone in its bright searing light of truth, love and austerity.

A true work of dedication and posterity that will appeal to many serious music lovers, the album has finally been transferred and remastered from original tapes by Dan Elleson, superseding the imperfect 1986 pressing and fully realising Welsh’s expansive vision.

"The Remedy," is I G Culture's latest album under Likwid Continutal Space Motion, Culture draws parallels between the complex world of fungi and London's Underground dance music scene. Both are intricate networks that thrive beneath the surface, connecting diverse elements and influencing one another. The London dance music scene, like fungi, encompasses a variety of styles and genres, from drum and bass to Garage Dance Subcultures may go unnoticed to the casual observer but are musical corner stones in our society. Dance floors and clubs serve as spaces for communal healing, allowing people to let go of daily stresses and connect through music and dance. I G Culture's "The Remedy" celebrates this vibrant underground culture and highlights the interconnectedness of all musical styles. Through his innovative production and thematic depth, he underscores the transformative power of dance music, emphasizing its role in promoting well-being and unity. The idea of Fungi also is expressed in the artwork by Amsterdams 'Machine' with IG's direction, who used fungi in an original collage revealing a secret world.

"Clinamen" is the random and unpredictable movement of atoms, which inexplicably change direction during their fall and thus encounter each other. From this chance encounter, the divine does not arise but actually dies, since the atom is nothing more than the aggregation of infinitesimal parts of matter, converging into unity. From this one, from this singular, from this self, I want to escape. Having abandoned the vain glory and hope of passions, I strive towards the sacred, for the gods themselves are also made of atoms. In this sacred secularism of mine, in this exodus from myself, I finally recognize the truth: there is no difference between us and them. Everything converges into a single point, which is the whole. And I find peace. You will find the rhythmic and unpredictable chaotic tale of the atomic fall towards oneself. As the infinitesimally small and the infinitesimally large come to coincide in the creative moment, even time bends and adapts in the service of this imperceptible revelation. Through post-tribe sounds of ancient remiescence to the most contemporary clubbing subculture, passing through an exasperated minimalism that leaves no detail behind. Complex, elegant, profound. Open to any change

It's a pleasure for us to present one of the most awaited albums of the MM Saturns saga, a record on which we have been working for almost 3 years, and it finally sees the light.

Corben introduces us to "Peachland," an introspective retro-futuristic journey where early electro and downtempo go hand in hand in order to create a cybernetic vision of the '80s subculture. It's like an inner spaceship that immerses you in infinite space, allowing you to reach unknown universes.

Pure no-wave nostalgia filled with contagious vocoders and hypnotic synthesizers that shape a dreamlike and unsettling landscape, in which Corben shows us what could be the most sentimental and human side of an imaginary and futuristic artificial intelligence.

Limited Anniversary Edition: embossed, reverse board, hand numbered, limited edition blue vinyl, 500 copies available! Conrad Schnitzler (1937-2011), composer and concept artist, is one of the most important representatives of Germany"s electronic music avant-garde. A student of Beuys, he founded Berlin"s legendary Zodiak Free Arts Lab, a subculture club, in 1967/68, was a member of Tangerine Dream (together with Klaus Schulze and Edgar Froese) and Kluster (with Dieter Moebius and Hans-Joachim Roedelius) and also released countless solo albums. The blue album ("Blau") from 1974 was Schnitzler"s second solo LP

Thou has always been a force of raw energy and unapologetic dissent, defying easy categorization and challenging listeners to confront the complexities of existence. Though often lumped in with New Orleans sludge bands like Eyehategod and Crowbar, Thou transcends genre boundaries, drawing inspiration from a diverse array of influences spanning from `90s proto-grunge icons like Nirvana, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden (all of whom they've covered extensively) to the raw intensity of obscure `90s DIY hardcore punk found on labels like Ebullition, Vermiform, and Crimethinc. Their latest record Umbilical, Thou's first full-length release of original music since their 2018 Sacred Bones debut Magus, is their firmest nod to the latter - a record filled with mosh-ready riffs, heavy breakdowns and scathing vocals. The band's aesthetic and political impulses have always been punk and like anyone embroiled in the subculture Thou have been exploring what it means to exist within and without a rigid morality. That exploration takes thematic center on Umbilical and their self-assessment is as harsh as that of the world around them.

Thou has always been a force of raw energy and unapologetic dissent, defying easy categorization and challenging listeners to confront the complexities of existence. Though often lumped in with New Orleans sludge bands like Eyehategod and Crowbar, Thou transcends genre boundaries, drawing inspiration from a diverse array of influences spanning from `90s proto-grunge icons like Nirvana, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden (all of whom they've covered extensively) to the raw intensity of obscure `90s DIY hardcore punk found on labels like Ebullition, Vermiform, and Crimethinc. Their latest record Umbilical, Thou's first full-length release of original music since their 2018 Sacred Bones debut Magus, is their firmest nod to the latter - a record filled with mosh-ready riffs, heavy breakdowns and scathing vocals. The band's aesthetic and political impulses have always been punk and like anyone embroiled in the subculture Thou have been exploring what it means to exist within and without a rigid morality. That exploration takes thematic center on Umbilical and their self-assessment is as harsh as that of the world around them.

Containing the hits that were only deemed misses by the critics that condemned Oi! as some kind of subcultural fad that favoured football and violence way above the bloody good tunes that should by rights occupy the higher rank, 4 Skins, The Unreleased Radio & Studio Sessions encapsulates that energy at its finest. From formidable swarms of police brutality and political injustice, the underlying (and unyielding) socio-political messages experienced from the streets that resonated with every estranged clockwork skinhead of the day are bound to be ticked on every track. After the atmospheric crash of One Law for Them, dropped in amongst the Radio and blistering Bumper Sessions with Evil sitting squarely in its unpolished centre is the ska-inflected gallop of Seems To Me, an unreleased tune reinforcing the notion that there was more to Oi! than meets the laces.

Sometimes you have to move backwards to move forwards. Just ask punk cultural commentators BODEGA, whose new album sees them carve a new future from fuzz-soaked, consumerism-skewering shards of their past. "Our Brand Could Be YR Life" is BODEGA's first album release through Chrysalis Records. "It's something we've been wanting to do for years," guitarist and vocalist Ben Hozie explains of Our Brand Could Be YR Life - a collection of catchy indie-rock ruminations on the slow-creep of corporate-think into youth culture, first written eight years ago. The 15 tracks on "Our Brand Could Be YR Life" explore indie-rock subgenres, self-critique and everything in between. "I think it's our best- sounding record to date," says Hozie, "It's got dance-punk. There's some shoegaze on there. There's slacker rock on there. There's psychedelic rock on there. R.E.M, too. We wanted to be another band in a long stream of missionaries, proselytising a certain type of rock subculture."

tapetopia 006 In 1983, some more subdued sounds began to waft from the GDR punk underground into the second half of the ’80s. At five to the end of time, it was perpetually striking midnight and the occasional punk band would mix a little laudanum into their potential for aggression. Portents in this vein preceded a dark wave whose foamy crest would break on fog walls of dry ice. Especially in Leipzig and East Berlin, a chain-rattling zeitgeist produced bands that drew from a dark well. Many of these bands arose from the still hot or already cold ashes of punk. The two founding fathers of Neuntage Alt, René Glofke and Taymur Streng (nicknamed “Strangler”), knew each other from the East Berlin punk scene. The third man aboard, Mike Sauer, played drums in the early 1980s for Sendeschluß, a punk band that, lost in thought somewhere in the no-man’s land between punk and post-punk, faded away in 1984. Punk was no longer the order of the day, but it was a form of expression among many and easy to combine. Glofke and Streng found common ground in experimental set-ups with such otherworldly names as Medusa Brahma or Die zeitweilige Erscheinung.
From this far-flung point of departure, a short tunnel led straight into the black light of Neuntage Alt, the coldest star in the low-hanging sky above East Berlin. Neuntage Alt appeared at the end of 1986, during the last blackout phase of the GDR, on the threshold between the underground and the so-called “other bands” – a scene that used the non-socio-critical approach of German Wutwave (“anger wave”) in order to be allowed to perform publicly. In the context of this scene, Neuntage Alt did not belong to the inner circle. Moreover, the band’s subcultural base was initially in Mahlsdorf, on the south-eastern edge of East Berlin. This was where the DIY sound studio of amplitude apostle and great modulator Taymur Streng was situated. Strangler held the position of house electrician and keyboard god in various projects. One of them had the bland alias Mahlsdorfer Wohnstuben Orchester, behind which the avant-garde court chapel of the bungalow studio was concealed. There Taymur also conspired with the East Berlin underground band Ornament & Verbrechen (tapetopia #001). Ronald Lippok of Ornament & Verbrechen remembers how once, at the opening of a joint session, he and his brother Robert attended Taymur’s engaging slide show of his collection of test patterns. Afterwards, they created a piece with the psychedelic title “Das sentimentale UfO”, which sheds an iridescent light on the bizarre atmosphere in the studio. Taymur’s obsession with technology was legendary. The home studio was also his living space; a circuit, a machine park of screwed and soldered equipment, a single keyboard orgy. His own creations were also based on circuit diagrams found in the radio amateur magazine “Funkamateur”. Its somewhat clueless subtitle “Praktische Elektronik Für Alle” (Practical Electronics for All)

tapetopia 015 The name L’Ambassadeur des Ombres goes back to the
French science fiction comic “Valérian et Laureline”. The Ambassadors of the Shadows combined pop appeal and experimentation as the soundtrack to the zero hour of their generation in the GDR’s waning days. The music was made in a children’s room, but the edifice of ideas was a demolition site. L’Ambassadeur des Ombres existed as a hybrid of the wave bands Die Vision and Neuntage. The open ensemble’s family tree can however be traced back to buried DIY projects such as the Mahlsdorfer Wohnstuben Orchester, Zerstörte Umwelt and dark-wave protagonists Fellini Prostitutes or Nontoxic. In the short time of their existence in 1988/89, L’Ambassadeur des Ombres did not give a single concert. The tape “Strike Me If I Shriek” was circulated among friends and musicians only as an on-request work report – it’s a long overdue discovery. The tapetopia series, using the original layouts and track lists, publishes cassette editions from the GDR underground of the 1980s, especially from the “walled-in” scene in East Berlin. More than three decades after their initial “release”, most of these tapes have yet to be heard on either vinyl or CD, even though they made an audible mark in the canon of GDR subculture. Despite the tiny original editions of the time, many of the bands were considered cult in countercultural circles, which made them highly suspect in informed circles.