Buscar:subdued

Orphax & PONI (person of no importance) is a collaboration between the two Dutch brothers, Sietse (Orphax) and Tjeerd (PONI) van Erve. Since their early years they share a broad interest in music, fed mostly from their fathers’ record collection, ranging from early blues to Pink Floyd or Beethoven. But also listening to Belgian radio channel Studio Brussels (which during the late 80s and early 90s was a common listening close to the borders between The Netherlands and Belgium), and the late night Dutch radio inspired them in exploring the rough edges of underground music.

An exploration that gave them a common interest in indie and noise rock, but soon enough both followed their own path in music. Tjeerd moving more into underground guitar music, whilst Sietse developed a wider interest in (experimental) electronic and contemporary music. Both as listeners, but also exploring their own interests as musicians.

Now many years later these musical paths cross again in this album Inheritance (with a slight imagination, a translation of their last name van Erve). An album where Tjeerd brings in his dark and noisy lo-fi guitar songs and Sietse brings in his drones and electro-acoustic composition styles.

The album opens with its longest track, “As Received”. This combination results in a slow developing drone, with the intensity and tension of a well build-up post-rock track, that slowly unfolds Tjeerd his guitar layers and vocals. The title of the song refers to one of the PONI projects, where Tjeerd would send rough recordings to befriended musicians who than would rework those recordings without any restrictions which then would be released side by side with the original rough recordings. A project which actually sparked the idea of this collaboration (and that can still be listened to on PONI’s bandcamp-page).

On the flip side of the record, three shorter works give more room for regular song structures. In “Sunburns” this results in slowcore with subdued vocals, melancholic guitars and nasty synth and organ drones. When Tjeerd wrote the basis for the song, he actually had been listening to a lot of Codeine and Bedhead. One does not need much fantasy to recognize the influences of these bands.

“The Tears Are Necessary” is build up around various broken up piano tracks accompanied by moody drones to develop a fragile song.

The album closes with “Lockdown”, opening with silence as a moment of contemplation after the previous work but then quickly develops in a playful song where improvised play on piano, guitar and modular synthesizer create a lo-fi gem that clearly shows that both brothers still haven’t lost their love for Sentridoh or Guided By Voices.
All together resulting in an album that is an ode to the love of music, experiment, and creativity and a celebration of brotherhood.

In 2022 we journeyed to the center of the earth with Agartha, Lasha Chkhaidze's first album. This time we go the opposite direction, and fly towards the outer edge of the atmosphere.

Atmos, the latest offering of the young and talented Georgian artist, sees him explore the ether. Subtle and intricate layers are weaved together on the course of six tracks. This ambient album offers a completely different artistic direction compared to his previous work. Where melancholia and piano dominated Agartha, we are throughout Atmos taken into an otherworldly environment. The LP’s atmospheric undertone combined with its glitchier elements brings it into a lightly psychedelic dimension. With its really beautiful soundscapes and subdued intricate ideas, Atmos will undoubtedly please listeners of finely written ambient.

Lasha Chkhaidez is a gifted musician capable of crafting evocative music, The Intergalactic Institute for Sound is glad to present his deeply immersive experience to the public.

Filled with aural magic and enchanting musical spells, Sorcerer is true to its name. The third of five albums devised by Miles Davis' legendary second quintet – and the second record in a still-unprecedented string of eight consecutive releases within a four-year period that forever changed the face of jazz – the 1967 magnum opus mesmerizes with instrumental colours, subdued musings, and subtle details.

This is a reference-standard reissue. You'll hear poetic lyricism pouring out of Wayne Shorter's horn, the breadth and definition of the notes spreading across an enormous soundstage. Never before have drummer Tony Williams' rim shots ricocheted with such purpose or his light percussive work mirrored that of a feather touching skin. Similarly, Herbie Hancock's piano runs now occupy their own space, where their relationship to the central rhythms and front line becomes clearer.

Prizing inflection and nuance more so than heady solos or uptempo flights, Sorcerer mesmerizes with cerebral properties and cascades of emotional interplay. Such beauty emerges in the mellow ballad "Pee Wee," an indelible statement of restrained authority and sophisticated expression. The swirling title track unfolds as jazz shadowplay, Hancock, Shorter, and Williams mirroring one another's moves with guile and purpose. The opening "Prince of Darkness" showcases the ensemble's reach and communication, every musician going in seemingly different directions yet ending up on the same page

A lasting example of Davis' visionary insight, Sorcerer is comprised entirely of pieces written by his band mates. Indeed, save for the closing "Nothing Like You" – a brief tribute to Davis' eventual wife, who also graces the cover, recorded in 1962 and adorned with vocals from Bob Dorough, the album represents a further maturation and refinement of a quintet that stands as one of the finest in jazz history.

On For Annette, singer-songwriter ronja summons forth a certain unbridgeable void within our existence and the acceptance of the deafening silence that comes with it. Weaving the strands of her previous release something about us with multiple openings towards more abstract territory, this 5-track EP marks her debut under the forward-thinking Unguarded label, astutely situating her music well beyond the confines of the genre.

The opening track “Nothing Makes Me Feel” beckons the listener into a discreet moment amid the early light of dawn, commencing with an up-close acoustic guitar, soon to be graced by ronja’s hushed voice, softly whispering, as if to avoid waking someone near. “Just Once”, with its weeping waltz, is about losing one’s place in the world, about choosing the imaginary over the real. Behind the strummed chords hides a soft dither of sine tones that attempts to fill the gap that cannot be filled, only to transform into quavering distortion ever after. Where language may falter, ronja turns to choral-like instrumental pieces (“Light” & “Grass from Below”), characterized by her distinctive and multi-layered flute arrangements. The absence of words here allows for a sensible stage of introspection, a fleeting and diaphanous pause, forging a passage to a more hopeful outlook. Yet, these pieces are not isolated; hints of fluttering air and cavernous depths are subtly alluded to in the earlier, more song-based tracks. In just under 18 minutes running time, the theme of loss, or the anticipation of its arrival, lingers solemnly before transcending intermediate states in “Almost There”.

Admirers of the dreamgaze band Roomer, which made waves in and around the Berlin music scene this past year, might detect faint resemblances. Nonetheless, ronja—a pivotal presence in said band—unveils a distinct effort here, striking subdued but enticing tones, a foreshadowing of what is yet to come from this luminary artist. – Luka Aron

Jake Muir's latest set of soft-focus, sensual electro-concrète, dissolves X-rated gay sleaze flick soundtracks into a shimmering suite of subdued orchestral flourishes and surreal cosmic psychedelia.

Back in 2020, Muir put together a 90-minute mix for Honey Soundsystem, blending tracks from Kelman Duran, DJ Olive, Daniel Lanois and Terre Thaemlitz with obliquely camp dialog samples from vintage gay porn. The idea was to represent queer sexuality in a looser, more experimental manner, grazing the super-sensory pleasure of the bathhouse experience and the illicit joy of cruising without getting too self-serious while doing it. The mix was so popular that Muir followed it up with a weightless sequel two years later, and began developing the concept into a proper album, using more samples of music and dialogue, eventually performing the piece at the esteemed GRM as part of their FOCUS #4 concerts alongside work by Eliane Radigue, Folke Rabe and Chris Watson.

Bathhouse Blues is split into two side-long pieces that wash and ripple with nervous tension and discreet salaciousness. Opening with a familiar theatre sting, there are echoes here of kosmische and experimental electronics on 'Cruisin’ 87', fashioned into puddles of syrupy, back-room ambience. Occasionally we hear lascivious words thru the fog, men mumbling to each other before sex. "That's beautiful," a voice mutters over a dusky cricket chirp on 'Pipe Dream'. "It is," another replies.

Muir's sonic treatment is suitably explicit, like a 1950s Hollywood jump-cut to a train going into a tunnel; he takes the whole-body, mutual release of queer sex and interprets it with heady gestures, peppering jazzy rhythmic frostings into basins of skewered drone and gurgling synths. His sound is coloured by the pleasure of physical touch, a mussy flux of high frequency scrapes and caresses juxtaposed with woozy, dubbed-out fondles and thrusts. Who said the GRM was buttoned up?

Since 2014, Silas Schletterer has been part of the Bordello A Parigi family. Under his Machinegewehr guise, the Rotterdam artist released three show-stopping synth centred records.

2023 sees him put out his fourth, Life. Burbling arpeggios, a signature of his sound, are present for “Sans.” Clever inviting melodies, another feature of Schletterer’s style, mix beautifully with clean percussion and samples for a definite dancefloor favourite. The title work follows. Measured and meditative, “Life” employs a familiar sound palette with very different outcomes. The pulsations, the throb, of Machinegewehr is there, but there is a considered melancholy that brins a bittersweet balance to the piece. Steady kicks and vocal snippets introduce “Pills.” Shifting melodies, piano stabs, driving rhythms and spoken word come together to create a heady brew of sheer pleasure. Vocals are central in the closer. “Neurons” narrates a fantastical story of subdued sci-fi sorrows and wistful yearning, all to a silken synth-pop soundtrack.

A welcome return from a multifaceted musician.

When South Korean balearic prodigy Mogwaa came to MM Discos with an idea for his rst full-length album, we were a bit surprised.
He said, ‘I want to do an album of bossa tracks with synths, a drum machine and my guitar’. We obviously had to take him up
on that deal.

Fresh from the recent Bandcamp feature on his own brand of danceoor-ready modern boogie, Seungyoung Lee (aka Mogwaa)
arrives back on MM Discos with his - and our - rst full length exercise. With six tracks per side of 80s inuenced synth and bossa
badness, ‘Hazy Dreams’ is an exercise in simplicity, and more proof of the ever-expanding musical horizons of one of the scene’s
most virtuosic instrumentalists.

Pairing a sensitivity to the construction of ambient, funk, bossa and cassette-tape 80s experiments with his own cinematic subtlety,
‘Hazy Dreams’ takes a gentle, minimalistic approach, crafting its own escapist world that oers a welcome diversion from the
steady ow of busy balearica and downtempo.

Opening track ‘Full Bloom’ paints a picture of midsummer at dawn, some clear-skied island where lush vegetation climbs through
hibiscus gardens. ‘Nacimiento’ is an AOR/bossa crossover evoking West Coast yachting in full afternoon, and A3, ‘Soothing’, adds
a touch of wistfulness with reverb-doused guitars over meandering bass motifs.
The easy kick-and-snare combo of ‘Levitation’ sets the scene for a drum machine love aair, unrequited love on the rocks, and
‘Flashback’ plays with short delay trails and o-kilter melodic sequences, where you feel the soft presence of the nebula approaching
at the break of day. Closing out the A-side, ‘Dispatching’ reaches out even further into the imagined cosmos of Mogwaa’s
picture-perfect world, portraying an ambience at dusk, observing, calmy, as pued-up pink clouds melt into the evening canvas.
On the other side, Mogwaa explores quiet corners with ‘Illusions’, a slow meditation on the nature of simple presence, and ‘Echoes
of You’, a stream of subdued brush strokes that crescendo into higher frequencies on gently undulating pads. B3, ‘Moondance’,
ups the tempo and recalls classic Mogwaa with its sideways shue and starry melodic refrain, pivoting through folk-dance
moods and surprising chord changes.
Nearing the end of the album, ‘Footprints’ wades through tall grass in search of altered states, innite and hypnotic, changing
course only to crouch down and study the landscape, and B5, ‘It always comes and goes’, pictures the to-and-fro of jetstreams and
comets in the blinding midday sky. Finally we have the closing credits of ‘Swingin’ that looks o into the horizon, jaunty and exalted,
a guitar-led tribute to an easy-going world, and ultimately mindful of the power of dreams.
We’re humbled to have such a special record for our rst full-length release on the label.

But after collectively moving across the country from Burlington, VT to Seattle, WA, the scrapped tracks transformed substantially into florid, at times entrancing compositions.

The pulsating "Circles" opens the album with lilted reflections on empathy, breathing in midtempo syncopation with subdued guitar tip- toeing around melodic drumming. supernowhere's cast of Meredith Davey (bass, vocals), Kurt Pacing (guitar, vocals), and Matt Anderson (drums) share a collective ambition for maximum interplay and collaborative writing, materializing cleanly knotted compositions that evoke vivid dreamscapes and the profound epiphanies drawn from them ("The Hand", "Ecdysis"). On upbeat "Dirty Tangle" Davey's voice glides through Pacing's angular arpeggiations, carving her own rhythmic lane with her distinctive, descanting singing style.

"Skinless Takes A Flight" notably would not have come to fruition without the help of engineer Dylan Hanwright (mix. Gulfer, mem. Great Grandpa, I Kill Giants), whom the band met shortly after relocating to Seattle. Hanwright offered up the studio where the album was recorded as a temporary rehearsal and writing space during the pandemic, which in turn gave him intimate familiarity with the music, resulting in an album that was recorded as intimately as it was written. Hanwright helped make the little moments shine too, as heard in the fleeting vocal harmonies on "Augury", or the spiraling chaos in "Basement Window," a further testament to the collaborative, everyone's-input-matters nature that characterizes supernowhere's dizzying yet meditative sophomore record.

EACH COPY Personally SIGNED BY LEN FAKI

Len Faki has always been a defining character of the techno underground. His unique approach to DJing, the consistent work as a producer and the quality output of his label Figure has all shaped the current environment.
Starting out as a clubber in the 90's, his inspirations have always reached back to the first encounters with electronic music, when new worlds opened and everything seemed possible.

While these experiences have always influenced Faki's productions and used to be released under many different aliases back in the day, they have been waiting since to be made into a proper album under the Len Faki moniker.

After quickly climbing to the top of the international DJ circuit, busy touring schedules never quite allowed for it. Finally faced with the opportunity of a long overdue creative break, Faki decided tackle the life-time venture with the necessary dedication and focus.

Excited about the new project, he also took the time and energy needed to expand his production methods. Finding new techniques allowed him to truly bring all his different influences to the surface. The process was one of following his own heart, occasionally challenging and surprising himself. Naturally the result emerged as two parallel experiences, which are now presented across two discs. Both still carry all the signature features of Faki's style but with added layers of depth and detail. There's that special contrast of dark and heady grooves, paired with dreamy melodies that transport the listener to places beyond the mind. But we also see all strains of his previous work being incorporated, mixed and molded into something new altogether.

While the first disc focuses on the kind of techno, which Faki has been brought up by and given back to for so many years of his life, the second is more loose and experimental, with forays into house, ambient and broken beats - the sounds he has always kept very passionate about.

It creates two distinct experiences, showcasing the entire breadth of Faki's cosmos. Where some ideas stay straight and kick hard, like the neon bleep opener Tor 8 or joyfully booming Astra, others take the newfound freedom to inspire a wistful broken beat ballad such as Hymn (In the Name of Fantasy) or the soulfully subdued Drum & Bass closer Voices.
Many songs even exist as pairings, with their respective counterpart on the other disc. For example, the duo of Shri Yantra/Yantra, where similar soundscapes have been looked through different lenses, making for a more straight-laced or shuffled rhythm. Also noteworthy are Faki's appearance as a veritable house producer on Hymn (In the Name of Freedom) as well as the inclusion of two very personal pieces:
The Halide tracks were made in remembrance of Faki's late mother, who passed away during the final production stage of the EP. These delicate tracks capture the intense sadness Faki was feeling at the time and helped him to process his grief and eventually to finish off the album.

By doing so Faki has given us a complete artistic statement, one that proves him to be as curious and driven now as ever, taking his sound to all-new realms.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Tom James Scott holds a unique position in experimental music. With a soft brush approach Scott, who currently lives on the North-West coast of England, has explored delicacy in music with a variety of sublime releases on a variety of labels. Predominantly known for gentle investigations of guitar and piano, Scott has shifted to incorporating different technology and tactics over time. All of this, either in performance or recording, is embedded with a spirit that is quintessentially his own. Nightshade is the latest in his expanding catalogue, one which ignites an alarmingly new take on his approach to music. Echo on Water initiates proceedings with the unmistakable sound of tape.

Any instrumentation is buried amongst the woozy sway of the medium itself, with its rough dynamics soon morphing into an overwhelmingly swirling mass of emotionally decayed sound. The movement of matter takes on a haunted shape with sounds looping and falling apart as the physicality of the medium holds it all together. The second track Blue Mist furthers this approach with its smeared haze of gorgeous emotion. This is deep exploration of ideas meeting matter. Wasting Stars takes up the entire flip side with the sound of tape recoiling a bit to allow the delicate glow of instruments to come more to the fore, with gentle effects that weave the musical matter. As a skewered take on Scott’s earlier piano explorations the atmosphere here is a subdued soundscape evoking the spiritual sadness found in the piano works of Gurdjieff/De Hartmann, with a modern lo fi angle.

Nightshade is a deeply effective journey and one of the most exquisite examples of Scott’s delicate approach so far. Two sides of form which inhabit contrasting yet complimentary clouds of sound communicating in an stunning emotional flow. As music with only trace elements of melody, Nightshade is a beautiful take on tools being used to explore paths both highly idiosyncratic, deeply moving and discreetly personal.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

The year is 1989. Techno’s second generation has begun to permeate the globe leading a young Carl Craig to a tiny village in the countryside of Belgium. It is here, undistracted and determined to break out, that Craig encounters one of the country’s only drum machines, an Alesis controlled midi-808. In a single session he composes and mixes a handful of records that are still to this day regarded as some of his most raw and explosive contributions to the fabric of electronic music history.

Carl revisits this fateful chapter through the lens of a famed cut from his Psyche alias ‘From Beyond’, with a ‘C2 2023 Mix’ and remixes from Seth Troxler, Ataxia and Admn, out July 14 on Planet E Communications.

The Psyche alias, known for early Transmat releases like ‘Crackdown’ and ‘Elements’, embodied a stripped back, less sample based yin attitude to the yang of Carl’s more aggressive 69 and sample-forward BFC and Paperclip People identities. ‘From Beyond’, first released in 1990 via the ‘Crackdown’ 12” on Transmat, offers an eerie glimpse into the simplistic production that came through Carl’s mastery of the 808 and the sonic value of restricting himself to this movement defining tool.

This new ‘From Beyond’ package sees Carl lift and bend the original in his ‘C2 2023 Mix’ alongside a package of remixes from artists near to the hearts of Detroit and the Planet E fold. Seth Troxler brings a subdued acid tinge to the package, while label regular Ataxia pays homage to the source material with a renewed percussive energy, followed by a soulful rework by Admn.

Whether it be through the 30 year repertoire of his seminal Planet E, his Party / After-Party sound and light installation now on display at Los Angeles’ MOCA, or his continuous work as a champion of Black-led creativity, the Carl Craig mission remains the same: to always rep Detroit and be the realest mutha f***a alive.

Obsessive tekno/grime experiment from London's lostdomain producer Leeway following the great great Krevet EP. Very compatible with ~160 BPM hardtek/trance. Grainy desaturated claustrophobic sound progressing to full, crisp and dreamy with alien salival textures...

Whole album varies on two or three circling themes. Super zoney and subdued and spiritual but then jumps right out of the speakers with violence.

Up next on Space Dust is Miles, exploring 4 variations on an other-worldly electro vibe with his 'Peeking Through Clouds' EP.
The landslide-worthy bassline of 'Hole in the System' kicks off proceedings, with sharp claps and sizzling rides occupying the space left behind, while squelching stepper 'Light Years Away' presents itself as another wieldy dancefloor weapon on a US-garage tip.

On the flip, bass continues as the dish of the day through 'In Transmission', as moody synth work rides a subdued breakbeat. 'Peeking Through Clouds' boxes off the EP in an ethereal fashion... but this shimmering closer remains a floor-focussed weapon.

FELT summon the hand of two of the most uncannily suited producers around to remix cuts from Civilistjävel!’s "Järnnätter" album one year on from its initial release.

As a regular collaborator with SVN and Dynamo Dreesen as well as having a slew of experimental techno 12”s to his name, A Made Up Sound immediately got the memo. The Dutch producer takes the foggier, subdued angle of his own craft into wildly captivating effect when tasked to build upon the stems from the “civilian bastard”.

Whilst the A Made Up Sound remix constantly builds in intensity, Ossia’s “Disoriented Dub” explores a much more radiophonic, lost-at-sea headspace with echoes of early concrete compositions and a spectral approach to dub; an olive branch of muggy hauntological weirdness extending from Bristol up to Scandinavia and back via the lowlands.

Hot on the heels of dropping a double LP's worth of downtempo shenanigans for Fresh 86, Coco Bryce serves up another full length album, this time for his own Myor imprint.

Computer Love sees the bpm's being turned up a notch again, mainly operating within the 160 realm, whilst taking the occasional side street into UKG and breakbeat house.

Although the jungle and D&B vibes are still clearly present on tunes such as House Music and the previously released singles Night Safari and Trust Issues, Coco opts for slightly more off-kilter and genre-defying drum programming on the album's title track and the pleasantly subdued Eye New.

All in all the rhythmic, and stylistic, diversity on display here makes for an album equally suited for dancefloors and home listening alike.

As Warped Tour pop-punk and American Apparel indie rock dominated the strange post-Y2K guitar-band milieu, Boston's Karate delivered an engrossing shot of rock that constantly shifted between several shades of subterranean sounds. The quiet moments on Karate's millennium busting fourth album carry much of that old, unbridled intensity, braided into subdued jazz melodies and slowcore restraint. Karate's transition into rock maturity bore supple fruit with Unsolved, presented here with three previously unreleased songs.

As Warped Tour pop-punk and American Apparel indie rock dominated the strange post-Y2K guitar-band milieu, Boston's Karate delivered an engrossing shot of rock that constantly shifted between several shades of subterranean sounds. The quiet moments on Karate's millennium busting fourth album carry much of that old, unbridled intensity, braided into subdued jazz melodies and slowcore restraint. Karate's transition into rock maturity bore supple fruit with Unsolved, presented here with three previously unreleased songs.

As Warped Tour pop-punk and American Apparel indie rock dominated the strange post-Y2K guitar-band milieu, Boston's Karate delivered an engrossing shot of rock that constantly shifted between several shades of subterranean sounds. The quiet moments on Karate's millennium busting fourth album carry much of that old, unbridled intensity, braided into subdued jazz melodies and slowcore restraint. Karate's transition into rock maturity bore supple fruit with Unsolved, presented here with three previously unreleased songs.