Cerca:suff x

Suff Daddy (578k monthly listeners on Spotify), is one of the legendary beatmakers who shaped a whole era of bedroom producers. His unique approach and musical understanding sets him apart from all the other fish in the pond. He has released countless genre-defining albums and EP’s over the past 15 years building a loyal fanbase. Suff Daddy's songs have previously been featured in many editorial playlists including Spotify's "Jazz Vibes" (2.1M Likes), "BUTTER" (770k Likes), "Sweet Soul Chillout" (1.2M Likes) and many more.

Introducing "Hair Of The Dog," Suff Daddys musical journey that blends instrumental hip-hop, electronic, and dance genres. This captivating album, produced with his own Suff Style invites listeners to unwind From start to finish. Once again a Suff Daddy album thrives on the pure brilliance of his on way to create music. The album's cover art, masterfully crafted by the renowned painter Mitch (@itsallinsideus, 165k Followers), adds an intriguing visual dimension to the experience. Both artists have known each other for a long time and are currently preparing their audiovisual release- event for August 18th in Berlin. Bringing their art together as a unique experience for their audience.

The phrase "Hair of the dog that bit you" commonly denotes consuming alcohol as a remedy for a hangover, aiming to alleviate its effects. Suff Daddy plans to introduce his own hangover solution, which will be plant-based and devoid of alcohol. Through all of his career he frequently played with alcohol references and now its the perfect timing to release his own hangover cure. Additionally, this endeavor will serve as a social media catalyst for the entire project.

Berlin-based producer, beatmaker, and all-around big papa Suff Daddy returns with an irresistibly-bouncy instrumental long player to herald in the new year, aptly titled “Basically Sober,” releasing on Jakarta Records February 25, 2022.

Berlin-based producer, beatmaker, and all-around big papa Suff Daddy returns with an irresistibly-bouncy instrumental long player to herald in the new year, aptly titled “Basically Sober,” releasing on Jakarta Records February 25, 2022.

Die Frisur sitzt, die Socken auch: Dexter ist zurück - am Mic. Auf seinem neuen Album - Haare nice, Socken fly' zeigt der renommierteste Vinyl-Digger und Beat-Künstler des Landes, wie entspannt man Rap angehen kann, wenn man sich von Rapper-Ego und Erwartungshaltungen freimacht. Wie das
letztendlich klingt Um es mit Dexters Worten zu beschreiben: wavy. Und was bedeutet wavy Für mich bedeutet das einfach eine gewisse Leichtigkeit. Die Musik ist nicht aufdringlich, eher fluffig, wie ein leichter Wellengang. Auch die Textinhalte sind so: keine schweren Thematiken, es geht eher darum, dass es mir gut geht, sagt Dexter. Und genau so klingt Haare nice,
Socken fly : wavy

'Oonops Drops' is the eponymous name of DJ Oonops' monthly broadcast on Brooklyn Radio (NYC). It's not your average radio show without talk and comments for which he invites renowned guests with their exclusive mixes from around the globe to create timeless and thematic episodes. In the last sixty shows he got visited by artists like Morcheeba, Guts, Nickodemus, The Herbaliser, Nostalgia 77, Boca 45, Blundetto, Chinese Man and many more.

Born in 1977 he got in contact with music at an early stage and soon discovered his medium of choice: vinyl. Oonops is a dj, selector, digger and is known for his smooth mixing skills to rock parties in his unmistakable wildstyle of jazz, soul, funk, hip hop, beats, edits, reggae, dub and afro. He shared the stages with acts like Nightmares on Wax, The Beatnuts, Jeru The Damaja, Ebo Taylor, Myron & E, Akua Naru and The Artifacts to name just a few.

As a longtime friend of the label and as a resident of its own club night he now gets his own compilation series to showcase his manifold taste in digging, selecting and mixing. His matter was to create a compilation of manifold genres of undiscovered, previously unreleased and for the first time on vinyl delicacies for any avid and discernable listener and dj. Especially for the vinyl lovers he dug many tracks which are treats for every set from warm-up until peak time. This compilation will stay for a long time in the bags.

Furniture is British new wave band active between 1979 and 1991, but were far more eclectic than you'd think, incorporating jazz, blues and post-punk sounds as well. They are noted both for their poetic storytelling and high-quality productions as for the numerous setbacks they experienced. These setbacks ultimately prevented them from making their big break, making them a big what-if of the burgeoning English new wave scene.

Although active since the late 70s, their 1986 debut album The Wrong People gave them their commercial breakthrough. It was supported by the single Brilliant Mind which eventually reached #21 on the UK Singles Chart and remains their only entry on it. They followed it up with a re-recording of their 1984 single Love Your Shoes. Although a radio hit, it ultimately failed to chart as not enough copies were pressed to match demand.

The album ultimately suffered from the same fate which means there are not a lot of copies floating around. In recent years it became a cult classic so we thought it would be fitting to reissue it on vinyl for the first time since its initial release in 1986.

The Wrong People is available as a 40th anniversary edition on orange vinyl, and includes an insert with lyrics.

Germany"s producer elite gathers on this new instrumental compilation by Kabul Fire Records and, just in time for the G20 summit in 2017, is sending a powerful signal against nationalist isolationist politics and global exploitation. Label boss Farhot has brought together pretty much everyone that has rank and name in the German hip hop scene: Bazzazian, The Krauts, Dexter, KitschKrieg, Brenk Sinatra, Ghanaian Stallion, Suff Daddy, Samy Deluxe, DJ Desue, and many more. Everything exclusive, everything fire! The proceeds from the project go to a school construction project of the Hamburg association Visions for Children e.V. in Afghanistan. Make beats not borders!

If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.

Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.

With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.

Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).

The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)

“One foot out the door, another in the otherworld…”
So begins Hannah Lew’s debut, self-titled solo record, soaked in imperious, wide-eyed pop songwriting and a girl-group/post punk aesthetic that belies the artist’s history in the U.S. underground. A towering, hook-laden album, it’s infused with an optimism and surrealism that conversely deals with the times we find ourselves in.

Recorded at home in Richmond, CA and in The Best House studio with Maryam Qudus in Oakland CA, with the assistance of a crack team of West Coast musicians, this album sees Hannah Lew stepping out from behind the legacy of her two groups Grass Widow and Cold Beat. While musically bearing similarities with her previous work, “Hannah Lew” is a bold leap into direct pop territory, making ample use of a vocal style that teases out the inherent melancholy in her melodies. Mastered by Sarah Register, each song is a perfectly honed nugget that frequently pulls the heart in two directions at once.

Themes of change, breaking up, shattering old ways of being are shot through the record. For the front cover, a photograph of the artist’s face was printed, ripped up and re-assembled, resembling the creative process embarked upon by Lew for her first “solo” material. The album feels instinctual, almost dream-like in its assemblage of sweeping synths and pulsating, propulsive drum machine beat patterns with Lew’s vocal performances sensitive and caressing over the top. Increasingly relying on the subconscious and dreams to guide her creative process, Hannah Lew frequently abandons literal interpretations or linear narratives, the songs seeming to exist in a swooning, effortless flow-state while remaining emotionally hard hitting.

On an album where every song could be a single, there are kaleidoscopic shades and varying emotional tones in abundance. First single Another Twilight is carried along a pumping, Italo-disco-style 4/4 beat and mono-synth bass line, the low end pulling at the heart and body. Lew’s vocal melody teases the track before swan-diving into a gorgeous chorus as she sings “it’s all over baby and I don’t mind… in decline, I take my time…” The album is suffused with moments like this. On slow builder Damaged Melody, an arpeggiated synth elongates the verse before a cascading synth showers down melodic glitter. The stunning Replica uses dual swirling synth patterns before a driving, synthpop chorus for the ages carries Hannah Lew’s vocal into the stereo field, sailing in on a high register singed with the embers of a break up.

In a departure from previous groups, her solo songs are guided by dreams and free association inspired by Dada and the Surrealist movement and sculpted afterwards. As such, the songs reveal themselves on repeated listens, revealing traces of heartbreak inspired by both personal and global elements - Hannah Lew regards the album “a wartime album.” On Move In Silence, Lew intones “there’s a war outside, just out of view,” revealing the dichotomy at play throughout. With the songs evolving naturally and in a flow state, the pressures and sadnesses of the modern age bleed through, mixed in with Lew’s inherent love, sensitivity and fractured-but-intact optimism. On the swooning, sublime Sunday layers of Numanoid synths open up for the commanding vocal performance pontificating on grief, love, pain as she “feels the ache on Sunday…” As the chorus builds and Lew’s call-and-response vocal adds to the emotional tension, it almost feels like too much to take.

Elsewhere, there are echoes of Hannah Lew’s previous work. On Time Wasted a bass guitar comes in with a heavy, punk attack before the synths and vocal harmonies reminiscent of later Cold Beat elevate everything. The glassy, sweetly resigned closer The Clock sounds like so classic it could be cover, a sweetened Jesus & Mary Chain tune perhaps, before it erupts into volcanic chorus that could only come from Hannah Lew in 2026.

The Trip To Vega is about deep outer space odyssey that occurs in the process of traveling from Earth through the Cosmos to another "favorable" star system 25.3 light-years away.

The time is year 2097, Sept 23rd.

To this day, Earthlings have managed to dodge some of nature's more dangerous extremities, massive volcanic eruptions, Earthquakes, solar burst that knocked out the Planet's entire electrical grid for 3 years, numerous plagues of disease, food and fresh water shortages, domestic and International Wars and many other life-changing operas, but for this event, what remains is a realization that has no remedy. The cause: Earth's physicality has changed. It is no longer favorable for living things.

It is the constant shifting of the planet's internal tectonic plates which has unfortunately produced an unexpected and impassable dilemma.

Because of the collisions, deep within the planet's core, the planet is now producing an extraordinary amount of sound that includes a specific harmonic frequency that erodes the natural senses of all life on Earth.

It is intensifying. It is intolerable and it is unlivable.

Yet, some humans prefer to stay, to "ride it out" like the Titanic captain going down with his ship. Some, in total disbelief as some have concluded it is the second coming of Jesus Christ. But for most, the decision is clear. Tolive another day, leaving is the only rational choice.

At an increasing rate, scientific research data shows that humans and most animals, excluding the Jellyfish will eventually lose the usage of hearing and are to greatly suffer from an array of other neurological and psychological effects. The sense of touch and taste, sleep depreciation, severe nerve damage, constant hallucinations. Everyone will lose many of their cognitive abilities within an estimated 12 months from now.

On this day and every 7 days afterwards until all registered passengers have departed, the first of a fleet of large number of massive size spacecraft carrying approximately 1 million humans per vessel will permanently leave Earth to begin the long and adventurous trek across outer space to a new home: Vega.

This is not a precautionary tale as there is nothing to learn. Instead, a decision has been made and a Trip To Vega is the consequence.

- Jeff Mills

Luke Lund is a self-taught producer and sound artist from Finland. Over the past eighteen years, his work has absorbed influences ranging from the darkest fringes of club culture and the most caustic strains of industrial noise, to the subtlety of musique concrète and the rawness of rock.

It all started when he discovered that abstract sound design could stand as music in its own right, a revelation that ignited his enduring commitment to noise, sound art, dub techniques, and experimentation.

“Peel the Scab” emerges from this premise as a visceral and frenetic immersion into his “lo tech” facet, a term the artist himself employs to define the album’s style.

Allergic to programming, these are pure dub-blooded sessions pushed straight to tape, twisted until they yield under their own weight. It is a work constructed upon dense, disjointed rhythms: brutalist grime infused with a suffocating mutation of dub.

Signal Threat is the debut vinyl release of DRUUM aka James Orvis, an exhilarating and boisterous chest pumping collection of electro anthems. Raw and packed with energy, DRUUM’s productions are explosive and have serious bite. His sound is distorted and bold unfiltered, drawing inspiration from the infamous electro punk scene where he has carved out a name for himself. His impeccable use of rap vocals is unique and authentic its rhythmic and aggressive.

DRUUM’s bridging of various styles and use of heavy breakbeats are stunningly edgy. Each sound is carefully modulated and designed purposefully; it’s like a cage fight met a high stakes heist, buzzing with ruggedness. As some who have been following DRUUM are aware, he suffered two strokes in 2025. As DRUUM makes a strong recovery, Dionysian Mysteries felt obligated to get a posse of remixers to help raise money and awareness for this bad ass release. An absolute stellar group of producers are behind this release in support of DRUUM. Featuring remixes from the likes of Umwelt and Ben Pest.

You wake up abruptly on cold floorboards, your body aching as if from a great fall. White light floods your vision. Where are you? Last thing you can remember you were hurtling through the Genesis Domain at breakneck speed, but this is definitely somewhere different. As your eyes come into focus you see the hall is grand, intimidatingly opulent. A full house of seated onlookers peers at you expectantly. You’re on a stage, you realize. Flames creep up the walls, engulfing the room and lighting the faces in the audience; the heat is oppressive, but nobody seems to notice. A voice booms out.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Presenting: a performer of great renown all across the land, yours for one night only… introducing—”

Tiny bells jangle around your head as you shift your weight, obscuring whatever name the announcer just called out. You try to sit up. The jester’s hat tumbles off with a clatter. Not this again, you groan. Your head spins with vertigo. You grimace, trying to remember something. You had just gleaned an urgent and existential truth in the Genesis Domain, but it’s slipping away now… what was it?

Off to your left, a whip cracks. The impresario glares at you from the wings, fist clenched around a diamond-encrusted whip, mouthing at you to get up.

You try to run, but the weight of an incorporeal authority bears down upon you. The impresario cracks his whip again, an impish smirk forming on his lips.

With resignation, you begin to work the room. What else can you do? Tendrils of giggling and gossip creep through your periphery. The heat is suffocating and the smoke stings your eyes, but the show goes on. Remembering your bag of tricks as if from a dream, you raise your hands in the air, invoking the universal call to audience participation. The crowd goes wild. You feel the rush of a familiar thrill. Being the Fool comes naturally to you, you realize, as the palace burns around you.

Andreas Tilliander returns to Kontra-Musik in a grand style with his second TM404 album. Titled 'Acidub', this highly anticipated release is much more of an evolution than a repetition of the first superbly self-restricted album, where Tilliander even decided to use only one of the two Roland TB-303 waveforms. Acidub is a more playful and open listening experience, no doubt inspired by his extensive live touring with the TM404 concept. In fact, you can almost hear Tilliander's flock of acid machines breaking free from the restrained modus operandi. Every sound is like a migratory bird with a heart yearning for high altitude and favourable winds. The opening track Alinge paints a lucid picture of these acid birds leaving a cold industrial landscape behind, the flickering black shadows from their wings against the white smoke rising from a forest of chimneys below. The very last seconds of Alinge even echo of the place the silver birds are longing for, but that will remain a secret between Kontra-Musik and the avid listener. Sufficient to say, we can follow these birds of passage as they're heading south towards a warmer climate, fleeing the cold discipline of the North. Mutron Mantra, for instance, brings us to a rainforest full of serpentine lianas, giant leaves dripping with moist and green pools of water bubbling with organic life. Don't Defend Mascot guides us through a steaming savannah at dusk with hundreds of yellow eyes following our every step while Pade vividly describes the perils of the flight and the pace and courage needed to press on. In all, Acidub is a surprisingly exuberant follow-up to the more introspective TM404 album. But while the musical journey of this second album is quite different, the experience of sheer aural eminence remains the same. Andreas Tilliander has done it again, and Kontra-Musik couldn't be prouder.

For the decennial release on Punctuality Warsaw duo W.A.C., aka Private Press step up with their Forever W.A.C EP. Moving away from their more techno-oriented offerings, Forever W.A.C. keeps the tempo and energy of their earlier work but suffuses the mood with warm, glowing trance and prog energy. This is peak-time Punctuality business in its purest form– on time as ever. “No More No Show” comes in hot from the get-go: galloping snare rolls, raved-up breakbeats, uplifting pads, big basslines, acid licks, and the low-end wubs that have become synonymous with the Punctuality sound. One for that point in the night when the dancefloor has melted into sweaty, eyes-closed, hands-up amorphia.

Barely recognisable to its original counterpart, the Rhyw remix strips the A1 down to the bare essentials. Preserving only a few percussive elements, the euphoria of No More No Show is replaced with hazy, cinematic synth washes that drone around a skeletal groove loaded with bassweight, warping the original into a dubbed out psychedelic UK stepper. Shifting to the morning light, “Only Froggerz” is a shimmering roller that ebbs and flows around barreling kick drums, kaleidoscopic synth lines, and vaporous FX, with lustrous chord work driving the emotion dial to 11. Elegant and restrained but relentlessly pummeling, it’s early-morning club gear at its finest.

Rounding out the EP with an essential slice of modern prog, “Close” utilises all the good bits: skippy basslines, filtered squelches, tribal-leaning percussion, and a relentless groove that builds around the subtle interplay between the stabs and the vocals. An epic closer that feels as true to the Punctuality canon as ever.

The Bug and Ghost Dubs relentlessly probe and atomize original material culled from Kevin Richard Martin's critically acclaimed 'Sub Zero' album. ("Monolithic and unforgiving, even by the Bug’s standards, representing his most suffocating take on ambient dub yet." Pitchfork)

Remixed to punish sound systems and freeze up the dance, both Fiedler and Martin trade fresh, contrasting blows, after their recent IMPLOSION face off album on PRESSURE last year. (Dub/Reggae album of the year, 2025, in 'The Wire')

The resulting 4 remixes are every bit as hypnotic and persuasive as you would hope for from productions fresh out the soundlabs of Michael Fiedler aka GHOST DUBS and Kevin Richard Martin under his dancefloor destroying Bug alias. Both producers intensify the desolate mood of the originals but introduce demolition inducing beats which provide the literally irresistible momentum. Echoes of the originals are respected and heard throughout, but the extra gear shifts pay off brilliantly.

Guaranteed to push serious air, and test the most powerful of sub woofers, these 4 remixes vary from heavy to superheavyweight. i.e. GHOST DUBS outputs a deliriously stoned headnod with his zonal refix of 'When I'm Gone', which miraculously sounds both subtley mysterious, but monolithically huge, whilst The Bug prowls ice cold, on the noirish, narcotic, instrumental hip hop of 'Too Human', which sounds like prime Mobb Deep mixed by Rhythm & Sound' at 16 bpm.

Essential remixes of an already very special album, the original atmosphere is not only captured expertly, it is categorically amplified. LARGE.

Original Sufferhead beginnt mit einer minimalen Improvisation mit Felas neuer Band Egypt 80 und steigert sich dann zu einer kühnen, komplex strukturierten Afrobeat-Hymne, die die Situation der Massen in Nigeria anprangert. "Lasst uns zusammen ein schönes Lied singen", schlägt Fela vor, während der Refrain parallel zu der lebhaften Melodie seines Saxophons erklingt. Mit Hilfe des Refrains zählt er dann die Probleme auf, die das Volk plagen: keine Wasserversorgung, exorbitante Lebenshaltungskosten, keine Gesundheitsversorgung, zweistellige Inflationsraten. Die "großen, großen Leute" haben das Volk zum Sarg des Staatschefs gemacht: Nach der Plünderung und Verbrennung von Felas Kalakuta Republic 1977 schrieb Fela mehrere musikalische Antworten, in denen er die schuldige nigerianische Regierung direkt angriff, darunter diese traurige Hommage an seine Mutter, Coffin for Head of State. Nachdem seine Mutter an den Komplikationen der Verletzungen gestorben war, die sie erlitten hatte, nachdem sie während des Überfalls auf Kalakuta aus einem Fenster geworfen worden war, trugen Fela, seine Frauen und seine Anhänger den Sarg seiner Mutter zum Eingangstor der Armeekaserne: ein mutiger Akt des Trotzes.

"Coffin For Head of State" ist Felas düstere Anklage gegen diejenigen, die "durch Jesus Christus, unseren Herrn" das afrikanische Volk korrumpieren, bestehlen und berauben. Der wummernde, gleichmäßige Beat und die sich wiederholende Struktur des Liedes ahmen den Marsch zur Kaserne nach, während der Text Felas überwältigende Trauer über den Verlust seiner Mutter und den Zustand seines geliebten Nigerias direkt anspricht: eine Nation von ewig Leidenden. Seid nicht passiv, fordert er: Steht auf für eure Rechte.

Die B-Seite, Power Show, baut auf dem gleichen Thema auf und hebt die Unterdrückung der Massen durch die herrschende Klasse hervor. Der Text handelt von einem reichen Mann in einem schicken Auto, der an den Straßenrand ranfährt, um einen armen, allein reisenden Mann zu beschimpfen. Fela nennt dies die "Power Show" und prangert das Verhalten an. So verhält man sich nicht gegenüber seinen Mitmenschen.

Original Sufferhead war im Box Set #5 enthalten, das von Chris Martin und Femi Kuti kuratiert wurde. Das Album wurde auf opakem, hellgrünem Vinyl neu gepresst und ist untergebracht in einer bedruckten Innen- und single sleeve Außenhülle.