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MariJah joins the Jah Embassy Players for this powerful showcase.
Conscious lyrics & roots inspired vibes with an upfull message.

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.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Stepping up for Punctuality number 8 is the dynamic duo of Ciel and Matthis Ruffing. Needing little introduction, both artists are prolific producers and collaborators across tempos and genres. Toronto-based Ciel has released music on labels like NAFF, Peach Discs, and !K7, while Berliner Matthis Ruffing’s work can be found on International Chrome, Infinite Drift, and Strictly Strictly, to name just a few.

Bonding over a shared love for the techno stylings of Claude Young and early 2000s tech/prog house from labels like Future Groove and Slide, the duo’s collaboration began with a spontaneous jam in Ruffing’s Berlin studio during the summer of 2022. With an organic studio chemistry, the pair continued to jam over the following years. Hot Squid is the result of these studio experiments: five tracks of sleek, muscular, contemporary tech house that fluidly distill the creative visions of both artists—slick, shimmering grooves, heavily weighted for the dancefloor.

The title track, Hot Squid, weaves dubbed-out waves of FX and low-end sonics around metallic, staccato drum bursts, sci-fi pads, stuttered vocals, and syncopated snares that flit and flicker around a rolling bassline reminiscent of golden-era UK tech house from the late ’90s. Roza Terenzi’s remix flips the original into a modern, low-stepping tek roller—a mind-bending re-fix that puts more focus on the snaking vocal groove and a sparser percussion arrangement, filled out with lustrous textures and razor-precise sound design.

On Little Voice, glossy synths and spiraling atmospherics cascade around a mesmeric vocal line, while tightly wound, minimal drum loops give way to a swaggering bassline that barely relents throughout the track. The result is a satisfyingly boshy, groove-driven roller, fit for the dancefloor at any time of day.
Late Summer maintains the EP’s high-grade production standard in the form of a dreamy, electro-leaning tech house number, resplendent with deep, pummeling kick drums, woozy low-end, and organic sonics. Its plucked melody and introspective pads nod to halcyon-era IDM and the Detroit techno that inspired the duo in creating Hot Squid.

The release culminates in Bong Bong—a meditative dancefloor tool suffused with ASMR-like nature documentary samples that lend the track a psychedelic intimacy. Careening percussion lines and swooning chord stabs anchor the rhythm, while the title’s “Bong Bong” mantra hums beneath the surface, carried along by barely perceptible sub fills and ultra-processed percussion. A cohesive, unique, and enduring take on seminal tech house and Detroit techno from Ciel and Matthis Ruffing.

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)

Every so often in music, we come across voices that achieve a certain timelessness, so naturally do they encapsulate both past and present. Laure Briard is one of these voices, retro in form but contemporary at heart, spanning a career rich in aesthetic twists and turns, never without her signature magic, a special kind of eternal filter. Her first album, Révélation (2015), reveals her yé-yé influences, a testament to her love for ‘60s French pop music. Her second studio album, Sur la piste de danse (2016), follows in this vein and finds Laure accompanied as always by her long-time bandmates who share an affinity for warm, catchy arrangements that never lose their appeal. Her tour of Brazil marks a turning point in her career, introducing her to the local indie scene and thus launching her collaboration with the band Boogarins, as well as inspiring the release of multiple EPs composed and performed in Portuguese. Today, her music is embellished by touches of bossa nova and a folk sensibility, boasting increasingly intricate arrangements, as exemplified by her 2019 release, Un peu plus d'amour s'il vous plaît. Several years later, the Californian desert captures the musician’s imagination with Ne pas trop rester bleue, a poignant musical journey inspired by the rich history of Western legends and the role they play in shaping our collective consciousness.

In Voyage Mental, Laure Briard draws upon an inner energy unearthed during a new stage in her life, where the thrill of spontaneous adventure is not accessible in quite the same way. The result is a collection of sophisticated, introspective songs, narrating a young mother’s quest for balance in the face of routine. The album, nostalgic but always tethered to the present moment, is also the fruit of her collaboration with Gaëtan Nonchalant, a talented musician known for coaxing poetry out of the mundane. The two of them co-wrote and recorded five tracks at Studio Nocturne, accompanied by her long-time sidekick Pieuvre, aka Vincent Guyot, Léo Blomov, Pierre-Louis Vizioz, and Hedi Bensalem. The gentle pop opener “Rocking Chair” sways steadily to the rhythm of dynamic drums, followed by “Train,” a ballad that extends an invitation to set sail and daydream alone. The folk escapade continues with “Golden Sun,” a duet featuring the 1960s cult American musician F.J. McMahon, who Laure contacted via the internet on a whim. “Golden Sun” is an unlikely encounter between two generations and two cultures, giving new life to an old forgotten demo on the other side of the Atlantic. And while Laure sings of wide open spaces, cowboys, and sunsets sinking into the sea, we feel the city surrounding her in “Miroir,” a song composed by Hedi Bensalem that laments the suffocation of living in a crowded metropolis where the sky is a distant gray smudge. This pressing need for air, this search for rest and total disconnection, is one of the album's central themes. It may also explain the ever-present sense of nostalgia that pervades the songs, a welcome respite in our current era of doomscrolling and darkness. Along the way, Laure soothes us with melancholy guitar, delivers poetry set to scattered piano notes, and takes us by the hand during lively, uptempo passages. We climb onto her wings, never straying too far from the ground, soaring joyfully above her moods.

Bézier ripples their way back to Dark Entries with Decompose, an LP of doomed spa music. Multi-instrumentalist Robert Yang has made numerous appearances on Dark Entries for more than a decade, with releases spanning the stylistic gamut from hi-NRG disco floor-fillers to lush ambient epics. Decompose, Bézier’s second LP, is perhaps his most introspective work yet. It is an album almost ten years in the making, a deep investigation of life, loss, and the struggle of knowing oneself. If one were to pull a tarot deck for this album it would be the Nine of Swords. The album honors the lives of the fallen victims of Pulse Nightclub. It honors lives lost or suffering through the ongoing genocide in Gaza. The title track takes the form of a Buddhist chant, a brooding synth-driven meditation that scales steadily until breaking into John Carpenter-esque arpeggios halfway through. Tracks like “Egg,” “Marionette,” and “A Fading Citadel Atop Black Sand Bluffs” build on this soundworld, one in which intricate melodies and cavernous reverb induce in the listener feelings of both claustrophobia and free-fall. The album’s dancefloor-leaning moments, like “Codebreaking” and “Split a Path Towards the Thicket” are spartan, tunnel-vision techno tracks speeding towards ego-death. Decompose chronicles Yang’s journey to find peace with himself, as a gay Asian American. During this process, they learned to “repot” long-lost parts of their identity so they could grow forth in wholesome fashion. The sleeve for Decompose was designed by Eloise Shir-Juen Leigh, and features a photograph by Frankie Casillo of Robert laying on a bed of rocks in savasana pose, resembling an ascetic, evocative of the monastic vibes of the record.

Accepting the darkness can be a liberating experience. Realising, and struggling with just who we are and what world we live in requires it. By further complicating the fractured sense of beauty found on his droning 2022 release, ‘I dreamt we found a way’, Bristol-based composer, Rob Winstone creates a language that encapsulates the lifelong reach for our own personal heavens, along with the darkness and fear on which those foundations are built.

Winstone’s instrumental palette continues to reach out far from behind his keyboards, however the sound of ‘sifting through heaven’ is stripped back and pared down, putting melody front and centre. 'postcards and loose tea', a love song written for Winstone’s partner during a period coming to terms with health difficulties had previously self-released with heavy spectral and granular manipulation from the artist. Here Winstone re-presents the original: “the stripped back recording I made in my old damp and cold studio that was in a building that has since been demolished”. It reflects the composer’s own journey, doing away with veils and histrionics, and embracing emotional bliss wherever it can be found, warts and all. Even the rumbling dark ambience of ’hospital corridor’ - where distant chimings, groans, and droplets synthesized from field recordings made nervously in a hospital waiting for test results coalesce - harbours a sacred-seeming beauty and aseptic warmth within its very bleak sense of dread.

There’s no better way to describe Winstone’s method than ‘sifting through heaven’. The hymnal organ chords, sketched out acoustic guitar phrases, scattering drum thuds, and meditative field recordings may flit between tenebrous to incandescent, but his focus is always on the embrace of love; “a view of life that embraces positive growth, yet doesn't deny immense suffering,” as he puts it. The album is bookended by two of Winstone’s most outright peaceful moments, summarising his core message: 'in spite of it all...' '...love finds a way'.

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.

Vel initiates the «Cuddle Protocol», her first ambient album, set for release on October 17, 2025 on PURR.


Vel, recognized for her striking presence in the contemporary techno scene, steps into new territory with the release of her first ambient album, Cuddle Protocol (P:\URR(3)_Cuddle_Protocol), the third outing on her own label PURR. Out October 17, 2025, the 9-track record is a personal and intimate statement, delivered on vinyl and digital formats.


With Cuddle Protocol, Vel explores the paradox of intimacy in a coded world. “I like the idea of a protocol for softness,” she explains, “of codifying something that should be intimate and spontaneous.” This tension runs through the album: fragile voices and soft layers unfold against serious, carefully structured arrangements, balancing tenderness with rigor.


Ambient music has always been Vel’s “first love.” Before producing techno, she composed ambient exclusively, and this album marks a return to the form in its most sincere expression. “I know this music will follow me all my life. It’s not a phase. It’s how I express myself most truthfully.”
Cuddle Protocol is about slowing down, embracing sincerity, and reaching for deeper connection. “When I listen to ambient, I access another world. It’s charged with emotion, it makes me drift and forget everything. That’s the feeling I wanted to share.”
Mastering: Sixbitdeep / Artwork: Adone Giuntini

2025 Repress

“UR wonders” What happens to jazz if combined with the current electronic sound tools used to make Detroit techno now?
What might Jazz sound like if the inspirational pioneers of fusion ie; Return to Forever, Astral Pirates or Weather Report had access to the music production technology available now or in the future?
The artform called Jazz was a unique reflection of “The African American experience here in the United States.Unfortunately by the 90″s it had been compromised by major record companies and made “smoother” for mainstream consumption and more profits.
Born in America’s rural black south Rock & Roll had suffered the same fate years earlier. Original artists eventually replaced by well studied clones and corporate mega profits!! Also happening the original artform of jazz appeared to be caught, processed & throughly EXPLAINED by people who sought to intellectualize “struggle & human emotion” into mere words and then benefit immensely financially by being authorities on the subject.
Hmm sound familiar?

As you watch the current intellectual colonization of the urban inner city African American art forms house music, hip-hop, Jungle & Detroit techno get studied, bent, twisted renamed and turned into EDM profit formulas.

There stands records like Nation 2 Nation that defy these definitions and inspire the next generation of Pioneers who continue the undefined exploration of Jazz like Derek Jamerson, Jon Dixon, Raphael Merriweathers, Desean Jones, Timeline, Galaxy 2 Galaxy, Raphael Statin & Ian Finkelstein. Mother to daughter, Father to son,

Nation 2 Nation a work inspired and that inspired what’s next.

Following up a string of releases on labels such as Mana, Sun Ark, Orange Milk Records and Abyss, Other People are honoured to present the new album Fobia by Argentinian musician and sound artist aylu, real name Ailin Grad. Inspired in part of Grad's many collaborative projects over the last few years, Fobia sees her collecting and rearranging the music and sounds fostered within these to create an intimate, spiritually charged album that turns personal struggle into collective resistance and resilience. What initially started as a way for Grad to process her own experiences with agora- and claustrophobia, and an attempt to navigate feelings of shame and a perceived demand to keep these feelings bottled up and hidden from the world, she began to realise how mental health struggles are not isolated incidents but part of broader systems of collective suffering and injustice. “It took a long time for me to discover that my issues were part of a system that produces these kinds of symptoms and that it takes a lot of courage to find a way around them. I have the feeling that more and more people suffer from these kind of things in some way or another, and what was at first taught as something you should be silent about and keep private, I discovered that the more you talk about it and share it with people you trust, the more you realise that it’s part of something much bigger.” This tension and constant pull between fear and joy, light and dark, is present throughout the album. From the strained breathing featured in opening track Yodo echoing the suffocating feeling from claustrophobia interspersed with the lighter textures of Obelisco Elysium and Prospero offering up a sense of relief, to the almost cacophonous, immersive soundscapes of El Sol Mal, mirroring the complex, often contradictory emotions when navigating mental health challenges. Fobia invites listeners to move through pain with honesty, finding strength in shared experiences.

Call Sender is the collaborative brainchild that unites the talents of Paul Elliott, a versatile multi-instrumentalist, composer, producer, and recording engineer from Suffolk/UK and Michael Reed, a multi-talented instrumentalist, recording engineer, and drummer residing in the Bay Area/USA. Despite working together for the past four years, the pair are yet to meet in person!

After connecting on social media over their love of drum breaks and vintage reverbs Elliott and Reed fostered their creative partnership by bouncing recordings back and forth via email and this virtual collaboration resulted in their first album, the jazz-funk inspired “Lost To The Storm” (Tru Thoughts, 2023). With four singles from the album gaining radio play and becoming a favourite for tastemakers and DJs, the pair began work on the follow up “Golden Langur”. With this new record, the aim was to retain their signature Call Sender sound, a heady mix of B-movie soundtracks, classic library music and psychedelic funk and soul, but also introduce elements of lo-fi soul as well as collaborating with some of their talented friends as featured artists.

These features include fantastic instrumental contributions from the incomparable funkmaster Shawn Lee (Ping Pong Orchestra/Young Gun Silver Fox) on “Brainforests” and the legendary JJ Whitefield (Poets Of Rhythm/Whitefield Brothers) who kicks ass in two tempos on “Two Tails”. Not to mention the silky-smooth vocals from the Bay Area’s Andre Cruz, vocal duet from Lucid Paradise that is reminiscent of Gil Scott Heron and Paul Elliott’s seven year old son Buddy drops a vocal on the future B-boy classic “Rainbow”. Together Call Sender has an old-school vintage foundation with a modern perspective. Influenced by iconic acts such as Klaus Weiss, Miles Davis and Nino Nardini and with a hip and funky sonic aesthetic, Call Sender’s music is nostalgic without being pastiche, has a sense of travelling at its core, having been recorded in different parts of the globe, while never hesitating on the direction of the music.

Paradise Lost’s sixth studio album (1997), which charted well across Europe, marked something of a change of direction for the West Yorkshire group: a transition from gothic metal to a more electronic approach, epitomised by the lead single ‘Say Just Words’, which remains a fan favourite and one of their biggest streaming tracks. This re-tooled aesthetic proved slightly controversial at the time but by the time of its acclaimed 20th anniversary reissue (mirrored here), for which it was remastered by Jaime Gomez Arellano, the general consensus was that the riffs, lyrics, and compositions on One Second are all vintage Paradise Lost. As noted by Decibel magazine, “There is a natural flow on display throughout the 12 songs that is akin to watching a favourite actor take on a somewhat different role than he or she is known for— and killing the performance.”

Repress

Now we look to the horizon of the unknown, We have no need of other worlds. We need mirrors. We don't know what to do with other worlds. A single world, our own, suffices us; we can't accept it for what it is, But the Journey has already began - Fantastic planet 004 Will be out soon with dearest friends @byronyeates @hamatsuki @reshio.dj Huge thanks @ggrdzelishvili for Art direction and @alden.tyrell 4 Dope mastering

Originally released following his acclaimed sophomore album, HYBRIDISM finds Ecuadorian producer Nicola Cruz at the height of his exploratory powers. Now reissued on limited editon green vinyl, this expansive EP re-emerges with renewed relevance—blending North African rhythms, ethereal Persian motifs, and vocal fragments that evoke both ancient traditions and imagined worlds. A contemporary take on global exotica, HYBRIDISM is a vital entry in Cruz’s ever-evolving sonic journey.

'Aima’, named after the refrain sung by Igbo girls from Nigeria, creates the illusion that you’ve dusted off a lost LP. The aesthetic details recall expertly produced French exotica from the 70s, an overall feeling of warmth and character rarely pulled off with such panache.

‘Naeku,' in Cruz’s words, is "a sorrowful song in minor tonalities, but with a warrior energy, strength and forward vision: a soul departs, but a new one arrives in the name of Naeku, a maasai child. Not all grief needs to be a suffering; a feeling which I can relate to the place I come from with a Quechua word: Llaquilla - triste, pero feliz (sad, but happy). As always, the 303 adds that heart touching feeling.” If there’s a template for Multi Culti’s ethos, Cruz has synthesized the formula: Masai lamentation filtered through Quechua wisdom with a touch of 303 for the soul.

'Drom Tradisie' is a nostalgic vignette that captures the fantasy of a scenic horizon on a lost beach, a portrait done with the FM domain of synths that somehow associates with tropical imagery.

'Third Eye Dub’ takes things deeper, exploring the fractal realm of concentration, a point where the Oud (played by Nasiri) acts on the pineal gland. This inward journey through the cavernous depths of the subconscious sails on a smooth modular groove that transports the listener across this psychic expanse, a filigree of Persian harmonies (in Shur, to be exact) tracing outlines in the dark.

Finally, 'Kawe’s Dream’ ventures even further into the imaginary spaces of the mind. It is an aural reconstruction of the Tibetan Bardo Thodol, or ‘Book of the Dead’, a sacred text that guides the spirit through the passage out of the body. In Nicola’s words "To paint that depth, I had these Tibetan chants in mind, that I ended up crafting with Ableton's vocoder over a piece of Ayan’s vocals (sung in a made-up language). A few notes, and it gave the gravity I was looking for in the song.” Stuff that only a producer as capable as Cruz could pull off.

Hybridism’s five tracks are sonically diverse, yet all possess an ephemeral quality, a pastoral, transitory feeling that travels through the music - we listen to the sounds pass us by, we might even catch a hook or two, but the feeling is of sand running through our hands, deep, elusive, beautiful.

A pioneering force in African music, Jo Tongo has always been on top of the game. Since the late 60s he has been recording music under his early Jojo L'Explosif moniker. His debut album "Jo Tongo" was released 1976 on Fiesta/Decca and features classic tracks like Jangolo and Piani. Now, after decades of underground influence and global recognition, his second album Sa Discossa (1980) is re-released for the first time. Being an electrifying fusion of African rhythms, disco, makossa, reggae and funk it is reflecting his lifelong journey of musical exploration and cultural storytelling and claims its place as an essential recording in the Afro-disco movement.
Jo Tongo's music is inseparable from his life's story-a journey that spans continents, struggles, and victories. From his early years as a leading African musician before the global rise of Afrobeat, to his deep roots in classical training, and his time performing in France and Germany, his sound is shaped by a rich blend of influences. Having played in bands across Europe, from American military bases in Germany to the jazz and soul circuits of Paris, he absorbed the pulse of multiple musical worlds, creating a sound uniquely his own.
"My music is my life. I never saw it as a way to become a star-I am a simple man," Tongo explains. "I came into music to say something, to tell about life, to share my experiences with the world." His perspective on fame and artistry is deeply rooted in his Cameroonian background. "I wasn't interested in business. I wanted to build something with music, to create a sound that was mine."
But Jo Tongo's music has always carried a deeper message. His work reflects his strong political stance against colonialism, social injustice, and oppression. "I cannot stay silent while my people suffer," he says. "Music is a way to resist, to stand strong, and to remind people of their dignity and their power." Throughout his career, Tongo has used his platform to advocate for African identity and independence. His songs, layered with messages of social consciousness, have continued to resonate with younger generations who recognize the relevance of his words even today.
Sa Discossa is more than just a disco record. It embodies Jo Tongo's philosophy of resistance, identity, and celebration. The title itself is a blend of "disco" and "makossa," reflecting the seamless fusion of African groove and the dancefloor energy that defined the era. Tracks like Bunya, sung in his native language, carry messages of love, gratitude, and resilience-sentiments that remain as relevant today as they were nearly 50 years ago. As Tongo describes it, "Every day, give thanks and praise to your Lord. Every day, show me your love. Every day, let me show you my tender love."
Tongo's musical journey also took him through the world of reggae, inspired by his exposure to American and Caribbean artists. "At first, I didn't like reggae-it was too slow for me," he admits. "But then I heard Bob Marley, and I realized the power in its simplicity. The rhythm, the
message-it was all connected to something bigger." He later found himself embracing reggae as an essential part of his musical DNA. "I realized that my music and reggae shared the same roots. We are all connected, all telling the same story in different ways."
Having spent much of his career performing across Europe, Jo Tongo reflects on his connection with international audiences. "I've played everywhere-from Africa to Germany, from Paris to other cities in France and what I've learned is that music speaks a universal language. You don't need to know the words to feel the message."
Despite taking a step back from the stage in recent years, he remains open to new possibilities. "Music is like a fire-it never truly dies. I have a lot to say, and music is the best way to say it."
For Jo Tongo, music is more than entertainment-it's a language of truth, a testament to history, and a bridge between cultures. The rhythm of Sa Discossa lives on, stronger than ever. With Sa Discossa returning under the African Edge series on The Outer Edge label, Jo Tongo's legacy continues to resonate, proving that real music never fades.