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How do losers dance? According to Helmut, almost weightlessly, with soft feet, warm gestures, sometimes alone, sometimes together. Content Creatures, Helmut's fourth album, evokes the pop archetype of the "beautiful loser", who had almost disappeared from view in so-called late capitalism. In a present in which even suffering is often similarly instrumentalised and tailored to clicks like a competitive sport, this album sets a counterpoint: those who listen to it suddenly want to be enchanting losers again, useless and joyfully messing up, losing something beloved, having their hearts broken, giving up a dream, sinking into beauty.
You don't sink alone. Comforting harmonies envelop you, the voices of friends appear, accompany you for a while and then disappear again. Warm grooves, floating synths and delicate guitar lines characterise an indie sound that remains open and breathes.
Self-produced for the first time in his home studio in Neukölln, 'Content Creatures' sounds thoughtful and light at the same time. The album will be released digitally and on vinyl on 10 April 2026 on Berlin-based label St.Vladimir. There are four songs on one side and four songs on the other. The cover is adorned with an exceptionally pretty guinea pig. Helmut shows the special in the seemingly ordinary: a child's pet, the most ordinary of all, is his cover star and headstrong protagonist.

Wie tanzen Verlierer? Wenn man nach Helmut geht, dann fast schwerelos, mit weichen Füßen, warmen Gesten, manchmal allein, manchmal gemeinsam. Content Creatures, Helmuts viertes Album, evoziert den Pop-Archetypus des "beautiful loser", der im sogenannten Spätkapitalismus fast aus dem Blick geraten war. In einer Gegenwart, in der sogar das Leid oft ähnlich durchinstrumentalisiert und auf Klicks getrimmt ist wie ein Leistungssport, setzt dieses Album einen Kontrapunkt: Wer es hört, möchte auf einmal gern wieder ein bezaubernder Verlierer sein, nutzlos und freudvoll abkacken, etwas Geliebtes verlieren, das Herz gebrochen bekommen, einen Traum aufgeben, in Schönheit versinken.
Man versinkt nicht allein. Tröstende Harmonien legen sich um einen, die Stimmen von Freundinnen tauchen auf, begleiten einen ein Stück weit und verschwinden wieder. Warme Grooves, schwebende Synths und feine Gitarrenlinien prägen einen Indie-Sound, der offen bleibt, atmet. Erstmals in seinem Neuköllner Homestudio selbst produziert, klingt "Content Creatures" bedacht und leicht zugleich.
Das Album erscheint digital und auf Vinyl am 10.04.2026 auf dem Berliner Label St.Vladimir. Es hat vier Songs auf der einen und vier Songs auf der anderen Seite. Das Cover ziert ein außergewöhnlich hübsches Meerschweinchen. Helmut zeigt das Besondere im scheinbar Gewöhnlichen: Ein Kinderhaustier, das normalste von allen, ist bei ihm Coverstar und eigensinnige Protagonistin.

In the times when the known world order and relations between men and their surroundings are getting literally & figuratively suffocated we need to remind ourselves and our capable & wealthy ones that we can only breathe air.
Here’s a DIY air purifier music and vibes from the Osogovo mountain range.

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 is a compilation bringing together the early 2000s works of Marco Passarani under his Analog Fingerprints alias, collecting key tracks originally released on Rome’s Plasmek and Pigna labels.

For Numbers, the story starts long before the label itself. In their formative years, digging in Glasgow’s Rubadub, Passarani’s records felt like dispatches from a future city. Releases on his own Nature Records and on labels such as Generator and Interr-Ference Communications were mind blowing: rooted in Detroit techno, Chicago house and electro, yet pushing somewhere new. Much like fellow travellers Autechre, who would remix him in 2001, Passarani’s music balanced machine funk with restless experimentation.

Information was scarce, and you would hear these records first on the dancefloor or at listening stations in shops like Rubadub. Print fanzines like Ear and early web outposts such as Forcefield offered only fragments. But there was a palpable axis forming between Detroit techno and a new European wave of record labels including Skam, Rephlex, Clone, Viewlexx and Nature itself. It was the sound that defined Saturday nights at Rubadub’s ‘69’ parties in Paisley, just outside of Glasgow.

Passarani’s records, in particular, were instrumental in bringing together the future Numbers co-founders. Richard had already booked him pre-Numbers; meanwhile Calum (Spencer) and Jack (Jackmaster), then 16/17 year olds working alternate Saturdays in Rubadub, were so enamoured with the Roman sound that they travelled to Rome for the Bitz Festival in 2003 to seek out Passarani and Lory D at their source.

The first Analog Fingerprints release landed as a 12” on Plasmek in 2001, following the fractured, IDM-leaning 6 Katun material. For Passarani, the project marked a recalibration. A DJ first and foremost, he had moved into production via early computer setups, from a Commodore Amiga through primitive PC audio, Cubase and Logic, later experimenting with Ableton. The IDM scene had offered a playground for trial and error, but there was always a tension between abstraction and the dancefloor. Analog Fingerprints became the bridge: still intelligent, but with more dance than distance. After years of broken beats and complex arrangements, he wanted directness without surrendering identity.

Working closely with Francesco de Bellis and Mario Pierro in the Pigneto district, the trio formed Pigna as a vehicle for reclaiming a more accessible dance sound, deliberately steering away from the minimal wave beginning to dominate Europe. Sessions were fast, instinctive, often stretching late into the night with friends dropping by. It was a studio as social space, production as collective energy.

“In that constant search for balance, Analog Fingerprints was my way of expressing something closer to the classic dance floor. The track 'Tribute' - a tribute to my favourite early Detroit techno track of all time, 'First Bass' by Separate Minds - came after I realised I had almost lost my connection with the dance floor. The simplest step was to take inspiration from early Chicago and Detroit and twist it in our Roman ‘Pigna’ way. My goal was to create more accessible dancefloor tracks by mixing my unconscious Italo roots with my teenage love for that early US sound, ensuring the result was as far as possible from the minimal sound that was starting to dominate everywhere.” - Marco Passarani

Technically, the Analog Fingerprints tracks span a transitional era: Roland TR-909, SH-101 and Alpha Juno hardware met early software experiments. A Novation Drumstation rack stood in for the unattainable TR-808, syncing with TB-303 and TR-606. Yet the true secret weapon was Jeskola Buzz, a tracker-style modular environment that allowed step-by-step parameter control and strange melodic constructions, later exported into the audio sequencer. Even the lead on ‘Tribute’ came from an early PPG Wave-style plugin. It was hybrid thinking at a moment when digital tools still felt unstable but full of possibility for technologists like Passarani.

Behind the music sat Finalfrontier, a loose Roman collective orbiting Nature and Plasmek. Distribution and production were intertwined; importing obscure records into Italy built connections with like-minded outsiders across Europe and the US. Expensive phone bills and fax machines forged an “electronix network” that linked Rome to Clone, Viewlexx, Skam, Rephlex, Rubadub and Detroit’s Underground Resistance. There was a shared sense of survival and resistance, of operating against commercial systems.

Passarani recalls “The first time I found a sheet of paper inside an Underground Resistance 12” with info about upcoming releases... and a huge picture of Spock on the back. Imagine that: you love the music, you love Star Trek, and there’s someone on the other side of the ocean sharing those same values and sounds. It was the perfect match. We even gave our original company the suffix ‘Finalfrontier’: that says it all.”

Feedback in that era arrived physically: distributor faxes, conversations with visiting DJs, the experience of playing abroad and meeting kids who had connected with the records. Glasgow became a key node in a scattered outlier network. Passarani personally brought the first two Nature releases to Fat Cat in London, playing them in-store. Shortly after, a fax arrived from Rubadub in Glasgow requesting copies.

“I still remember that phone buzz and the fax paper slowly sliding out, with someone I didn’t know saying they wanted 75 copies of Nature 001. Or like the time we got a fax from the Rephlex crew just saying, “Hello Nature Records, Keep up the good work.” That was how we knew the message was getting through. It was a fantastic feeling; just one piece of thermal fax paper as an analog notification - the mood for the entire week would change.” - Passarani

The connection to Glasgow has since stretched across generations. As Passarani reflects, links often fracture as scenes renew themselves, but in Glasgow something different happened. New and old mixed seamlessly. There was a visible trust in what came before, and a willingness to carry it forward rather than discard it. Observed from Rome, it was deeply encouraging.

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 captures that moment of exchange: Rome to Glasgow, Detroit to Europe, experiment to dancefloor. It documents an artist recalibrating his sound and a network of scenes discovering one another in real time, connected by vinyl, faxes and shared intent.

Both multi-instrumentalists and seasoned producers, J and Peter took an all-hands-on-deck approach to these original collaborative tracks. The sonic seeds of "Underappreciated" and "Facile" were planted by Peter, JKriv cooked up the demo of "Over Suffa", and all three were completed together in J’s Brooklyn production studio. With live-recorded guitar, bass, analog synths, and drums/percussion by and a cohort of Brooklyn accomplices, the Facile EP marries live elements with modern club-ready production.

The punchy horns and no-nonsense vocals on "Underappreciated" come via Peter’s long-standing stage and studio connection with Ibibio Sound Machine, Favorite Recordings staple singer Olivya delivers the soulful EP title track performance, and Samy Love’s insistent vocal on "Over Suffa" is a pleading message to end the war and suffering in his native Cameroon.

With a remix of "Underappreciated" by French producer extraordinaire Yuksek, songs in both English and French, and influences ranging from boogie funk, 80s R&B, and classic Zouk, the Facile EP is a varied and dazzling collection of music for both listeners and DJs alike.

Italy-born, Dublin-based Lerosa is back on Assemble after eight years. With releases on labels like D1, Millions of Moments, Ostgut Ton, Acid Test, Uzuri, Hotmix and Ferox, he now returns to Assemble Music with his second solo EP. Four tracks crossing deep techno, acid, electro and breaks. Analog stuff!

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

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.

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'.

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

There was nothing in contemporary music like Chris Isaak’s Heart Shaped World when it hit shelves in June 1989. More than three decades later, the singer-songwriter’s third album still sounds unique — and claims a backstory nearly as fascinating as the retro-leaning material and standout performances that propelled it to sales of more than 2.5 million copies. Home to the Top 10 smash “Wicked Game,” the set remains a masterful mood piece that invites you to pour a late-night drink, sit in a dimmed room, and relish Isaak’s elegant albeit raw ruminations on love, relationships, and questionable decisions.

Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, and featuring the bonus track “Diddley Daddy,” Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP box set of Heart Shaped World unearths the staggering inner details, saturated tones, and brilliant atmospherics of the crisp production. It brings you up close and personal with Isaak’s spectacular singing — impeccably controlled, tense, brooding, steamy, smoldering, haunted — situated amidst stripped-down backdrops that allow every note to fully bloom and decay.

While Isaak’s ever-steady baritone remains the anchor, the contributions of his trusty backing band, the aptly named Silvertone, come across with just as much cool, command, and realism. The indispensable playing of guitarist James Calvin Wilsey particularly emerges with superb clarity and dimensionality. The character of his 1965 Fender Stratocaster, shivering twang of his spring-coiled fills, and his signature use of reverb, delay, and vibrato seamlessly match Isaak's patient deliveries and the band’s unhurried rhythms. Experienced on UD1S with ultra-black backgrounds and a nearly invisible noise floor, Heart Shaped World is in every regard a demonstration disc.

The premium packaging of this UD1S pressing befits its elevated status. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics. Aurally and visually, this reissue is for discerning listeners who desire to immerse themselves in everything involved with the album, not the least of which is the cover art depicting a lost-in-thought Isaak staring ahead and sitting in what appears to be an efficiency apartment. The image epitomizes the record’s lonesome temperaments and pensive themes.

Of course, if not for director David Lynch hand-picking two cuts from Heart Shaped World for his 1990 film Wild at Heart, the record would’ve probably suffered the same fate as Isaak’s prior efforts and gone unnoticed by the mainstream. Despite receiving raves from outlets such as NME, Chicago Tribune, and Rolling Stone upon its original release, the album stalled in the lower quadrants of the Billboard charts and, after a few weeks, dropped off.

Cue the ear of Lee Chesnut. Then the music director for a large Atlanta radio station, Chesnut heard the instrumental version of “Wicked Game” on Lynch’s soundtrack and started airing the album rendition at all hours of the day. Aided by a sensual video featuring Isaak and supermodel Helena Christensen, the song found its way into the public consciousness by early ‘91 and helped make Isaak a most unlikely mainstream star in an era where his techniques had little to nothing in common with popular tastes.

Despite its vintage vibes and shared DNA with legends such as Roy Orbison, Chet Baker, and Glen Campbell, Heart Shaped World transcends nostalgia, rockabilly, and throwback tropes. For all the melodrama and sadness at hand, Isaak’s gorgeously transparent singing dives deep underneath emotional surfaces. He mines subtleties that indicate his feelings go beyond heartbreak and anguish, and occasionally suggest frustration, menace, and anger. You can hear it in his quivering falsetto, and the slow and methodical ways he allows delicate whispers to break into shadowy phrasing that crosses over to the darker sides of romance and desire.

That approach bolsters the title track, which suggests calm yet moves on ominous currents — its simmering pace and snare-drum snappiness foreshadowing Isaak raising the volume and urgency during the coda. The southwestern-tinged “Wrong to Love You” plays with similar concepts of hesitation, unease, and discord, Isaak careful never to fully erupt and give anything away. His poised deliveries offer a master class in the art of insinuation and hurt on “Nothing’s Changed,” sent up with a wordless backing chorus and crackling guitar lines straight out of a Memphis blues joint.

Heart Shaped World further boosts its merit via its abundant stylistic variations, from the upbeat country-and-western trot of “I’m Not Waiting” and Spanish acoustic shimmer of the jazz-based ballad “Blue Spanish Sky” to the swinging horn-accompanied grooves of “Don’t Make Me Love You” and desert smokiness of the understated “Kings of the Highway.” On the latter, Isaak comes across as resigned and absolute. His singing and pain worm their way into your soul, and echo akin to the way the music prepares to strike when you least expect.

“Trouble going 'round,” Isaak croons right as the album begins. “Trouble going down.” Damn straight.

Three years after his debut album, London-based Jeigo levels up with a new long player that displays his knack for meaningful melodies and deft rhythms while blurring the lines between ambient, garage and breaks. Inspired by three months on an olive oil farm in rural Italy, there is a beautiful sense of isolation and inward reflection to these sounds, even when the energy ramps up. Sultry, airy vocals and delicate strings weave between organic grooves on the opener, while pitched-up and pained tones bring a futurist twist to the paddy garage beats of 'Echoes.' There is a more warped low end and hints of Burial's ghostly vocal and drum designs on 'Emptiness' while 'Groundwater' is shuffling house suffused with luminous synth work that brings a nostalgic pang. Etum is a masterfully melancholic study that leaves a lasting emotional impact.

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.