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In Signal, Brendon Moeller takes his expertise in techno, ambient and dub techno into deeper ambient and drone territory, crafting a richly atmospheric journey through sound for Constellation Tatsu’s thoughtful cassette label.

This album gently balances textures, merging natural and synthetic elements for a unique sonic experience. Highlights include the track 'Light', which opens with a minimal drone and subtle, pulsing sub-bass notes, setting a calm yet immersive tone. In 'Wires', Moeller skillfully intertwines organic and electronic soundscapes, bringing together the natural and technological in seamless harmony. 'Nowhere' shifts to a more aquatic feel, conjuring the sensation of being submerged in an otherworldly lagoon. The serene, electronic layering in 'Bask' adds beauty and peace through calm sequencing and warm tones. Closing with 'Beam', Moeller expertly blends real-world sounds and hints of a surreal, alien atmosphere, rounding out an album that’s both tranquil and otherworldly. Signal encapsulates Moeller's thoughtful production approach, giving listeners a deep dive into ambient landscapes that feel as expansive as they are introspective and adventurous.

Alkisah Versi Hitam is a radical deconstruction and reimagination of Indonesian duo Senyawa's most recent album Alkisah by Hamburg's Marc Richter aka Black To Comm. The original album was released to critical acclaim in February of this year as a decentralized release on a multitude of labels from all corners of the world, Germany’s Dekorder being one of them. Richter is now completely reinventing the original album from scratch by doing an almost Teo Macero-level production job here, cutting up the originals and (re)constructing new material from scratch.

Arcane chants and vocal cut-ups, fierce freeform percussion, grimy No Wave collage, monochrome drones exploding into multicolour streams, unearthly psychedelic Noise and sheer sonic mayhem, warped discordant rhythms between moments of calming beauty - it's never easy to digest but the outcome is both ecstatic and transcendental - never sounding anything less than a fully formed singular album.

A special cassette version of the album will be released by Jordanian label Drowned By Locals.

BLACK TO COMM is the moniker of Hamburg composer/musician Marc Richter who is creating intricate multi-layered collage based works for labels like Thrill Jockey, Type and Dekorder. His 2019 album "Seven Horses For Seven Kings" revealed an increasingly angry, transcendental and fearless approach, attaining new levels of urgency through noise, volume, rhythm, repetition, atonality and beauty.

Jogjakarta’s SENYAWA embody the aural elements of traditional Indonesian music whilst exploring the framework of experimental music practice, pushing the boundaries of both traditions. Their music strikes a perfect balance between their avant-garde influences and cultural heritage to create truly contemporary Indonesian new music. Their sound is comprised of Rully Shabara’s deft extended vocal techniques punctuating the frenetic sounds of instrument builder, Wukir Suryadi’s modern-primitive instrumentation. Inventions like his handcrafted ‘Bamboo Spear’; a thick stem of bamboo strung up with percussive strips of the animal skin along side steel strings. Amplified it fuses elements of traditional Indonesian instrumentation with garage guitar distortion. Sonically dynamic, the instrument can be rhythmically percussive on one side whilst being melodically bowed and plucked on the other.

They have collaborated and performed with many notable musicians such as Stephen O'Malley of Sunn o))), Otomo Yoshide, KK Null, Keiji Haino, Rabih Beiani, Trevor Dunn, Greg Fox, Arrington De Dionysus, Melt Banana, Damo Suzuki and Oren Ambarchi.

Tours (France) -based post-psych and deep-shoegaze powerhouse Stuffed Foxes are set to release their third LP, Standardized, on December 6th, 2024, via Bristol’s Stolen Body Records and French labels Reverse Tapes and Figures Libres. Songs / Revolving and Songs / Motion Return, a discographic diptych released in 2022, established Stuffed Foxes as accomplished ambassadors of the French rock scene. True to its predecessors, Standardized was recorded live in the Rennes studio of producer and musician Thomas Poli (Laetitia Sheriff, Dominique A). Mastering was entrusted to Matt Colton (Spiritualized, Swans, Shame). Early on, the six members transformed their youthful camaraderie into an adventure, embracing communal living (sharing a leaky roof had to be an integral part of the ride) and diving into the underground with their label, Reverse Tapes, a source of endless exciting music. They also adopted a democratic approach to creation fueled by endless jams, with the sexted striving to compose together from the outset. It is from this collective spontaneity that the unique expression of their music is born: long, hypnotic tracks, swirling mists of noise, and moments of vocal urgency that should be experienced in person during their invariably cathartic and incendiary concerts. It is a band that strives to stay true to its ethos, its soul haunted but never enthralled by the ghosts of its musical ancestors and battered icons. Their influences create joyful chaos: the musical walls of noise of My Bloody Valentine, the No-Wave drones of Swans, the psychedelic vapours of Brian Jonestown Massacre and the Post-Shoegaze eclecticism of Six-By-Seven. Standardized opens with Biting the Dawn, a Noise elegy that builds with relentless intensity. Léo's recitative voice soars above a searing blend of saturated guitars and echo-drenched drums. Next, Merry Xmas unleashes sharp, incisive guitar riffs reminiscent of Gang of Four and Fugazi, only to surprise with a dramatic twist that builds to a breathtaking, soaring climax echoing the brilliance of Ride’s most epic moments. Rough Up emerges as a Velvet Underground-inspired ballad, built on two simple acoustic guitar chords and an organ, showcasing a more subdued and vulnerable side of the band. In contrast, Standardized plunges into a powerful trance, unleashing a massive, deliciously primal wall of saturation with raw, unfiltered intensity. With Standardized, Stuffed Foxes appear to have reached an aesthetic milestone, transcending the semantics of the genres that once defined them. They have ‘de-standardized’ their sound and embraced a sense of freedom, opening up to the possibilities of a wider creative spectrum. Stuffed Foxes - Pretend to Be a Dog (Gamelle) (Official Video)

The intrepid composer and field recordist Jacob Kirkegaard is no stranger to perilous and hostile regions of the world. His 4 Rooms invoked the radioactive decay through the amplification of architectural resonance in Chernobyl, Ukraine; and he has ventured to the arctic environments of Greenland on a number of occasions to document that barren, icy territory. His recurrent use of shadow and mystery through his work both as metaphor and as extended sonic technique reflects the complex, existential conditions that cross-contaminate what we consider civilization and what we consider wilderness. Waste disposal, firearms, the decomposition of dead bodies, the eerie stillness of morgues. These have also been the source material in Kirkegaard's formidable work.

With Snowblind, Kirkegaard turns to history, and a poetic, failed attempt for a team of Swedish explorers to reach the North Pole by balloon in the late 19th Century. Perhaps driven by blind adventurism, perhaps consumed by his own delusions, S.A. Andrée launched this ill-fated flight in July 1897, registering only two days in the air before crashing into the ice and ultimately failing to navigate the frigid waters and ice floes. Yet documentation of their expedition - photographic, scientific, and diaristic - survived, to be discovered some thirty years after their deaths.

"I wanted to created a cold and hostile album, where there is no escape, no warmth and no happy ending," as Kirkegaard explains about Snowblind. "Yet, I wanted to leave out any immediate drama. It is the creeping shock, the icy feeling from realizing what has been lost and that there's no escape."

Yes, Snowblind is a very bleak album, but one that eschews the isolationist, long-form drone of conceptually similar works by Thomas Köner, Lustmord, Werkbund, and Lull with interconnected constellations of cryptic tone, thrumming reverberation, arctic bluster, and a plethora of harrowing sonic proclamations.

Out of the murky, mystic world of Komodo Kolektif slides the Gamma Knife.

In the corner of a dank, dark mind, a nebulous notion condenses and solidifies, featureless and blind...and from that Komodo Klay a new kreature is hacked, molded and (mal)formed.

“The foundations of some of these pieces were laid almost a decade ago, others more recently. All of them came into being as sketches intended as Komodo Kolektif tracks to develop but for various reasons this didn't happen. The Seven Heavenly Elements was first presented to the group in 2019 but partly through personal differences in musical taste as well as COVID throwing a spanner in the works it was put aside and never worked on collectively. The two Disciple of the Drum 'dubs' are essentially rhythm tracks using the rhythm and percussion of Disciple Of The Drone, also from 2019, stripping away the drone, the gamelan melody and finally, even the bass line, which was initially intended to be the fundamental driving force of at least one of these dubs. In the end neither of these two tracks became anything like the idea that I had in mind, but that's how creativity works sometimes. The vocal parts in Cantation Dub were added most recently, just a few months ago. Fire Dub is just an exercise in me trying to rein in some insane delays and barely managing. The Ghost of Water is an anomaly because many of the fundamental parts are taken from the same jam session recorded in 2015 that led to Djakarta 3001 from the first EP. If you listen closely you'll hear Graeme Miller on guitar (back when guitar was still featured in our weekly jam sessions). I discovered this unedited hour-long jam session on an older hard drive in late 2023 and decided to fashion something from it until what became Ghost of Water materialised: the heavily delayed saron instruments, the jaw harp, the percussion and so on. What makes the track an anomaly is that it is in some ways both the oldest and newest piece of the five. The Seventh Element takes one of the seven elements of The Seven Heavenly Elements (in this case the Mopho synth tuned to the Indonesian pelog scale and ran through the Boss DE-200's depth modulator) to which I then added some gong parts and field recordings from Bali.

Once complete, I realised with an album's worth of material sitting there which was more “Komodo Kolektif” than anything I would normally produce solo, there came the problem of trying to work out what to do with this distinctly Komodo-esque, non-Komodo material. I came up with the idea of releasing it under the name Komodo Kuts...but a part of me felt I'd be cashing in on the Komodo name so ditched that part entirely...but the kuts remained, which seemed appropriate when used alongside my Gamma Knife moniker (which has a long story of its own...in a nutshell I had a benign brain tumour which only 1 in 10,000 people get and which is most frequently removed with a gamma knife (radiation). In medical parlance the device used in this treatment is often shortened to GK machine. I had been using the DJ name GK Machine, which came from my signature GK Mackinnon, since 1994, in other words long before this diagnosis. In the end I had brain surgery in Spain without use of gamma radiation...but the synchronicity of the name connection fascinated me nevertheless. Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways).

Lastly, now that I've sent these tracks out into the world, I feel somewhat liberated and can move on from this fairly niche and specific sound. The gamelan instruments have been returned to Gamelan Naga Mas, from who we'd borrowed them, and the masks hung up. This does not mean that Graeme Miller and I won't work together again in future...I'm sure we will...it just means we won't be tied to working within the constraints of gamelan, synths, percussion and dub that we became known for. So stay tuned...surely something lurks around the corner” GKM, November 2024

The Last Wave (also known as Black Rain in the US) was the final chapter in a trilogy of films scripted and directed by the leading auteur of the Australian New Wave, Peter Weir. Beginning in 1974 with the absurdist black comedy-horror The Cars That Ate Paris, and followed a year later by the lush gothic mystery Picnic At Hanging Rock, The Last Wave was a landmark in existential horror. Sitting alongside other Australian eco-terror films (e.g. Long Weekend) the film featured a haunting electronic soundtrack that is as mysterious and beguiling as the spiritual themes of the film itself. With no LP issued after the films premiere in 1977, and together with the mystery surrounding the true identity of its enigmatic composer 'Charles Wain', the score is a largely unheard recording of pioneering experimental film electronics, easily compared to the music that contemporaries Klaus Schulze and Tangerine Dream were composing for Australian films during the same period or the electronic soundtracks of John Carpenter. Tense atonal electronics, synthesizer drones and manipulated Didjeridu all perfectly capture the film's ominous atmosphere, punctuating the slow hypnotic pace of this brooding supernatural thriller.

Steven Wilson is no stranger to composing music that appears to counter everything else before it in his catalogue. Bass Communion, his long running solo electronic project, is no exception to this perverse streak that apparently likes to turn all expectations upside down. The Itself of Itself, Bass Communion's first album for 12 years, skilfully pays testament to this. Long established as a purveyor of mostly atmospheric or ambient textures, the seven cuts that represent The Itself of Itself take detours from this approach in order draw as much from musique concrete, noise music, abstract electronics and uneasy listening. Whilst still rippled with the same shades of light and dark that can be found throughout all of Bass Communion's work, The Itself of Itself reveals a fascination with analogue sounds and, more importantly perhaps, 'unwanted' analogue artefacts like tape hiss, wow and flutter, static noise, and sonic break-up, taking the music into a space at once different yet familiar. 'Apparition 3' presents a stark nod to Wilson's established command of shifting textures steeped in penumbral gauze, while 'Bruise' is akin to a space probe adrift and headed towards a white dwarf as all communication is reduced to a disturbing and indecipherable crackle. Between the other five cuts we witness fragmented, garbled and buried voices, vast vacillating banks of grainy hum, what sounds like the dying gasps of an oboe, spooky swirls from an indiscernible source, swathes of tape hiss, moody drones, and spiralling slivers of noise. Meanwhile on the title track, a mellotron flute rusts and collapses in on itself in a way that renders it the very antithesis of the one deployed on 'Strawberry Fields Forever'. Everything adds up to a dynamic listening experience where unease, dread and comparatively claustrophobic torrents of sound make (un)natural bedfellows to moments of enchantment and serenity. Above all, The Itself of Itself sees Steven Wilson cutting his teeth on an album that's at once cinematic and moody whilst proving him to be a master in electronic music craftsmanship. It's an album that might surprise some of those who have thus far been paying attention to his work as Bass Communion, but setting out to please everyone was never part of his raison d'etre. The Itself of Itself catches Bass Communion spreading its weatherbeaten wings to embrace new strategies and a strong desire to journey elsewhere. Arriving in a wonderful Carl Glover designed deluxe cover also comprising a 24pp. booklet of his photographs and an obi strip, this version of The Itself of Itself arrives in December on Lumberton Trading Company as a 2LP pressed in an initial run of 1000 copies.

Mit ihren bisherigen drei Alben ‚Rock Brigade‘ (2016), ‚Fahrenhater‘ (2018) und ‚9112‘ (2020) im Gepäck sind Fire Action alles andere als reine
Newcomer, sondern bereits fester Bestandteile der finnischen Metal-Szene. Dennoch wird ihre internationale Karriere mit der neuen Scheibe ‚Until
The Heat Dies‘ und der Vertragsunterzeichnung beim renommierten deutschen Metal-Label Steamhammer/SPV zweifelsfrei an Fahrt aufnehmen.
Dafür sprechen gleich mehrere Argumente, das wichtigste davon: Musikalisch hat das Quartett um Gitarrist Juri Vuortama und Sänger Pete Ahonen
einen wahren Quantensprung vollzogen. Elf traditionelle, zugleich abwechslungsreiche Metal-Songs, vom groovenden Opener ‚Storm Of Memories‘
bis zum hymnischen Finale ‚Midnight Avenue‘, unterstreichen die große Weiterentwicklung der Gruppe auf ‚Until The Heat Dies‘, das Vuortama kaum
zutreffender hätte beschreiben können: „It´s riffs, riffs and riffs, and great melodies on top of it!“, erklärt er das knappe Dutzend neuer Songs.
Veröffentlicht wird die Scheibe am 29. November 2024 auf CD und LP sowie als digitaler Download. Bereits vorher werden Fire Action drei Singles
auskoppeln: Am 20. September 2024 erscheint der Song ‚Hard Days, Long Nights‘ inklusive Lyric-Video, gefolgt von ‚No Drone Zone’ plus Video am 25.
Oktober 2024 und ‚Survive‘ (ebenfalls inklusive Video) am 22. November 2024.

'We are thrilled to be able to bring you Yara Asmar's first two cassette releases in a deluxe remastered double vinyl gatefold package featuring all new art and design from Yara herself.

Both albums were originally released on Hive Mind Records in 2022 and 2023 and received critical acclaim around the world':

“Melancholic drifts sound through the overcast skies of synth waltzes and accordion laments, infusing ageless melodies with a sense of falling backward through time. History is stitched through gilded aural silhouettes and elegiac drones. Asmar’s music is visceral. While electronics beckon beyond the sunrise stretched through a metallic shimmer, synth waltzes and accordion laments sticks with us while we remain lost in the hazy doldrums, always crawling forward tethered to our past lives. Highest recommendation.”
Brad Rose, Foxy Digitalis

"...these tracks are a cushion against reality. Asmar creates music that unfurls in evanescent bliss, an invitation to a safe space both isolated and welcoming."
Daryl Worthington, The Quietus

"...a set that transmutes the instrument’s droning tones into a sweep of introspective, breath-catching moments of beauty"
Eric Torres, Pitchfork Best Jazz & Experimental Albums of 2023

"The combination and contrast of highly familiar and highly alien elements give Asmar's music a quality not quite like anything else I can name. The way she channels found voices into her surreal mix of sounds is particularly striking."
Byron Coley, The Wire

**Black vinyl. Gold foil-printed gatefold jacket** With its ethereal, buzzing acoustic riffs, helix of resonant drones and vocal delivery that often sounds like an ancient form of prayer, Julie Beth Napolin’s Only The Void Stands Between Us sure-footedly takes its place in the post-’70s experimental folk lineage. “This is cosmic folk of the highest caliber. Julie’s vocal melodies grow in your mind like they were planted on the shortest day of the year. An absolute treat for all of us temporal adventurers.” – Ben Chasny (Six Organs Of Admittance)

Recorded by long-time collaborator and producer Elliot Heinrich at the band’s own Pony Studios in East London, it’s clear that Tempesst spent time developing a sound tailored to the subject matter. Parallels can be drawn from the great alternative writers of the nineties (Stipe, Buckley, Cocker) by way of the storied lineage of the dark narrators (Cohen, Waits, Cave). “My process is mostly reactive, like writing a journal and reflecting on what I watch, read and listen to,” says Lyricist Toma Banjanin, citing “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus as an influence of the record. Forbidden Fruit showcases a new sound, shedding their previous Spector-esque production for a modern hi-fi approach. Tempesst maintain a surrealist soundscape with precision, conjuring images of René Magritte: layered sounds within sounds to draw the listener deeper. They lean into chaos, with fuzz-infused, reverb-laden guitars that drone through the record indifferent to harmony, restrained by a swampy rhythm section. Tempesst reach for the bright lights of the expressionist late eighties while descending into the rawness of the early nineties.

Producer, designer, publisher, filmmaker, all-round scene phenom - Lasse Marhaug returns with his first album since relocating from Oslo to the Arctic Circle, surveying his 35-year career for a set of grizzled, doom-pocked rhythms and foghorn drones pulled from the aether. Expansive and hard to categorise, it's a precision-tooled set of ice-cold tonal productions that heavily lean into Mika Vainio’s rhythm experiments, with extra levels of growling bass and curious noises to send us deep into the uncanny.

Lasse Marhaug has put his mark on literally hundreds of albums - working with artists like Jenny Hval, Merzbow, Jim O'Rourke, Kevin Drumm, Hilary Woods - so many others - yet he still regards himself as a primarily visual artist who got diverted into an occasionally different path. If his last album 'Context' was a kiss goodbye to decades of life in Oslo, 'Provoke' turns a new page, but one that draws heavily from memories of the distant past, reflecting on the way the topographies of Norway's frozen north helped shape his creative worldview. Weaving electronics into environmental recordings captured in the bleak Arctic winter, the album was mixed during the Polar night season, when, for two straight months, the sun never rose past the horizon. Somehow, even at its bleakest, Marhaug avoids the usual aesthetic signifiers for this kinda thing, finding elements of queered beauty in all the severity, juxtaposing elements that shine a bright light on all the odd spaces in-between.

A consideration of noise music's place in 2024, and whether it can still be a tool for subversion when its aesthetics have been so commodified, ‘Provoke’ also refernces an experimental '70s Japanese art magazine that attempted to define a new language for photography. Operating somewhere between these two guiding poles, Lasse feels his way through a subtly altered mode of expression, a new approach to familiar concepts. Album opener ‘Plates’, for example, gives it the full Ø treatment, like some exceptional ‘Oleva’-outtake, but , eventually, shards of interference start to exhale like horses blowing, creating uncanny sensations that hit through ambiguous feeling rather than sheer noise terror. Ritualistic, corporeal - hard to know what you’re listening to and why it makes you feel that certain way - so much more than just machine cycles optimised for their ultimately hollow brutalist aesthetic.

Marhaug paints vivid pictures from a carefully chosen palette, drawing us into a soundworld that's rich with contradictions and contrasts. Even the relatively deafening 'New Topographics' offsets its wall of distortion with a muffled, perforating kick drum, cutting into the noise like a knife through butter. And all of this preparation makes the album's lengthy centrepiece 'Monochrome Head' even more impactful; hinging on a Pan Sonic-like alloy of bass and drums, the track snowballs through tempered feedback and improv scrapes and whistles that pick up into an orchestral din. Marhaug accents the bluster with rhythmic hums that gather in momentum until they're almost oppressively heavy, as if everything's about to collapse.

A masterclass in quietly subversive world-building, 'Provoke' invites us to peer at an expansive sonic landscape and marvel at its intricacies, but this time around there's a Lovecraftian behemoth lurking somewhere beneath its icy surface.

Ursprünglich 2017 veröffentlicht, ist PHANTOM BRICKWORKS ein fortlaufendes Ambient/Drone-Projekt von Stephen James Wilkinson aka Bibio. Das Werk erforscht die menschlichen Echos, die noch immer an verschiedenen Orten in Britannien vorhanden sind. Wilkinson hat diese Orte besucht, ihren allmählichen Niedergang beobachtet und mit improvisierter und komponierter Musik reagiert. Neu im Jahr 2024 ist eine Fortsetzung mit dem Titel PHANTOM BRICKWORKS (LP II), eine 10-Track-LP, gemastert von Guy Davie mit einem Vinylschnitt von Hendrik Pauler. Die neue Platte lenkt die Aufmerksamkeit auf neue Orte – einige sind faszinierende, riesige Narben in der Naturlandschaft, andere überleben nur in lokalen Erinnerungen, historischen Clips und Fotografien. Einige bleiben aus dem alltäglichen Blickfeld verschwunden, während andere nur als Legenden und Geschichten existieren.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Did you know there are horses on the cover of Earth 2: Special Low Frequency Version? There are at least three in the right hand corner, gathered inexplicably near a white canvas tent, a human possibly perched among its folds. As widescreen and vast as the cover may seem, those little details-the horses, the possible human, the faint wisp of white clouds-give it depth and wonder, something to which the imagination can return. Did you know that the music on Earth 2-repressed now for its 30th anniversary, back in its original artwork, and accompanied by a riveting set of remixes that demonstrate the reach of what Dylan Carlson long ago called "ambient metal"-works much the same way? The surface is massive and obvious, the meatpaw riffs of Carlson and bassist Dave Harwell pounding and swiping and pawing at the speakers, a true bludgeon in three-dimensional sound. Listen, though, for the details in the corners, for the finesse beneath the force, and Earth 2 reveals new levels of depth and wonder. The widespread impact of Earth 2 suggests that others have indeed been leaning in, listening to these minutiae and making something new of them. A masterpiece without many genre precedents, Earth 2 surely helped send doom metal down its more modern drone, ambient, and avant-garde avenues. Those descendants are obvious. Perhaps more surprising and gratifying are the ways it has influenced electronic music, modern composition, and even hip-hop by realigning our senses of tempo, time, and texture. Earth 2 engendered a rearrangement of expectations, regardless of preferred form.

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

Keshavara tragen prächtige Schnurrbärte, verwegene Kopfbedeckungen und sprechen ein abenteuerliches Patois aus Englisch, Hindi, Deutsch und Gibberish. Auf ihrem neuen Album "III" kreieren die Kölner um den deutsch-indischen Musiker Keshav Purushotham Klänge, wie andere Leute Drinks mixen, nachdem sie schon drei genossen haben: Verwaschener Kraut-Pop und diasporische Dub-not-Dub-Exkursionen werden nach Augenmaß miteinander kombiniert und wild geschüttelt. Zuckersüß mäandernde Melodien, entlehnt einem fantastischen Niemandsland in der Grenzregion zwischen exotischen Library-Kompositionen und psychedelischen Soundtracks, verschmelzen mit den Grooves einer Rhythmusgruppe, die sich auch in den Tonstudios des funky Beirut der Mittsiebziger Zuhause gefühlt hätte. Das Ergebnis sind mit surrealistischem Zuckerrand gekrönte Cocktails mit der Wirkung einer halluzinogenen Götterspeise. Musik, die schillert und flirrt, wie eine Fata Morgana in der Wüste. Keshavara klingen in einem Moment, als hätte Ennio Morricone einen Bollywood-Film vertont, und im nächsten wie ein von Curt Boettcher produzierter Eden-Ahbez-Song, oder - nicht ganz so spinös aber nichts desto weniger fantastisch - als hätten Khruangbin und Sven Wunder endlich ein gemeinsames Album aufgenommen. In den glanzvollsten Momenten fügt sich das alles wie von magischer Hand zusammen und kulminiert dann in Songs wie "Spiegelmann" und "Tableau Vivant" - fantasmorgiastischen Partys voller transkultureller Clashes, die uns Hörer dazu einladen, sie in farbenprächtige Gruppenchoreografien zu überführen.
War das Debüt von Keshavara noch ein Solo- und der Nachfolger "Kabinett der Fantasie" im Kern ein Duo-Album, so sind Keshav Purushotham, Niklas Schneider, Benedikt Filleböck und Christopher Martin mit ihrem selbstproduzierten, schlicht "III" betitelten dritten Album endgültig zu einer vierköpfigen Band zusammengewachsen … und zwar um eine alte Farfisa-Orgel herum, die eines Tages als Geschenk im Proberaum gelandet ist: Ein, auf sämtlichen Songs mal mehr, mal weniger präsentes UFO aus einer Zeit der Slow-Jams, Live-Takes und des exzessiven Space-Echo-Einsatzes. Sein analoges Blubbern und sein wabernder Funk rollt dem warmen, organischen Bandsound den roten Teppich aus, und verpasst ihm einen zärtlichen Schubs Richtung 70er. Erfrischenderweise kommt er dort niemals so richtig an, sondern bleibt immer im Fluss. Denn das eigentliche Ziel der halldurchtränkten Korridore dieses Albums ist stets der Weg, genau genommen der kunstvoll gezimmerte Holzweg, der phantastische Irrpfad. "III" ist eine Reise, auf der Zeiten und Orte keine Fixpunkte sind, sondern austauschbare Koordinaten eines augenzwinkernden Vexierspiels. Da ist es nur folgerichtig über "Indische Götter im Sauerland" zu singen. Dass ungeachtet der Nostalgie, die alle neun Songs durchweht wie ein warmer Mittelmeerwind, niemals Sentimentalität aufkommt, ist nicht zuletzt diesem Humor geschuldet.
Die ätherischen Drones, sanft nuschelnden Akkorde und geisterhaft seufzenden Soundschwaden, die Keyboarder Benedikt Filleböck seiner altersschwachen Farfisa bevorzugt in den ruhigeren Momenten und den Instrumentalnummern des Albums entlockt, bilden einen stimmungsvollen Kontrast zu den beiden anderen Säulen des Keshavara-Sounds: Christopher Martins leichtfüßig hüpfenden Bass-Dreiecken und Keshavs sonnendurchfluteten Gitarren-Ornamenten. Im Zusammenspiel mit Niklas Schneiders crispen Drumbeats entsteht ein Fundament, mit dem die kaleidoskopischen Texturen und Melodien vollständig verschmelzen.
Das Ergebnis ist das bisher homogenste Album des Quartetts. Mit "III" erweisen sich Keshavara als gewiefte Soundalchemisten und Weltenwanderer, als eine softe Macht, deren Stärke sich aus ihrer enormen Musikalität, ihrer Fabulierlust und ihrem surrealistischen Witz speist.

Pia Isa is the solo project of bassist, guitarist and vocalist Pia Isaksen from Norwegian heavy psych/doom rock-band Superlynx. As much as she loves playing with Superlynx (already formed in 2013) and other people, Pia’s ideas for her solo-albums seemed more right to work through on her own mostly. Pia´s music is rooted in slow heavy drones, but also has a lighter, dreamy and hopeful side. She is inspired by massive soundscapes, heavy psych, meditative moods, desert vibes and Eastern scales as well as her Nordic coastal surroundings. Superlynx-listeners may recognize her slow, heavy and minimalistic riffs, and haunting sometimes chanting voice. Pia has an open mind to a lot of different music. Not caring about fitting to any genres but channeling honest and heartfelt music in her own way. The lyrics are deeply personal and stretches from the very inner self and throughout nature. On her new album Pia has worked more with layers of vocal harmonies and has given an old dark sounding nylon acoustic guitar more space in her massive distorted soundscape.

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

HOO - master builders of woozy dynamics, songs unfurl with a mysterious, hooky logic all their own to create deeply emotive, chaotic, cinematic and - surprisingly, with this album ‘III’ - indie pop tunes! Songs clocking in just over 2 or 3 minutes, driven by heavy grunge guitars & potty Moog magic, opening out at times during the breathtaking prog Ov Violence/ Evil Weeks and the epic gothy final track Method Papers. ‘III’ has been 10 years in the making and features friends Simon Rowe (Chapterhouse, Mojave 3), Ian McCutcheon (Mojave 3, Slowdive), Paul Blewett (Moon Attendant), Lee Lavender & long-time collaborator & award-winning folk artist Jackie Oates. The themes and feel of the songs meant they had to lay in wait in HOO’s church-like studio, patiently growing & spawning like a 70's Dr WHO monster. Newer songs like the almost indie disco Snake & Myself When I Am Real finally gave the album foundation. HOO songwriter Nick Holton explains “All my music, including stuff in the past with Coley Park & Neil Halstead (Slowdive), is made at home in my own studio ‘Oaki Room’, so they blend into one another and my broader life. This is why musicians like Paul Blewett, Ian McCutcheon and Simon Rowe are always in the band or on my records - because they are part of my life. I have always made music this way and intended to. Jackie’s beautiful lead on England Theme, a high for me, was a simple idea. A mirror, as is so much of what I write about, here pride and disappointment in your world. Politics, religion, conflict, human frailty & alien tentacles, the collapsing environment all feature heavily and inspire. Despite this, we aim to make these dark songs engaging & endearing, skipping about you at volume in a psychedelic fug.” “I cannot and will not explain what is going on, but ‘III’ definitely closes a door and feels the most complete work of my life” Holton concludes. ’III’ is playful, eccentric, explosive and shamelessly takes itself seriously. Finished and mastered by Heba Kadry (Beach House, Bjork, Slowdive). We hope you now enjoy HOO’s third album. “Highly recommended to those who dig cinematic dream pop & Krautrock.” Echoes & Dust “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo “Shoegaze guitars, space-folk synths, otherworldly drones & krautrock drums into soundscapes immersive, possibly hallucinogenic.” Uncut “Textural & cinematic guitar driven epic” Shindig “A place where you see shadows of ghosts and echoes of your imagination” HiFi World Highlights “50s sci-fi meets peak Reading shoegaze. It’s an ideal soundtrack for the new normal” Mojo feat ex-Slowdive & Coley Park

Die britisch-bengalische Musikerin Tara Lily aus Südlondon verbindet auf ihrem Debütalbum "Speak In The Dark" Alternative-R&B, Jazz, Electronica und traditionelle indische Klänge zu einer einzigartigen Fusion. Produziert von Dom Valentino, sind ferner US-Jazz-Trompeter Theo Croker, UK-Rapper Surya Sen und Archy Marshall (aka King Krule), mit dem sie schon die Bühne teilte, beteiligt. Erste EPs erschienen bei Motown UK, der Musikexpress zählte sie zu den hochgehandelten internationalen Newcomer*innen 2023".

- "Spellbinding" - The Guardian

- "Beautiful, melancholic" - Jamie Cullum, BBC Radio 2

- "One to watch!" - Jamz Supernova, BBC 6Music

- "An all-star jazz collaboration." - Clash

- "One to watch for 2024" - Simon Phillips, Jazz FM

- "Soulful and heartfelt" - Jack Saunders, BBC Radio 1

Honour's debut album is a ligament stretching from Lagos to London and to New York, curling across the diaspora and brushing the darker hues of blues, hip-hop, free jazz, ambient, gospel with Christian mythology and Yoruba folklore. As cinematic as it is painterly, Alàáfíà is a meditation on themes of life, death and love that pulls inspiration from the unexpected poetic profundity of casual conversations, field recordings, literature, ephemera, or personal archives. The result is an impressionistic vision in Black and Blur that both exhausts and implicates language_substantiating a mythos proposed by Fred Moten that sublimates boundaries between everywhere and nowhere; history and the present; the individual and the universal. Alàáfíà delineates a gothic landscape cut by overdriven beats, swooping orchestral blasts, choral bursts and ear- splitting fuzz, where the fleshly and spiritual realms commune. Dedicated to Honour's late grandmother, the title track began to take form after their last embrace and remains steeped in her influence and spirit_a tape-saturated composition that starts in Lagos and ends in London's smoke-stained cityscape, the song's dream-like quality developed out of the artist's grief and PTSD coping with this loss. Beneath the stretched guitar drones and stuttering loops, their grandmother's shared faith bubbles to the surface. "When Angels Speak of Love," borrows its title from two works by Sun Ra and bell hooks, respectively. Sculpting echoes of praise music into disorienting spirals perforated with syrupy DJ Screw-inspired breaks and sharp splinters of melancholic guitar, "When Angels Speak of Love" engages a conceptual dialogue with the spirits of both late thinkers, folding them into Honour's pantheon of ancestral guides. The album's ninth track, "Giz Aard ($uckets)," is a dirge of regimented drums which anchor this somber melody as it whirls into a blizzard of heartache, uncertain if its consequence will be death or eternal joy. The album's sole lyrical offering, "Pistol Poem (Lead Belly)," begins with a darkly humorous bar, "He went thru hell and back/ came back/ 2 get the strap," that swells into a haunting allegory based on the life of Philip "Hot Sauce" Champion. A modern take on the Blues, Honour's lyrics reify the artist's status as a student of both literature and popular culture, crossbreeding the artist's clever wordplay with additional references to Richard Pryor, Robert Johnson, Kelly Rowland & Bryon Gysin. Setting core principles of hip-hop, R&B, jazz and gospel music to atemporal soundscapes and compositions, Honour crafts a record that marinates in its own knotty contradictions. The ghosts that sit on the artist's shoulders have never been more tangible than with this emotive debut.

This debut full-length album by Stockholm-based composer and electroacoustic experimentalist Theodor Kentros, could easily be interpreted as 'just' an assemblage of pieces written between 2021-2024. Named after the paranoid hallucination (or, if said hallucination is real, the underground secret mail system) figuring in the 1966 Thomas Pynchon novel ‘The Crying of Lot 49’, it should rather be perceived as a very distinct, coherent stream running through his output during these years.

The six tracks – ranging in sound and disposition from serialised organ drones constructed to reach screeching and beautiful culminations, to minimalist, repetitive studies in tape loops and string synthesis – were composed and recorded in Stockholm and Visby at different occasions during down-time from his many other projects, which include a myriad of other commissions, co-running labels XKatedral and Kalkatraz Cassettes and touring with punk groups and solo shows.

Red in Clear Vinyl. First compiled as a double CD in 2002, Moon's Milk (in Four Phases) is a suite of four EPs that Coil released seasonally via their in-house Eskaton imprint across 1998. The line-up for these sessions were John Balance, Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, Drew McDowall, and William Breeze. Recorded primarily at their home studio in Chiswick, London on the eve of a permanent relocation to the small seaside town of Weston-super-Mare, the collection has long loomed as a pivotal and pinnacle work in the group's discography, but has never been officially reissued, or repressed on vinyl. Time has only ripened its tapestry of regal strangeness.Arranged sequentially in tribute to the equinoxes and solstices, Moon's Milk captures Coil at a revelatory crossroads, leaning deeper into improvisation, spontaneity, and sound design. "Moon's Milk or Under an Unquiet Skull" initiates the proceedings on Spring Equinox, a two-part netherworld organ séance woven from vocal drones, cathedral keys, seasick strings, and opiated undertow. From there, Summer Solstice skews lighter but no less incantational, with Balance embracing his voice-as-instrument across lucid dream torch songs ("Bee Stings"), purgatorial spoken word ("Glowworms/Waveforms"), sultry chamber pieces ("Summer Substructures"), and falsetto ravings ("A Warning From The Sun (For Fritz)").Autumn Equinox exudes more of a pensive and twilit mood, from the Rose McDowall-sung folk ballad "Rosa Decidua" ("I hear your voice sing near to me / I've put away the poisoned chalice (for now) / And lie down amongst the flowerbeds") to hall-of-lords hallucination "The Auto-Asphyxiating Hierophant" to the liminal string-plucked classic "Amethyst Deceivers," featuring excellent alien guitar by Breeze layered with Balance's oft-quoted couplet: "Pay your respects to the vultures / For they are your future."The album's final chapter, Winter Solstice, is its most swooning, remote, and ceremonial. Opener "A White Rainbow" stirs strings, layered choral vocals, and shivering rhythm into an imploding burial hymn. "North" oscillates bleakly, a ghost in the machine murmuring opaque prophecy ("This black dog has no owner / This black dog has no odour"), while "Magnetic North" is its inverse, a guided meditation of gently flickering software and surreal chakra poetics ("Red rose filling the skull / Yellow cube in the lower pelvis / Silver moon crescent below the navel"). The suite fades to grey with a traditional English carol ("Christmas Is Now Drawing Near"), rendered like an executioner's song by Rose McDowall's doomed, beautiful voice.The Dais box set includes the entirety of the rare Moon's Milk Bonus Disc CD-R / 2019 Threshold Archives CD, which includes three collaborations with Thighpaulsandra. This material is as rich and intoxicating as the previous four phases, ranging from electro-acoustic singing bowl rituals ("Copal") to dissonant electronic recitations of visionary Angus MacLise poetry ("The Coppice Meat") to ominous classical melancholia ("Bankside"). Once again, Coil confirm the vastness of their confounding, infinite alchemy, explored and refined across decades of experimentation - both sonic and bodily. From post-industrial to post-everything, theirs is an art untethered, in the wilds of its own design.

Dive into the pulsating depths of the electronic cosmos with "Star Travel," the groundbreaking double album vinyl release from the visionary techno maestro Orlando Voorn. Renowned for his innovative soundscapes and masterful command of the genre, Voorn takes listeners on an electrifying journey through the uncharted realms of techno music. Across two meticulously crafted vinyl records, "Star Travel" delivers an immersive sonic experience that transcends boundaries and defies expectations. Each track is a sonic odyssey, meticulously designed to ignite the senses and propel listeners into a state of euphoria. From the hypnotic rhythms of "Aerosol Waveforms" to the relentless energy of "Extraterrestrial" Voorn's mastery is on full display as he seamlessly blends intricate melodies with driving basslines and hypnotic beats. With a keen sense of experimentation, he pushes the boundaries of the genre, infusing elements of ambient, acid, and industrial techno to create a truly immersive sonic tapestry. As the needle glides across the vinyl grooves, listeners are transported to a dimension where time and space dissolve, and the only thing that matters is the pulsating rhythm of the music. Each track unfolds like a sonic revelation, inviting listeners to lose themselves in the hypnotic vibrations of Voorn's musical universe. With its lush artwork and meticulous attention to detail, "Star Travel" is not just an album, but a testament to the enduring power of techno music to inspire, uplift, and transcend. Whether experienced on the dancefloor or in the solitude of a dimly lit room, this double vinyl release is sure to leave a lasting impression on all who dare to embark on its exhilarating journey. Experience the future of techno music with "Star Travel" - a testament to Orlando Voorn's boundless creativity and unwavering commitment to pushing the boundaries of electronic music.

Acid-washed motorik drone with buried vocals from experimental duo.
Follows up, thirteen years later, from critically acclaimed album Common Era.

Realistic IX, the third full-length by the duo of Michael Jones and Turk Dietrich aka Belong, is both an expansion and excavation of their signature acid-washed songcraft.

Bleached guitars, metronomic drums, and buried voices rev, swirl, and seethe across shifting gradients of haze and hypnosis, alternately driving and diffuse. Melodies surge closer to the surface, flexing their form before resubmerging into quickening currents of feedback. Elsewhere the elements dissipate into a dusk of murk and microtonalities, electricity liberated back into infinite night.
Although it’s been thirteen years since Belong’s prior Kranky offering, Common Era, none of the duo’s rare synergy has decayed in the interim. Jones and Dietrich’s commitment to oblique states of motorik drone and liminal emotion continues to evolve and unfold, increasingly tactile and unreal, an alluring glow glimpsed through fogged windows at witching hours.

The learning process is just as much an act of healing as betterment. The enabling of solutions through sheer willpower and openness to discovery, or a noble mission, never completed. In that spirit, the latest album by Berlin-based Slovak duo Päfgens – comprising Jana Drábeková Kočišová and Filip Drábek – represents a pensive development for the project.

Drifting from their lo-fi shoegaze beginnings, Päfgens drone-infused soundscapes have become increasingly immersive and expressive “framed improvisations,” where spontaneous passages are captured, then revisited with fresh layers upon layers over the course of months, breathing and evolving naturally, mirroring the unpredictability of nature. Songforms have all but melted away, with ethereal guitars and bass nestling up against field-recorded sounds, synth beds, percussion, and singing bowl tones.

The framed improvisation on ‘Aspect of What’ explores love and loss, relishing both the joy and melancholy of paying tribute to Filip’s late ethnologist grandmother, Božena Filová (1926-2020). Her voice opens track 2, ‘Particles’, speaking of the humble desire to “help the people in the rural environment”, and the goal of “uplifting people to better living through education”. The album’s emotionally charged approach to improvisation is suitably uplifting and seemingly made without ego, the couple melting away into the flitting wall of rustling drones and heavenly fuzz. Even at their most serrated (the groaning guitar amp squall underpinning ‘Journey’) or when surrounded by chiming bells, clocks and bowls (‘Around the Clock’), Päfgens is ready to listen, rest, learn, and improve, extracting and nurturing hidden abstract emotion in every piece, plundering something universal and teachable from very personal depths.

"Vanatühi" by Kiwanoid is a technopagan concept album. Track titles refer to the word "nothing" in various languages.
The sonic landscape is crafted using deprecated tools: a first-generation 4-bit laptop, the DOS operating system, and a tracker program. Inspired by glitch aesthetics, the sound palette includes clicks, error noises, and low-bitrate techno sounds. Initially, the structures of the pieces may appear complex and chaotic. This electronic thicket might seem abstract, cold, and inaccessible, yet upon closer examination, it reveals a plethora of diverse species, coming across as somewhat nostalgic and warm, evoking surreal associations. From beneath towering sequoias peek pixelated ferns, LED eyes are blinking from below the undergrowth, and against the backdrop of a crackling campfire and cave paintings, a lively stomping of microchips unfolds.
Sudden contrasts, sharp cutting edges, a tachycardic bass drum engine, and irregular polyrhythms make themselves physically felt. Elsewhere, haunting lo-fi textures, hidden ambient drones, mysterious hums, and obscurely garbled samples offer introspective breathers. The dynamic range of the music is favourably extensive, and the raw imperfections of the sound are unmasked by reverb effects or other generic tools. Interwoven throughout are outsider rhythm loops, which could find a home at an alien rave party or a hobgoblin honky-tonk. Various human voice samples build a bridge to the listener, allowing them to embody a cyborg-like experience.

While each twist and turn remains unpredictable, these diverse approaches align in complementary patterns and stochastic regularities, making the whole surprisingly coherent, despite its chaos. The album doesn't bore the audience with intentionally irritating compositions or pseudocomplexity - it demands attention, but doesn't try to outrun its listeners.

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interest in an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has been an inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary Time Machines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes to the dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melody evoking an ancient, solemn mood. His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates and transforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving an electro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternately disembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn at Circular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces capture McDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - that which refuses to be spoken." McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamic orchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola, violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing between shrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, the album moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasy crescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking and inversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simple syrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers with short echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece: the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electrical storm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker and denser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choral voices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation to help usher in a break, and a new beginning." The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through with spiraling radiance. "In Wound and Water" sways with harp, plucked strings and eerie cello undertows while lush layers of disorientated electronics hang in the dusk. There is no resolution, only a faint gradient of fragile dissipation, leading into the album's harrowing and climactic closer, "A Dream of a Cartographic Membrane Dissolves." Processed voices (credited on the liner notes to "The Ghosts Who Refuse to Rest") contort, whisper, and gather as the rest of the ensemble sharpens, poising to strike. Then it does - grand, tragic stabs of strings and horns lashing the sky, storming heaven by force. The fallout is poetic and inevitable, raining embers into a dark sea. But the journey and catharsis of A Thread linger long after it goes silent. Like so much of McDowall's multifaceted catalog, this is music of immanence and alchemy, attuned equally to the sacred and the profane, to the tile and the mosaic.

Sun Reflector is the debut LP collaboration by Heffernan (Ivan The tolerable, All Structures Align, King Champion Sounds, University Challenged) and Pärk (Black Tempel Pyramid, Teeth Of Glass, Kosmonaut). Sun Reflector is steeped in a haze of primitive drum machines, fanned phase and sustained scuzz-rippled guitar chimes, an ambient electronic creation with emphasis on repetitive trance-inducing rhythmic pulsations of electronic sound and subtle counterpoints that slowly unfold as the rhythmic drive marches forth utilizing the Motorik 4/4 beat with the lysergic kosmische sonic textures of Cluster. With Heffernan (bass, guitars and drones) based in the Northeast of England and Pärk (synths, drones and loops) based in Colorado USA on the border with New Mexico - the portal they opened up between these environments creates a travelogue that unites physical and inner space, a series of trance induced states rendered in vivid colour, a delirious portal into the ether. ‘Harmonic Coast’ opens and is a heady downtempo affair, an earthly vibration that slips effortlessly between peyote peaking trekking trips & Balearic sunset vibes. The somnambulistic drift of 'The Sun' sets the stage with a series of shimmering, circular synth pulses where hidden details slowly emerge over multiple listens. Album closer ‘Fever Mirage’ creates a clear-eyed appreciation of the pastoral beauty that surrounds us, it’s a journey that summons up an occult-like dream of glacial arpeggios and whispering synths that pull your attention in to this hypnotizing listening experience. Sun Reflector is a collective sound in which a lot is allowed, and a lot is done. That combined with the compositional ingenuity where the heterogeneous timbres create a time travelled cosmic mysticism that summons up the spirits and visions of Harmonia, Cluster, Eno and Phillip Glass. Shimmering and transcendent we present to you for your listening experience ‘Sun Reflector’

Club music culture necessarily shifted gears in many ways during and after the course of the pandemic. Older participants found their way into other interests and younger participants took new reigns to orient spaces they felt good inside of. The agenda for the music, and the cultural industry surrounding it at large, took a more frivolous and “fun” turn. Clubs needed to recoup lost money, people needed more refreshing catharsis for their nightlife escape, and in some pockets scattered around the globe a newer and younger cadre of producers/promoters/DJ’s pulled optical cues from a scattering of “darker” influences to give an alternate aesthetic to the aforementioned “vibes” culture. In the midst of this, a large polarization of conceptual energy shifted within the compositional and utilitarian machinations of the club music culture leaving behind the brooding and cerebral placeholders for different kind of enjoyable hedonism. Terrestrial Paradise’ “Artificial Hell” harkens to another prescient time before that shift occurred. “Artificial Hell’ might just be an illustration of what all of this fun escapism encapsulates.

Terrestrial Paradise is the latest moniker from Montreal come Los Angeles based producer Jaclyn Kendal. Having developed and cemented her sonic positionality with releases on North American labels like Ascetic House and Summer isle over the years, as well as a series of monolithic live sets, Bank is pleased to announce Kendal’s Terrestrial Paradise first full length album “Artificial Hell”. Over the course of nine recordings, “Artificial Hell” gives a master class in pressurized industrial techno of the slower variety. Fitting with the legacy of Bank’s output since it’s inception, Terrestrial Paradise’s aesthetic sensibilities sit within the canon of a certain tinge of club music imbued with a sense of natural grit, sans pretense.

“Artificial Hell” nods to artists like Scorn, Regis, and 400 PPM while maintaining it’s own territory in the landscape of cerebral and brooding rhythmic techno. Ominous, mechanistic drones sit above succinctly exacted percussion composition and sound design. Throughout “Artificial Hell”, Kendal shows her proficiency with the push and pull of building and releasing tension. On tracks like “Salvation” and “Relativity” she melds her synth wash wallscapes with driving percussion, serving as both a hint and counterpoint to the the entirety of the latter part of the album taking on spartan ambient compositions as a way to keep the listener in a subdued stasis. This album is a statement piece from a long time participant in the North American underground music sectors. It reminds the listener through perilous, considered rhythms and darker drone impositions to cement themselves back into a place where not
everything is always a good time.

‘Empires into Sand’ is the first album of new material from Normil Hawaiians in 40 years. The group first refined their sound during the early 80s, hitting on a pastoral experimentalism that drew on ambient drone, motorik impulse and post-punk pep.
‘Empires into Sand’ came together in the familiar manner of their original three albums, with improvisation and nuance informing the blueprint of the tracks. It was with the official release of this last record ‘Return of the Ranters’ (originally recorded in 1984/85, but then unconsciously shelved) in 2015 by Upset The Rhythm that led to the group reconnecting with the intention of playing music together again. Normil Hawaiians played a launch show for that ‘lost album’ and followed that up with more concerts, including an appearance at Supernormal, a residency at the Edinburgh Festival, gigs at Cafe OTO. They were even chosen by Richard Dawson to perform with him in London.
Throughout this time, Normil Hawaiians revisited their original songs for live performance. However for a group always so interested in evolving their sound, it came as no surprise that they shirked at the idea of a faithful retread. The band pushed their songs into new inventive dimensions, still progressive at core, but now imbued with a cosmic uncanny. A cinematic approach that was always quietly present has come to the fore. The quaint weirdness of folk song, the humanity of communal practice and the group’s ecological mindedness have all found a place in Normil Hawaiians’ current sound world.
When Normil Hawaiians write and record music they prefer to gather in a remote location and live together for a while, such is their communal ethos. Being far-flung across the UK, the Family Hawaii (numbering seven key members) decided to encamp to Tayinloan, a small village on the west coast of the Kintyre peninsula in Scotland. They set up their own studio in an isolated, windswept house overlooking the sea and started the tape rolling. Noel Blanden from the band explains the process neatly: “we set up and began playing, slowly and patiently, allowing the music to take its own shape based on where we were staying and our ongoing friendship. We recorded for days, capturing everything. A lot of new and rich ideas began to emerge”.
Normil Hawaiians took their time to develop these threads at their own pace, allowing songs to mutate and settle over months. Simon Marchant deftly produced and recorded the album whilst also performing in the band, this marked the first time the band had total control of their own sound. The last few years has seen the band reconvene in Herne Bay, Faversham, London and Leith to record new parts, constantly responding to the changing form of these quietly spectral songs of defiance.
‘Empires into Sand’ incorporates samples from old rehearsals and live music into the new finished pieces, this is in continuum with their previous records. Snippets of sound from the static of short wave radio and satellite transmissions also embellish the work. In fact the whole album is stitched together with interludes, creating an acutely immersive 45 minutes. ‘Exiles’ opens the album amid swirling atmospheres, synth flights and recordings of Vilnis Egle (father of Zinta Egle from the band) retelling his experience of fleeing his home in Latvia during Soviet occupation in 1942. George Bikandy also features on this track talking about his flight from Syria in 2014. ‘Ghosts of Ballochroy’ is a winding river of a song featuring a lively discourse in Scots courtesy of Rodney Relax. There’s a commitment to truth telling present across this hopeful album populated with angels, incoming tides, long shadows and the rose-washed sun. “From our broken windscreen, we feel the breeze” soars Guy Smith triumphantly over the driving beat of ‘Waterfalls : Bedford 330’. ‘Big City Sky’ flutters and sparkles with rapid synth runs, tape-looped drums and Jimmy Miller’s commanding vocal. With ‘In The Stone’ Zinta’s melody is deliberately jagged and blunt, exaggerated by octave-layered vocals and interjections from Guy.
This is thought-provoking, boundary-bothering music. Honest in intent, a solidarity of vision. The album’s title is derived from a poem by band member Mark Tyler, who sadly passed away during the recording process and the transience of life is felt heavily throughout. Noel best coins the group’s wish for the album: “we wanted to create an album that acknowledges our history and also reflects who we are today. We remained true to ourselves and we wanted to make something beautiful without removing the edges.” ‘Empires into Sand’ certainly does that, it’s an echo from the past, an echo from the future.

Volume 3 of a set of collaborations between the prolific Argentine polymaths Reynols and the inescapable Acid Mothers Temple. Recorded in Buenos Aries on AMT’s 2017 South American Tour, the music has identifiable sonic elements from both groups but ends up sounding like neither, with a surprising weightlessness that keeps things jammy and psychedelic until the final track’s blustering rock. Taking up most of side 1, “Kicking Air Bricks” has a loose Gong/’70s Euro-classic vibe, with Satoshima Nani getting to swing on the drums in a way that isn’t always part of AMT’s steamroller, while the rest of the gang layers in abstract piano, percussion, glissando guitar, etc. “Multiverse Turtle Reflex” closes the side with a thick drone coda. Side two starts with Miguel Tomasin’s gentle vocal and organ accompaniment on “Smelling Oneiric Asado” before the group gradually gathers momentum with Wolf’s thick bass anchoring layers of clean and loose guitar interplay. “Lemurian Tsunami Inside A Hat” is a thriteen-minute heavy rock epic, with the Reynols’ guitars going head to head with Makota Kawabata’s easily recognized interjections, ramping up into a riffy crescendo.

NAKID presents the first album in years from Max Loderbauer (Sun Electric) and Tobias Freund’s cult Non Standard Institute. Delving deep into the aether with a double LP - almost an hour and a half in length - featuring ruined, vaporous and engrossing ambient variations on a theme.

Planing axes between iridescent new age ambient, sublime folk and avant-classical, to miasmic drone and plangent shoegaze; ‘A Day or Two’ charts the Non Standard Institute’s first actions in 6 years and serves as a compelling reminder of their intuitive work in abundance. Expanding and contracting their sound across 18 parts, they arc from heaving, oddly-tuned drones to smoggy, surreal soundscapes, bringing a wealth of fine-tuned instincts to the table. With Max Loderbauer’s 35+ years as Berlin ambient pioneer with Sun Electric, jams with Villalobos, and roles in Vladislav Delay Quintet and the Moritz von Oswald Trio, he’s matched by Freund’s 40 years of deep engineering expertise embedded in the experimental industrial and techno trenches.

The melancholy, Satie-laced piano meditations that grounded 2018's '5863' are gone, and the human touch that's been present since their very first collaborations is placed under the microscope, enhanced by their use of the Haken Continuum Fingerboard, a gestural synth that was developed to open up new modes of playing. Loderbauer's experience with the piano helps him make the most of the instrument's touch-sensitive 3D surface, while Freund uses two multi-channel loopers, piping the sounds through his arsenal of pedals.

The 18 tracks are billed as "unplanned atmospheres" that arc from sombre, drone-heavy material to humid, tape-saturated imaginary-island jams such as 'Listening To Cells' and 'Are You One Of Them'. On the latter, the duo work patiently, letting dusted string plucks tumble across each other while warbling pads hum below, bending like flutes. On 'Unlikely Events', anxious didgeridoo-like wails are ruptured by environmental rattles, before ominous voices lead us into a pocket of industrialised resonance. In time, the skies open up and the sounds morph into pastoral song, the drone blurring into hopeful pads almost as lucid and eloquent as AFX's 'SAW Vol. II', with sonorous synths that float over formless strings. Reflective, cinematic arrangements for flute and silvery ambient give way to diffusions of denser, resonant polychromatics and pucker up in outernational, alien ambient impulses recalling Connor Camburn jamming with dirashe folk pipes.

One of the most essential works from Nurse With Wound, coming in an extended luxury 3x picture LP and 2CD edition, with many unreleased, alternative versions and songs.

This album is the sister album to Current 93’s same titled album and it’s a crownjewel for collectors of avantgarde and experimental music.

The original release of Nurse with Wound’s gargantuan “Thunder Perfect Mind” in 1992 coincided with that of Current 93’s homonymous genre-defining album. Legend has it that the gnostic name initially appeared to Steven Stapleton in a dream as the title of Tibet’s then still nameless upcoming album. Both records feature contributions from David Tibet, Colin Potter, Rose McDowall, John Balance of Coil, Alan Trench of Orchis and Joolie Wood amongst others. The title and the partial overlap of the personnel on both albums isn’t quite where the similarities end, both albums have since become undisputed milestones in their respective artists’ oeuvre. At the core of the definitive 2023 Infinite Fog re-release fully overseen by Steven Stapleton are the two original tracks “Cold” – a classic unsettling rhythmic Nurse collage-fest, significantly closer to jittery psychelia than the oft-cited “industrial feel” and the epic “Colder Still”, easily one of the most mind-bending breathtaking NWW compositions up to this point and well beyond. The track soothes ghostly atmosphere and reveals new surprises with every listen, not least of which is a direct link to its sister release from c93 as well as the first appearance of the signature rhythm loop that would mutate and re-emerge on several later tracks. The album also is the first full-length collaboration with genius sound wizard Colin Potter who has since become a ubiquitous sidekick both on Nurse albums as well as in live performances. As a follow-up to what is widely acknowledged as one of the best-loved exercises in drone of the 20th century “Soliloquy for Lilith”, TPM is a much more varied but at least equally rewarding experience. Infinite Fog are beyond pleased to be able to offer a significantly enhanced, remastered and extended 3 LP version for old and new fans alike.

Significant Other unveils a new project: Pain Management. A new imprint presenting music and visual media across a variety of formats. The outlet launches with an original 4 track EP: When It Rains.

Christening the label with his first full length release since 2021, the subversive producer steps out from behind the curtain with a batch of tracks guaranteed to soothe psychic woes and challenge sound systems alike.

True to the name of the label, this debut release delivers a healthy dose of leftfield club weight. Tough and tender in equal measure, it’s a record that explores in-between zones. A fever dream of narrative experiments at the outer edges of club music, packing enough punch to shake a dancefloor, but enough delicacy to soundtrack the ride home. The final product is a meeting of outsider sonics and sleazy dance tropes, body music for restless minds.

The record begins with the lead single ‘RPG’ (A1). A smoked out, drug chug power ballad featuring fellow NYC underground alum James K. Anchored around a growling 4/4 battle beat, swells of dub and inchoate vocal cries rise intermittently from the haze. Within the fever dream fugue of thuggish sub weight and engine-room crud, a tender, sustained warmth shimmers.

A2’s ‘I Get Such Bad Headaches’ is a twisted club thumper built around a questioning vocal refrain. It’s a tongue in cheek nod to the label’s origins that takes shape in a sleazy beat track with some serious club weight. Slowed n’ chopped to the maximum, it’s a low slung sleeper-hit with attitude. DJ Screw meets Tylenol PM, a bass-boosted anthem for the neural punishment enjoyer.

The B-side opens with the title track, ‘When It Rains (It Pours)’, a droned out mess of distant voices and textural grit. Anchored around the titular looping axiom, the track has a deathly, abyssal weight to it. A claustrophobic hymn of surrender, faithful to its stark refrain.

‘Bad Blood’ wraps the record on a tender note. A sluggish heartbeat pumps beneath the fog of dub delays and distortion, propelling forward a lethargic rhythm. Out of nowhere a blissed out synth line pierces the tension. A sharp, emotive melody disrupting the paramnesia with something new. If the record’s title track suggests a downward spiral through some psychic storm, then ‘Bad Blood’ shows the outline of dry land coming slowly into focus.

Art Direction by Ciaran Birch