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Eager Buyers is an observation of longing, of memory, of attempted connection, of lost innocence, and irreconcilable dreams. It"s the sound of broken promises for a bright future, where rose-tinted glasses have lost their clarity, dirtied with disaffection over time. Across this sultry, smoky, cinematic epic, JASSS attempts to process mixed feelings amidst the modern malaise. Alluringly atmospheric and cerebral, but bold and direct, with high-spec sound design, JASSS spaces each element with expert definition. Searing swathes of noise nestle with crisp breakbeats, billowing bass, dark ambience, prepared piano, phosphorescent electronics and calibrated percussion.

Livity Sound welcomes Joe Milli to the fold with an assured EP of crisp club workouts that land between techno's evocative depth and UK funky's offbeat, drum-focused functionality.

Over the past few years Milli has been establishing his sound across a swathe of radio shows, guest mixes and releases, and he lands on Livity with a timeless take on the label's commitment to stripped back, atmospheric soundsystem music.

There's variety across the Deep Forest EP, ranging from the balmy bassweight house of the title track to the deep-diving dub pulses and bruk drum science of 'Look Again'. 'Keep That Wire' draws nervous energy from its synth hooks and the taut, angular beat before the rolling Detroit techno pulse of 'Expressions' brings the EP home in punchy, percussion-loaded style.

In line with past releases from the likes of Bakongo, DJ Polo and Tribal Brothers, Milli's strength lies in his ability to bend the UK funky formula to different styles, all precision-tooled for the club.


Livity Sound is a label set up by Peverelist in 2011 as a vehicle for a raw and exploratory strain of UK techno, rooted in the heritage of UK dance music and sound system culture. It has since become one of the UK's foremost protagonists for cutting edge underground electronic music.

Torn traverses the charnel realms of the grey area on his debut EP for DNO, ‘Taiga’. Steely beats and stony bass coalesce into chimeric rhythms across four enthralling constructions; techno and drum & bass seeping into each other like liquids in a solution, changing the very nature of both.

Opening with a solemn march shrouded in swathes of noise and jitter that blur the soundscape like the death throes of some unlucky video game character, ‘Wreak Havoc’ is an incessant builder. When it finally lets loose the chaos promised by its title, reinforced breakbeats rain down like great factory apparatus hammering out metal plates.

‘Whalebone’ is of a similarly industrial bent. Like a head full of rotor blades, it ripples with densely packed polyrhythms that rattle and whirr, new layers emerging from the churn to grab the consciousness before sinking back into the melee.

‘Taiga’, meanwhile, channelling the cold, ancient immensity of its boreal forest namesake, progresses at a plant-like pace — unhurried and purposeful. It's droning low-end seems to mask secrets, while a canopy of tangled percussion cuts angular shapes through the shadowy undergrowth.

And on ‘Stay’, the complex drumwork vibrates so rapidly around the track’s irradiated pads as to almost merge with them completely, rhythm and ambience becoming a singular hypnotic form.

A natural fit for DNO, Torn’s mystic machine music opens new pathways for the label’s darkling voyage through sound.

Rhythms of postmodern realism at the very bottom of the DNO.

Riding high on a prolific wave of output, Kloke returns to Mindgames with Lucidity — an album that confirms his position at the forefront of modern jungle.

Andy Donnelly has been actively releasing a broad swathe of electronic music since the late 00s, but it's his sharpened focus on jungle and drum & bass over the past 10 years that has cemented his reputation. As well as working closely with fellow scene leaders like Tim Reaper, the Australian artist has hit a flow state with his productions where the quality and quantity seems limitless. Since Mindgames started as a Samurai Music sub-label, Kloke has been a core part of the imprint's identity. Having already dropped the Mindgame 8 EP earlier this year, Donnelly is back with a full-length salvo of advanced jungle heavy on the technicalities and even heavier on the vibes.

Lucidity makes its mark from the very first blast of breakbeat science that opens up the title track. From that point on Donnelly works at full tilt, edging gritty textures into his sampling and capturing classic jungle's melancholic mystery through an expansive palette of re-pitched hooks. This is carefully crafted soundsystem music in thrall to the tradition of jungle, but at no point does it sound tired or throwback. One key element is the dynamic intensity of Donnelly's arrangements, shifting gears with devastating poise whether darting through the starry-eyed arps and deft breaks of 'Mobius Strip' or chopping around the jagged angles and noirish licks of 'Goose Cuts'.

Donnelly folds many moods into his jungle tapestries. 'Paradiso' conjures a smoky, haunting atmosphere while 'Nightfall' leads on techy darkside stabs before unfurling shadowy jazz licks that flicker like ghosts through the dense forest of drums. At all times, the commitment to mind-bending configurations of compound breaks drives the album forwards. No two beats roll the same as Donnelly indulges his precise and profound instinct for next-level edits and heavyweight production.

Gritty, raw and true to the roots of the culture, Kloke stands tall on Lucidity. It's the kind of detailed, deep and deadly album that shows jungle at its absolute best — a sound that still feels like the future in the right hands.

Vines, the solo project of New York-based multi-instrumentalist and composer Cassie Wieland, offers a window into her inner world through expansive swaths of sound. She pieces together a celestial mix of synths, percussion, strings, and vocoded voice, making music that is at once deeply personal and cinematic in scope. This diaristic approach first took shape with her 2023 EP Birthday Party, and is crystallized on her debut LP, I’ll be here. With the sweeping and vulnerable I’ll be here, Vines arrives fully formed as an artist who crafts deeply resonant and open music–the kind that invites listeners in to listen, reflect, and share in the journey of learning through living.

“It was through making music that I was able to meet myself,” Wieland said. “Anything I’m going through or feeling is something that somebody else out there can relate to, and that’s really special to me.”

I’ll be here is both a culmination of years spent creating gossamer soundscapes and an opening to a new journey for Wieland as an artist. The album grew out of her years as a composer and songwriter, and builds on the language she developed on Birthday Party, which transformed the tumultuous feelings of the passing of time into minimalist meditations. It was just a start, though–a prologue, a development of the kind of language and ideas she wanted to express. With I’ll be here, she digs deeper and writes music that feels more sprawling, further solidifying her singular voice.

Wieland’s musical composition process is similar to journaling, lending itself to the music’s honesty. When she writes, she makes room for all the ideas she has; in these sessions, there are no wrong ideas, and she allows the music to be attuned to the experiences she’s having at the time. With I’ll be here, Wieland zeroes in on themes of anxiety, loneliness, navigating human connection, and having to grow up from a young age, ultimately coming to a place of acceptance. And though it began as a journal written in solitude, her collaborators shape the music with her.

Working with friends, in fact, was a crucial part of bringing the record to life. “Everything that was supposed to happen came together so easily because of the people involved,” Wieland said. I’ll be here was co-produced and recorded with Wieland’s longtime collaborator Mike Tierney, a four time Grammy-nominated engineer who has worked with artists across the contemporary classical and experimental scene like minimalist pioneer Steve Reich, LA’s preeminent classical ensemble Wild Up, and various bands on Bang on a Can’s Cantaloupe Music label. Percussionist and composer Adam Holmes and violinist Adrianne Munden-Dixon are two other longtime collaborators who are frequent fixtures of her live show. Holmes plays synths, drums, and banjo; in live settings, his kit is loaded with elements of the songs that are then triggered by MIDI, making the music an interactive, evolving experience. The album’s gentle, filamented edges are colored by Munden-Dixon, whose poignant string melodies elevate Wieland’s introspective compositions, as well as cellist Helen Newby, saxophonists Julian Velasco and Jordan Lulloff, and bassist Pat Swoboda.

Wieland takes an economic approach to writing music, building the swirling and immersive landscapes of Vines through short melodies, lyrics, and phrases. As each element layers and interweaves, they grow into sprawling webs of ghostly sound. Prior to Vines, Wieland composed pieces for other people to play using a minimalist’s sensibility, writing slowly unfolding melodies for instruments like violin and saxophone. In recent years, she sharpened her solo style across a variety of singles and covers which have garnered significant attention on social media for their emotional resonance (“being loved isn't the same as being understood” in particular went massively viral on TikTok in 2024). Birthday Party, her debut as Vines, brought her writing to a much more intimate space, centering on her vocoded voice cloaked in feathery reverb. A series of recent singles, meanwhile, including “I am my home,” showcase the way that Wieland’s music is born from the story of her innermost feelings, extending far beyond just the self.

Though Wieland’s music often deals with dark themes, it unfolds with tender melancholy, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. On “Evicted,” Wieland wonders if she’s getting sick or moving on, if she’s lost or found. Her vocals expand with each lyrical repetition, as the instrumentals slowly encircle and the music’s rhythm grows and bursts into a heart-wrenching, yet radiant wave reminiscent of post-rock bands like Explosions in the Sky. “Tired” follows a similar trajectory, building from a looping, melancholy rhythm and floating lyrics into a solemn resignation. Elsewhere, Wieland takes a more ruminative approach: “Omw” begins with twinkling piano and melancholy strings that gradually transform into an undulating mass. It is a song born out of the warm feeling of reminiscence, the slight return of hope that comes with nostalgia.

With any searching journey, there is also a point of understanding. The title track closes the album with the freedom of acceptance. A marching drum beats steadily beneath Wieland’s open vocals, moving forward, ever onward as it flies into the ether. In Wieland’s delicately textured music, there is room to come into yourself, and learn to love whomever that is. I’ll be here is a special space that can be all your own, one in which to feel what needs to be felt. “This is music for your story,” Wieland said. “I want you to use it how you need it.”

2024 Repress

Prana glistens into existence as ethereal pads drift by, giving way to a subtle, almost deep house beat that pulses nicely, backed by tribal-esq percussion. A gently staccato synth pattern flutters in and out toying with the idea of techno ever so slightly yet keeping well within the realms of his usual sound. Simplicity is the key in this track and Deepchord allows it to evolve slowly and he toys with sweeps of reverb and FX giving the track a lush, organic sound.

Tantra gives off a tougher vibe than it predecessor. Gently layered, deeper, edgier synths open the track as percussive elements, swathed in FX form the basis of the groove. Bolstered by a typical Deepchord dubbed out bass line this track once again evolves perfectly almost without the listener noticing the subtle changes that give Tantra a deep and emotive flow.

Never one to sit still and be pigeon holed into a genre, Deepchord easily turns his hand once again a brings two beautifully crafted tracks in his own inimitable style

Representing the spirit of the underground in Dubai, Shadi Megallaa is a multifaceted music lover whose unwavering passion for music permeates throughout all of his endeavours. A pioneer of Dubai’s electronic music culture, Shadi’s roots lie with the foundations of modern day electronica: all shades of house, techno and beyond. His commitment to preserving and evolving the culture is inherent in his record shop, The Flip Side, which has been intrinsic to the growth and development of music culture in Dubai. As a DJ and producer he draws on a multitude of experience, diverse taste and a refined ear that has instilled the ability to craft compelling productions. On Spirits Of The Deep we find Shadi exploring the deeper side of electronic music, creating layers of vibration designed to immerse the listener in layers of positive vibration.

As prescribed by Shadi himself, we start the traditional way, with Side B (the info side), where ‘Microgravity’ transports us into the cosmos. Soothing sonics envelop a taut low end with crisp percussion and swathes of pad work cultivating an interstellar atmosphere. Subtly shifting layers keep you locked into a groove, as the track maintains its energetic pulse. The synth lines increase with intensity midway through, adding more potency. Across almost nine minutes Shadi takes us on an excursion beyond the stars…

This is followed by ‘G-Dub’, a smooth jazz-inflected piece full of soul nourishing goodness. Intuitive drum programming with a groove-laced low end form the propulsive backbone of this track. The dreamlike melodic elements are almost transcendent in their illuminating impact. With all of its elements combined, ‘G-Dub’ is a glorious foray into the depths of true deep house. Shadi keeps things interesting throughout, adding and subtracting layers to complement the pace. Those hi-hats and intermittent cymbal crashes are especially impactful. A delight.

On the flip we have ‘Pressure’, where Shadi’s UK breaks influence comes through. A characterful vocal sample features throughout the intro before we enter a world of unusual sounds. The beats are, once again, impeccably executed, accompanied by a dubby bassline and an ever-evolving cacophony of squelchy sounds and chirps. Running at just over 9 ½ minutes, ‘Pressure’ sees Shadi flexing his creative muscles with a heady, expansive composition that invites us on a deep musical trip.

Finally, ‘The Poet’ closes out the EP on an emotive tip. The track is dedicated to the Palestinian poet and activist Refaat Alareer, who was killed during an airstrike on Gaza in December 2023. It utilises Refaat’s powerful poem If I Must Die, with the spinetingling words taking centre stage, as Shadi’s beats, bass and bright pads provide the backdrop. A piano-led melody appears in the latter part of the track, amplifying its emotionally-charged atmosphere. A wonderfully imagined homage to a martyr for peace. As the samples state, Let it bring hope…

At this point the vast swathes of unreleased Muslimgauze material Bryn Jones left behind when he passed away over 25 years ago is as legendary as any of his work. And sure enough, there's still some being unearthed today. The new »Single #One« is the first in a series of four (three 7"s and one 12") taken from one of Jones' customary completely unlabelled DATs he sent to labels seemingly as fast as he finished them. Both sides here indicate that, even on what might have been throwaway efforts for other artists, Jones was constantly chasing his muse around new corners.

Side A begins with the kind of tough percussion loop often found on Muslimgauze releases, but even as foreboding synths start to swell in the background, Jones introduces a rhythmic, peppy little keyboard riff far jauntier than most things he created. Side B, meanwhile, takes Jones' looped hand percussion in a dubbier direction, but unlike other times he explored that space there are some elements (phased zaps, a slightly skanking rhythm) that, while not reggae exactly, makes this feel more like a traditional dub than Jones tended to make. Both sides stand in testament to a creator who never stayed in one place for very long.

A1 - Symbiotic Link
Kicking off another stellar, varied EP, ASC opens Symbiotic Link with an eerie introduction telling of a tense interaction between orcas in open waters before a thunderous break with immensely sharp venom-fueled snares often used by the likes of Photek back in the day aggressively seizes the attention, jolting and stabbing as the juddering bassline rumbles below - as synthy melodies provide respite in the mix.

A2 - A Single Emotion
Serving up another raucous, nostalgia-driven treat for any breakbeat fan, ASC channels his old-school mastery with a thoroughly absorbing journey through a variety of breaks, edited, chopped and filtered to perfection with dense, earthy basslines lying beneath. Lifted by a soundscape filled with light horn melodies, echoing vocal hits and washes of pads, you'll experience more than a single emotion here.

AA1 - Whirl
Time for a Hot Pants break serenade through swathes of atmospheric synths as Whirl expands ASC's diverse repertoire further still - an earworm melody at the forefront is provided by the bassline on this occasion - simple yet immensely effective. The bass intertwines with the breaks effortlessly while sci-fi effects and samples whoosh and fall with several tonal changes keeping things fresh till the curtains close.

AA2 - Frontier
A rousing cymbal kicks off a curious, deep introduction punctuated by melodic keys and a simmering undertone of suspense. Chunky old school breaks suddenly enter the mix with a continuous, enveloping bassline as the atmosphere builds steadily via micro melodies, noir vocal samples and delicate bells, as ASC closes another Spatial EP in his inimitable, unpredictable engaging style.

Words by Chris Hayes (Spatial / Red Mist)

A1 - Sequence Array
Exquisitely filtered breaks open Sequence Array as Aural Imbalance opens the EP with a glorious intro capped off with a tight 808 bassline solo before the dependable, rapturous crunch of amens thrash their way into the mix. Programmed with dextrous skill allowing the crisp subtleties of the breaks to breathe among the layers upon layers of floral ambience, this one is an amen journey to remember.

A2 - In Formation
A more understated affair takes the stage as In Formation is introduced by airy pads and light DJ-friendly filtered breaks in the backdrop before a punchy yet delicate break pattern - high on the juddering snares and low on the kicks - ushers us along through plinky melodies and mood-elevating synthwork, completing a journey of reflective solitude from the master of ambient atmospherics.

AA1 - Voices From Neptune
Light keys and excitable, shimmering waves of ambience kick off the elegantly composed Voices from Neptune, setting a sumptuous tone before the uniquely constructed breakbeats commence. Kicks and energetic hi hats & snares are soon joined with a light Hot Pants break, crisp and complimentary in the mix as low pass melodies bask in the soothing swathes of exquisite synthwork.

AA2 - Decoded Message
Closing out the EP, Aural Imbalance sets free his Decoded Message, opening with a quietly suspense-fuelled intro flecked with light hi hats before a yearning, mournful melody intersects with a tapestry of ambient pads and effects. Swirling with an array of subtle jangling melodies to form a kaleidoscope of spine-tingling mood music, the compositions capped-off with old-school breakbeats riddled with analogue charm and earthy bass.

Words by Chris Hayes (Spatial / Red Mist)

California and New York aren't the only US cities to have pioneered underground hip-hop over the years. Back in the nineties, southern states such as Memphis, Tennessee were also hotbeds for the fast evolving musical phenomenon. As we push on into the second millenium; from the swathes of short-run, tape-only releases that came out in the 1990's, some are at last being cut to vinyl. Shawty Pimp and the Big Pimpin' Productions crew were brought to international ears in 2014 when his album 'Comin' Real Wit It' was pressed to vinyl and sold out in the blink of an eye. Gyptology Records (a new Europe-based Hip-Hop and Egyptian Archaology styled re-issue label) now present a vinyl pressing of the 1995 sequel; 'Still Comin' Real'. Here are eleven original, raw rap cuts, remastered and restored with love. Available June 2018 for the first time in the format that never goes out of style. Vinyl only for now and in one short-run only, no represses. Produced with the full consent and participation of the artists.

Noumena is the second volume of music capturing percussionist Tim Barnes in a variety of collaborative settings recorded in extraordinary circumstances over the past few years. Since the 90s, he has collaborated with a range of talents in the indie rock, improvised & experimental music scenes. In 2021, Tim was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer"s at the age of 54, and he and his family went public with this immediately. The response from Tim"s network of friends and musical peers was overwhelming, and, beginning in late 2021, collaborative recordings were undertaken, coordinated and assembled by Tim"s longtime friend Ken (Bundy) Brown, with whom Tim had worked in the past as a member of the group Pullman, early pioneers of the new Americana movement in the indie scene of the late 90s. The recordings for Noumena feature the playing of Joshua Abrams, Oren Ambarchi, Ken Brown, John Dieterich, Darin Gray, Glenn Kotche, Robert Carlos Lange, Ro(b)//ert Lundberg, Douglas McCombs,, Matt Mehlan, Rob Mazurek, Tara Jane O"Neil Jim O"Rourke, Chad Taylor, Thollem, Britt Walford and Mike Watt. As with Lost Words, Noumena cuts a dramatic swath through a sweep of music styles, all of which are deepened by Tim"s versatile, intensely stimulated percussive feel.

Neon Pink Vinyl. For their tenth LP in a career spanning more than two decades, Tulsa's Unwed Sailor deliver their heaviest riffs, loudest squalls, and most deeply textured arrangements yet. Cruel Entertainment is a catalogue of contrasts - dissonance and harmony, hardcore crunch and post-rock grandeur, complexity and catchiness - that adds a vibrant new dimension to the second phase of their discography, spanning thus far from 2019's landmark Heavy Age up to the "vivid, starry-eyed psychedelia" (AllMusic) of 2024's Underwater Over There. Opener and lead single, "Rock Candy", roars in with a gale of feedback, pounding drums, and nimble bass, until a latticework of howling guitars ushers us into a more goth-tinged space. It's a characteristically intricate, energetic composition that flows with remarkable ease between its parts, and wastes not a moment of its three minutes. "Monster Collecting" brings a rare combination of melancholic and driving energy, reminiscent of avowed heroes New Order, but ups the ante with a tight, fastpaced rhythm section and litany of guitar lines, until opening up into a cascade of reverberating textures and tenuous sweetness. According to Ford, the title Cruel Entertainment refers to "the hardships of being an artist and musician in the crowded, imbalanced world of social media and streaming," where the completion of a new work demands that the creator also be a promoter, content strategist, and agent, among many other intensifying challenges. Pointedly drawing inspiration from noisier, rowdier bands - including Fugazi, Quicksand, and Cherubs - here they seek a much-needed catharsis in the ongoing fight to keep the creative soul intact. Second side standout, "Monty Donahue", typifies this form of release, as massive, mid-tempo percussion leads a fluid low end theme - inspired by the dual bass assault of Dianogah - and Swatzell's chords burst into shimmering nebulas across a labyrinthine arrangement that's equally loud and beautiful. Title track, "Cruel Entertainment", is a mosaic of sound for which Ford's bass provides the mortar: taut drums list between the channels, washes of guitar stretch to the horizon, and metallic heaviness punctuates the drift. There is a confident immensity here, proving that, although Unwed Sailor have witnessed a wild amount of changes in the music industry, their knack for creating complex, vital, and masterfully produced work remains untouched.

FABRICLIVE’s new incarnation as an artist-focussed label continues, with a stunning two-track 12” by the Hong Kong-born, Netherlands-based rising star Kiana Li, aka gyrofield.

Rooted in drum & bass but distinctly the sound of now, this single sparkles with freshness, and stands-out with an exquisite verve for detail and craft. Balmy and comforting, atmospheric and melodic, the cloudsurfing breakbeats and celestial propulsion of ‘Akin’ is pure friendly pressure, whilst on ‘Mother’ big vocals, low-end precision and techno swathes soar even higher.

“'Akin' and 'Mother' remind me of my earliest days writing dance music. These are two free-spirited, transportive pieces that feel like spreading my wings and letting the air take me. Brought skyward in the hand of fate, nurturing yet weathered by my very own ideals. We all wish for better days. And toil to heal.” gyrofield

gyrofield has released music on prominent labels including Critical, Overview and Noisia's Vision. Last year she released the album A Faint Glow of Bravery on Metalheadz, and the EP These Heavens for XL’s prestigious house bag series, which has previously showcased music by Blawan, Joy Orbison and Overmono.

gyrofield is a regular on NTS and an in-demand DJ, whilst radio/club support has come from Mary Anne Hobbs, Objekt, Special Request and DJ Flight. Press fans include Rolling Stone, Crack, The Quietus, The Fader, DJ Mag and Resident Advisor.

“Scintillating - a sonic portrait of heaven that takes drum & bass and imbues it with the divine” Resident Advisor

“An artist whose journey and sound are quite unlike those of anyone else” The FADER

“Her vivid productions are a breath of fresh air in the scene” DJ Mag

“Merging the atmospheric and experimental with the melodic and emotional” Crack

“Packed with shapeshifting sounds that examine the universe and beauty of nature. Fusing atmospheric and spaced-out sounds with danceable sonics” Dummy

"She will never sit comfortably in any one genre or play to expectations or rely on any standard production formulae” UKF

Back with a bang for 2025, FABRICLIVE re-enters the fabric Records fold, which also incorporates Houndstooth and fabric Originals.

For Fans of, KISS, Starz, Angel, and 70’s classic rock! Employing a dazzling mix of glam rock, hard rock, and progressive rock, Angel's outrageous, white-satin-heavy image and equally over-the-top stage shows, making them one of the more colourful arena rock bands of the mid-'70s and early '80s. Discovered by KISS bass player, Gene Simmons, the group issued their eponymous debut album in 1975, which hewed closer to prog rock than the glam pop that would inform future endeavours like On Earth as It Is in Heaven(1977) and Sinful(1979). The group released a total of 5 studio albums and 1 live album before going their separate ways in 1981.Formed in Washington, D.C., the group's self-titled 1975debut was recorded for the flamboyant Casablanca Records label--home to KISS--with a line-up comprising Frank DiMino (vocals), Punky Meadows (guitar), Gregg Giuffria (keyboards), Mickie Jones(bass), and Barry Brandt(drums). A heavy slab of heavy pomp rock with lengthy songs swathed in Giuffria's atmospheric keyboards and featuring the longtime stage favourite "Tower". Now to celebrate the50thAnniversarythis classic has been remastered and is being released on both a 6-pane l CD digipak and on 180G vinyl with liner notes by Rock Candy journalist Dave Reynolds. There are only 700 of the Black-Blue swirl worldwide. A must have for any Angel fan with classics like “Tower” and “Rock & Rollers”

Unearthed from the neolithic tar that eventually swathes all history, Aerial M"s early-98 Peel Session is once again among us. Compared to the studio takes, played strictly and singly by Aerial/Papa M-astermind David Pajo, these versions swing from the necks of road-burned players, breathing more bestially than their canonical cousins, glinting "pon the dark metallic roots that fed all of Pajo"s best guitar lines, winding thru time immemorial.

- 2025 Repress
- Black Bio vinyl
- Cut at 45RPM for optimum sound
- Printed on heavyweight board outer sleeve
- Vinyl comes in black poly-lined protective bag
- Housed in a heavyweight PVC protective outer sleeve
- Hype front sticker

Blue Lake's new offering 'Weft' sees its creator Jason Dungan unearth new musical terrain
with a mini-album which presents the projects evolution. Finding inspiration in the craft of weaving and embracing a collective spirit as a band leader, all while readying a new studio album expected later in 2025.

It follows the lauded album 'Sun Arcs' (2023) with Pitchfork naming it (Best New Music, 8.3), amongst numerous other accolades. Blue Lake is the ongoing musical project of American born, Copenhagen based musician Jason Dungan which serves as his artistic platform as composer and collaborator. Developed over the period of 2024 and witnessed at live performances across a swath of European cosmopolitan cities and festivals, the project stands at a new creative juncture. The earthy title track 'Weft' emerges with a sense of ease and familiarity as looping guitar riffs in open tunings bed in around a warm cello pulse that provides the essential heartbeat. These interlinking parts align to create his most explicit version yet of an American writing country music in Scandinavia. Dungan named the release 'Weft' as a reference to the weaving practice of his partner, Danish visual artist Maria Zahle, whose work "Torso" is featured on the album's cover. With her works providing a constant source of inspiration to his music and practice as an instrument-builder, Dungan found a symbiotic connection between their mediums, which is reflected in the music on 'Weft'.

'Weft' is a collection of new works that casts a net into new sound territories with distinctive timbres yet always channelled through the refined lens of Dungan's prism. Infused with an ongoing connection to nature, it furthermore expands his unique meld of off-kilter folk, jazz, country and left-field experimental ambience. 'Weft' then is an accomplishment of growth, of bolder objectives and of collaboration with like minds. The Blue Lake project takes a dynamic step forward venturing into new creative spaces while leaving some clues along the way.

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

The Confidence of Knowing by Talib Kweli and J Rawls offers a quintessential hip-hop experience that honors the genre’s classic roots. This album marks the duo’s first collaboration since Rawls produced “Brown Skin Lady” on the influential Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Blackstar album, a hip-hop landmark from 25 years ago.

With this release, Kweli and Rawls showcase their artistic growth and maturity, blending masterful lyrics with authentic boom-bap beats to take listeners on a journey through hip-hop’s soul. Tracks like the introspective “Breath, Eyes, Memory,” the nostalgic “Turnstyle,” and the homage to the Native Tongues in “Native Sons” exemplify their dedication to preserving hip-hop’s essence.

Featuring an impressive lineup of guests—including Jimetta Rose, Blu, DJ Rhettmatic, TriState, Coast Contra, Buckshot, Skyzoo, Planet Asia, Phil Da Agony, IDK, Middle Child, Georgia Anne Muldrow, Diani, Solene, and NIKO IS—the album celebrates the depth and diversity of hip-hop culture.

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.

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

The last couple of years have seen a renaissance for West Coast singer-songwriters. LA-based youngsters such as Drugdealer and Sylvie have attracted considerable attention releasing warm and mellow records tonally reminiscent of the early 70s. Most fans of this new/old sound are unaware of Bart Davenport's early explorations in the same sonic territory. His now 20-year-old "Game Preserve"album should gain an appreciative new audience with its first ever vinyl release.

In the year 2000, Bay Area troubadour Bart Davenport and several other musicians were recruited by a major tech corporation in Seattle to work on an algorithm-based music matching/search engine. It was what looked like the beginning of a promising career. After a year, however, the project was shelved. Bart and his colleagues were laid off with a healthy severance package... on the 12th of September, 2001. Not only had the musician's life changed, so had the world. Rather than blow the money on a holiday or new car, Bart knew he had to make a record. A proper album that meant something.

Back in Oakland, he entered Wally Sound Studios with former Kinetics bandmate Jon Erickson at the controls, and a swathe of talented local musicians. "With Game Preserve," Bart explains, "Jon and I really wanted to knock it out of the park. I wanted to utilize people from my old bands like Loved Ones drummer John Kent. I also invited my newer indie-pop friends from Call & Response, and a young Nedelle Torrisi. Harmony singing by The Moore Brothers was an essential ingredient on Game Preserve as well."

Both Erickson and Davenport fondly recall growing up in households where the music of The Carpenters, Joni Mitchell and The Eagles soundtracked their young lives. By the early 00s they were ready to reconnect with what is often referred to as the "Laurel Canyon" sound. "I'd buy used tapes at garage sales and play them in the car. "Ladies Of The Canyon" by Joni and Jackson Browne's first album were both in heavy rotation. Jon Erickson was getting deeper into the Steely-Mac-Doobie yacht-rock sound in earnest. A certain amount of childhood nostalgia led a lot of us back to that part of the 70s. I'd flirted with classic soft-rock on my first album, but that record was pretty scattered esthetically. I wanted my next one to be more focused. Jon and I made some ground rules: no electric guitars (except on 'Bar-Code Trees'). No synths. Most importantly, all the songs have an air-tight, super dead, close mic'd drum sound. Putting these sorts of limitations on the sessions will give your record a specific quality. In the case of "Game Preserve"it's mostly about tight drums, acoustic instruments and analog production. We used a 24-track, two-inch tape machine for tracking, then ran the mixes through an analog board straight to a 1/4 inch master tape."

While the album's sonic palette may be firmly planted in 1970, Davenport's songwriting covers a sizable landscape of moods and reflections. From the quasi-flamenco intro of 'Sweetest Game' to the somber Wurlitzer of 'Nowhere Left To Go', to the 12-string shimmer of 'Intertwine', "Game Preserve" tells a story of young love, lost innocence and redemption, crossing borders and oceans along the way.

Released in 2003 on family-run Oakland label Antenna Farm, the ultra-analog sounding "Game Preserve" was only made available on digital formats, including CD. Copies were later pressed by labels in Germany and Spain; the latter being one country the album actually did well in, establishing Bart Davenport with a small but loyal fanbase he still enjoys today. Two European tours as support for Kings of Convenience also helped gain a foothold on the continent. Back in the US, however, Davenport and his sophomore album remained quite obscure.

Limited promotion meant it did little, but for the music lovers that heard it, the album undoubtedly remains a classic of the era, deserving far more. Twenty years on, it now finally receives its vinyl debut. "I personally think it holds up well," says Bart of the album two decades later. "The idea was to make something that could be an homage to late 60s/early 70s West Coast pop but hopefully timeless as well. Years on, I hear it as just that. It was a colorful and brief period of my life that felt at times like it could last forever. I discovered the joy of working in a proper studio with a perfect cast of characters. I'm still very close with all these people and still play music with many of them."

black vinyl ltd. to 200 copies incl. album download code. Neun neue Songs + Interludes auf, die euch die Falten aus dem Hintern bügeln werden. Diese fast 50 Minuten feinster, eigenständiger, brutaler, technisch- klassischer Death Metal hören zusammengefasst auf den Albumtitel "From Origin To Decay" und werden als CD, LP sowie in digitaler Form am 22.11.2024 via FDA Records (Vertrieb: Cargo Records) veröffentlicht. Alles wurde einmal erschaffen. Und alles wird vergehen. Und aus allem Verfall kann eine neue Schöpfung entstehen. Dieses Thema findet sich in den Stories der 9 neuen MAAT Songs, die sorgfältig mit 2 separaten atmosphärischen Zwischenspielen arrangiert sind, um einen Klangfluss zu erzeugen. Von der lyrischen Seite werden philosophische Fragen des Werdens, Seins und Vergehens gestellt, indem lyrische Bilder und Stilmittel verwendet werden, die von der Mythologie und Geschichte des alten Ägyptens und des orientalischen Raums inspiriert sind. Textlich und musikalisch dreht sich das Album um den Haupttrack "Perennial Bliss", der das innere Selbst innerhalb von Zeit und Raum und außerhalb von beidem reflektiert. ,From Origin To Decay' ist extrem empfehlenswert for Fans von NILE oder BEHEMOTH. Alle Songs und Lyrics wurden von MAAT geschrieben und im Soundlodge Studio von Jörg Uken aufgenommen, gemischt und gemastert. Jörg hat bereits mit vielen Künstlern wie God Dethroned, Slaughterday, Keitzer oder Anvil zusammengearbeitet.

imited White Vinyl

Norwegian post punk duo Mayflower Madame return with their 3rd Studio album and we are delighted to welcome them to the Up In Her Room Family!

Norwegian band Mayflower Madame is set to release their highly anticipated third LP Insighton 1st November 2024. The lead singles, "A Foretold Ecstasy" and "Paint It All in Blue," have garnered widespread acclaim and extensive radio support, including airtime on BBC 6 Music. These tracks offer just a glimpse of what the album delivers—an expansive canvas of pulsating post-punk, shimmering shoegaze, and atmospheric psych-noir, masterfully blended with delicate sonic nuances.
Mixed and mastered by Maurizio Baggio (known for his work with The Soft Moon, Boy Harsher, and The Vacant Lots),Insightshowcases the band refining their sound into a sharper and more expansive sonic landscape than ever before. This album sees them exploring greater depths and heights, delivering a hypnotic journey through the shadows, filled with haunting melodies and dreamy melancholia. At the same time, it remains catchy and dynamic, with moments of vibrant brightness.
Insightis dedicated to frontman Trond Fagernes' stillborn daughter and is bookended by two songs—"Ocean of Bitterness" and "Insightfor the Mourning Hours"—that directly address this profound sorrow. Between these somber pieces, the album delves into a wide range of emotions, from nostalgic reflections on lost loves to feverish depictions of escapism and catharsis.
Over the past years, Mayflower Madame have gained a reputation far beyond their hometown of Oslo, Norway. They made their debut with the album ‘Observed in a Dream’ in 2016, which created a buzz in the indie music press and earned them tours across Europe and North America, while 2020s long-awaited sequel ‘Prepared for a Nightmare’ firmly established their position as one of the continent’s leading purveyors of cinematic shoegaze psychedelia swathed in 1980s post-punk and dark romanticism.

Ava Mendoza has never made an album quite as personal as her second solo full-length, The Circular Train. Through her decades of collaborations with Nels Cline, Carla Bozulich, William Parker, Fred Frith, Matana Roberts, and Mick Barr—plus years leading her power trio Unnatural Ways and playing in Bill Orcutt’s quartet—the guitarist’s name has become synonymous with virtuoso technique, raw passion, and visceral resonance, a player pushing the edges of the guitar’s possibilities. Along the way, from 2007 to 2023, Mendoza was writing these slow-burning, incandescent songs. The Circular Train is comprised solely of her single-tracked guitar playing and, on two songs, her corporeal singing. Her first solo LP of original material since relocating from California to New York City a decade ago, much of The Circular Train was honed amid pandemic years that clarified the virtues of slowing down. This expressive avant-rock is a definitive introduction to one of the most uncompromising and inquisitive visions in creative music. Mendoza’s thrilling melange of free jazz, blues, noise, classical training, and blazing experimental rock’n’roll all coheres with ecstatic feedback, with picking and solos that crest with shimmer. Sometimes she sounds like a one-woman Sonic Youth with guttural and poised vocals that equally evoke Patti Smith and blues greats like Jessie Mae Hemphill. Conceptually, The Circular Train is presented as a psychogeographical train ride through certain of Mendoza’s musical homelands. The songs draw on ancestral and recent familial memories, notably of her parents’ roots in mining towns—in her father’s home country of Bolivia and mother’s hometown of Butte, Montana, each country with its own history of colonialism, racism, forced labor, the eradication of culture and the subsequent excavation of it. These adventurous songs were composed in cars and planes, in the heart of the Mississippi Delta, in Los Angeles and upstate New York—which is to say in motion. “Ride to Cerro Rico,” named for the mountain and silver mine at the center of Potosi, Bolivia, was inspired by Mendoza’s great grandmother’s life there in a Quechua mining family. “Dust From the Mines” drew from that history as well as Mendoza’s familial lineage of miners in Montana, building up to stunning swaths of shredded iridescence. “Pink River Dolphins” was inspired by a visit to the Amazon rainforest, swimming with dolphins alongside her father—the pink bufeos that inhabit both Bolivia and Columbia—and the song is dedicated to the memory of Mendoza’s late friend, the Colombian-American trumpeter jaimie branch. They shared a fascination with those intelligent and agile creatures who often communicate by echolocation. “Make a sound, it comes back around,” Mendoza sings, and later, “Echo, echo/The answer in a sound,” evoking what branch knew well: through music we navigate life. The Circular Train contains one cover, “Irene, Goodnight,” composed by Gussie Lord Davis and popularized by Leadbelly; Mendoza has been performing it for over 20 years. Almost as deeply embedded in her repertoire is the penultimate track, “The Shadow Song.” “Treat your shadow kind and it might treat you good,” Mendoza sings on this song that she’s been reworking for over a decade, an emblem of devotion. “Treat your shadow kind and it might treat you right,” she repeats, becoming a blues mantra. What is a shadow self if not one’s secret world, which, once laid bare, awaits an echo, a return?

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?

Having spent their formative years in São Paulo Brazil, as a teenager, Lau Ro found themself uprooted from their home. Moving with their family to Europe in search of a better quality of life, their story was like that of many immigrants in the same position. Lau Ro's parents found work in factories and cleaning jobs, for the first few years in the North of Italy and then in Brighton on England's Southern coast. "We never managed to visit back home, so my connection to Brazil became largely made up of childhood memories and my fascination with all the 60s and 70s music I could find from there."

In Brighton, the young non-binary singer and composer would immerse themself amongst the city's vanguard of free-thinking artists and musicians. Lau Ro formed Wax Machine whose prefigurative, psychedelic community provided a glimmer of countercultural hope amid a backdrop of national political decline. From 2020-23, Wax Machine birthed three cult-favourite albums in as many years; indebted in part to their British psychedelic forebears from progressive folk, rock and jazz yore. But the kernel of Lau's Brazilian sound was already beginning to blossom across Wax Machine's releases. Now, taking root deeper still, Lau Ro steps forward with their debut album: Cabana.

Named after the small wood cabin at the bottom of their garden where the album was recorded, Cabana is a deeply personal record of memory, self-discovery and imagination. Melancholy and hope combine across ten tracks of dreamy bossa, ambient folk, fuzzy tropicalia and majestic MPB. The music is swathed in masterful string arrangements and trippy electronics in equal part, while Lau Ro's delicate, yet quietly confident voice takes acerbic aim (in both English and Portuguese) at polluted city life, while dreaming of a utopia, rich with nature and wildlife.

Like the musical equivalent of semantic drift, Lau Ro's displacement led to the creation of another Brazil. A mythic place in Lau's soul, as they put it, "where the sunshine and joy of my childhood remained untapped." Lau continues: "It's music that might sound as if it came out of a parallel universe Brazil, rather than its modern day landscape. I am nowadays rediscovering Brazil, going back as often as I can and trying to stay connected to these different parts of the world and myself."

Now on our sixth release & going strong, Brooklyn Sway returns with a heady combination of local producers, further-afield figures and scene-setting interludes to get that real Bucktown mood, accompanied by bold new artwork from NYC "Grafstract" muralist Fumero.

After words of wisdom from originator David Morales, St. Xose, patron saint of afterhours, re-rubs his own entry from BKS-01 into an electro flip with a forceful but smooth strut, Nathan Nothing's ephemeral vocals vanishing in spaces between steady bass pulses and broken beats. Those looking for late-night addresses check Noha's 'Madison Street 932', where the PanickPanick! label head proves his local cred with a funky, vocal sample-driven house jam equally at home on its eponymous street corner or somewhere later, darker, and preferably inside.

Label regulars DeWinter & Emma return with 'Unity', the spoken word Spanish vocals interweaving with choppy snare patterns and a room-filling reverberating bass roar that hits paydirt when English vox and a kick hit late in its second half. C&K are local legends Connie & Karina, and while that may not be some punters' first guess for their moniker's meaning, the track is an exercise in restraint and class, jaunty house swathed in dub echoes and hand drums that positively sways when the trombone lead swings in to carry the tune.

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

Dialling up the needlepoint rhythmic science and deadly restraint we hold so dear, SPD debuts on Sneaker Social Club with a taut four-tracker built for smashing systems with measured flair. It's no surprise to learn Will Sheppard has graced labels like Keysound, EC2A and Roska Kicks + Snares in recent times, given his sound taps into the UK bassweight lineage while maintaining a necessary futuristic tilt.

'Genbu' deals in the kind of stripped back, snaking sequences that keep a body of people rolling deep into the dance, powered by sounds so crisp you'd think they'd slipped out of a trouser press. Maintaining this sonic poise, 'Systema' is a lean, bleep-speckled roller with a firm grip on the square wave snarls lurking below the midrange.

'Willman' rides a choppier groove, but still Sheppard holds down the dance with a monk-like patience, finding power in the art of holding back before opening out into the subtly emotional swathes of 'OK' to round the record out. The devil is in the detail, and there are deep-diving layers to the sound of SPD, but this is a specific angle on club music that prizes subtlety and meditation over brash arrangement swerves and bait hype trysts. For selectors seeking sublime set builders, SPD has got you.

Part 3 in Legowelt's latest project "Hermit in a Rave Cave". Even lower slung house tracks with a twist from the unpredictable and unparalleled brain that roams the dunes of the Hague. Also responsible for Salamandos, Squadra Blanco, Polarius and a swath of other mysterious aliases.

Crime In Australia follows 2022's The Real Work, the first Party Dozen record that (some) people were actually waiting for; the one that Nick Cave sang on; the one that had a track that billy woods jumped on for a rework; the one that took them to the USA, Europe (twice), Japan, China and New Zealand; the one that saw Party Dozen hook up with a cool US label (Temporary Residence Ltd.); the one that made Bandcamp, Stereogum, Brooklyn Vegan and a whole swathe of Australian radio stations declare it their Album of the Day/Week/Epoch; and the one that made KEXP invite the band in for a live session, and made Sub Pop add to their hallowed Singles Club. The Real Work was not the first Party Dozen record, but it was in many ways where Party Dozen really started to put it all together. Crime In Australia continues to build on their arc, and elevates their ascent with a slew of new songs that are simultaneously more focused and more feral than anything they've ever done. And there are no guests on this one.

Crime In Australia follows 2022's The Real Work, the first Party Dozen record that (some) people were actually waiting for; the one that Nick Cave sang on; the one that had a track that billy woods jumped on for a rework; the one that took them to the USA, Europe (twice), Japan, China and New Zealand; the one that saw Party Dozen hook up with a cool US label (Temporary Residence Ltd.); the one that made Bandcamp, Stereogum, Brooklyn Vegan and a whole swathe of Australian radio stations declare it their Album of the Day/Week/Epoch; and the one that made KEXP invite the band in for a live session, and made Sub Pop add to their hallowed Singles Club. The Real Work was not the first Party Dozen record, but it was in many ways where Party Dozen really started to put it all together. Crime In Australia continues to build on their arc, and elevates their ascent with a slew of new songs that are simultaneously more focused and more feral than anything they've ever done. And there are no guests on this one.

Black Metal, Symphonic grandeur and Deathcore brutality collide in the majestic new album from A WAKE IN PROVIDENCE. 'I Write To You My Darling Decay' is a swathing monster of a record, citing influences from all across the heavy spectrum. As one of the established veterans of the Blackened Deathcore movement, AWIP are now here to set their sights on total domination as they rise to the upper echelons of the genre.

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

It’s abundantly clear from the first bars of their 5th studio album Through Other Reflection, that this is, and could only ever be, The Soundcarriers. From the enchanting vocal duets of folk-bidden Chanteuses Leonore Wheatley and Dorian Conway; to the precise bass lines of Paul Isherwood and the limber, jazz-cool, Hal Blaine-esque drums of his his co-songwriter Adam Cann; from the fairy-like flutes, 60s-garage guitars and organ sounds pilfered from the archives of exotica - listening to the Soundcarriers resembles a rediscovery of all the most prized, esoteric corners of the 1960s, all bundled up, warped and refracted through the quartet’s astutely modern cultural lens. Channelling Tropicalia, Middle Eastern psychedelic Jazz/Funk, The French Library sounds of Nino Nardini, and a whole host of lavish obscurites beside, Through Other Reflection delivers another sonic adventure from one of the most unique and distinctive voices of British Psychedelia. After an 8 year wait for their album 4 - 2022’s Wilds - it thankfully didn’t take so long for the follow-up this time round. In many ways, this feels like a companion to Wilds; recording again at their Nottingham warehouse studio, Through Other Reflection retains that same organic glow, all the passions and imperfections of a tightly clipped unit jamming out these living, breathing pop-art nuggets as if straight onto the acetate.”We wanted to keep an air of spontaneity with this album and not get too bogged with the recording process”, explains Cann, “It was more a case of getting the songs as tightly written and arranged as possible first so we could get them down quickly in the studio. It always takes longer than you think” Less packed with strident pop hooks as its predecessor however, the music of Through… has been given extra licence to breathe, stretch out, and wander more uncharted terrains. While gleaming psych-pop of tracks like ‘The City Was’, or ‘Already Over’ confidently carry on from where they left off, from the album’s 2nd track ‘Always’, the trip becomes a little less predictable. Starting out as a smoky Procol Harum-meets-French-Psych organ ballad, the music drifts, as if of its own accord into an eerie, garage trance that lingers, cycles, and hypnotises, growing ever stranger, reaching ever-further away from its point of conception. And almost every track on Through Other Reflections holds that outer-body moment, where the band fix themselves on a limber, lysergic groove, lose all grip on time and reality, and melt themselves away into a liquid state of blind euphoria. There are sequences on this record that feel more like rituals than songs, built upon a single hypnotic rhythm which, like the centre of a vortex, pulling everything under its beatific command. Take the finale to ‘What We Found’ for instance, sounding like a ghostly march across the psychedelic moors, or ‘Feel The Way’, where a single athletic drum-loop rises and rises, growing ever more urgent and suspenseful underneath its frantic harpsichords and rasping flutes. Full of such rich stylisms as these, The Soundcarriers showcase themselves as abstract storytellers par excellence by virtue of their textures and arrangements alone. Resembling Romantic composer Maurice Ravel, but if he had just a four-piece rock band at his disposal, Through Other Reflects is rich with detail; there’s shakers, rattles, clarinets, booming drums; there’s synthesiser swarms, chiming xylophones, vintage organs and experimental Cluster & Eno-esque ambiences. Within all this nuance the music flows like some undisclosed narrative swathed in a magnetic secrecy. “It almost comes across like a story in some ways”, says Cann of the album, “the music is quite sectional with elements of exotica and cinematic type layers, it's a good balance of grooves, tunes and weirdness”. No more is this “epic cinematic feel” heard more proudly than on short instrumental ‘Sonya’s Lament” - its innate, hauntological atmospheres befitting a Peter Strickland soundtrack, or the classics of Lex Baxter, the so-called ‘Founder of Exotica’ himself. On the other hand, providing a greasier undercurrent to all these bucolic sounds is a leaning towards a more “direct” lyricism referencing more “external concerns. Laying down the first tracks for the album in the wintry gloom of pre-lockdown 2020, and drawing inspiration from time spent in Berlin, Through Other Reflections returns to some of the post-apocalyptic futurism explored in 2014’s Entropicalia - a loose concept album inspired by J.G Ballard’s The Drowned World. “The songs explore a disillusionment with the way things are going particularly after 40 years of neoliberalism”, says Cann, “They follow that folk-song tradition of wanting to escape to an imagined time, but here it’s more urban than pastoral. The first couple of ideas I came up with when doing some music in Berlin and had some time to wander aimlessly. And think the atmosphere seeped in, particularly on The City Was and Already Over. He continues, “One aspect of the title, ‘Through Other Reflections’ is about synthesis and layers of influence. How things can be filtered through other things and change the perspective. This is something you get in cities as well.” Though, as with everything The Soundcarriers make, “It can mean anything. It also just sounds kind of cool.”

The second LP by Tokyo ambient conceptualists UNKNOWN ME began as a commission for historic Japanese cosmetic conglomerate Shiseido, conjuring audio approximations of seasons and scents, but soon flowered into its own refracted and rarefied environment: Bitokagaku. Translated as “beauty and science,” the album is the foursome’s first composed solely with software, reflecting the collection’s utopian, laboratorial muse. 
From levitational electronica (“A Rainbow in Meditative Air”) and vaporous downtempo (“Dancing Leaves”) to planetarium reverie (“Kitsune No Yomeiri”) and AI IDM (“Retreat Beats”), the music moves like weather patterns in a bio-dome: dazzling, microcosmic, and delicately calibrated. Percolating synths crossfade with field recordings from Shiseido’s research division; the sound of streams and distant birds blur into a processed haze; clinical voices read lists of precious stones. It’s a vision of new age as soft robotics, of serenity streamlined by sentient systems.
UM’s team of engineers (Yakenohara, P-RUFF, H. Takahashi, and Osawa Yudai) cite an eclectic swath of inspirations behind Bitokagaku – molecules, stars, Kenji Miyazawa, Akira Kurosawa, even “the sparkle of rainbows” – but their guiding artistic principle is as ancient as it is eternal: “beauty.”