Cerca:swat

Back in 2018, two mysterious twelve-inch singles appeared in underground record sthops. Credited to Blotter Trax, a previously unknown outfit who cherished “faceless” anonymity, the pleasingly twisted and mind-altering music on show was a mutant form of electronic psychedelia. The included tracks were variously informed by analogue techno, acid, electro and minimal, but inhabited their own clandestine sonic space. These tracks were, we later discovered, lightly edited “straight to tape” jams, crafted on the fly by their creators in one of Berlin’s most admired studios.

By the time Blotter Trax delivered their follow-up on Clone offshoot Frustrated Funk a year later, the secret was out: the project was in fact a collaboration between two storied artists, techno titan Magda – a DJ/producer who should need little introduction – and serial underground aggravator (and man of many aliases) Jay Ahern, sometime Hauntologists member and acid techno royalty thanks to years spent releasing similarly shadowy EPs as T.B Arthur.

In the years that followed, and before the COVID-19 pandemic grounded them in Berlin, the pair took their incendiary, modular-driven live show to esteemed clubland institutions (Fabric included), on an acclaimed tour of Japan, and onto the stages of festivals across Europe.

Four years on from that appearance on Frustrated Funk, Blotter Trax are back in updated and expanded form. Now a trio thanks to the addition of bassist Hannes Strobl, the band is set to release their far-sighted, funk-fuelled debut album, Super Conductor – a pulsating, thrill-in-minute ride includes contributions from a swathe of notable guests (Nina Hynes, Ilhem Khodja and David Moss provided vocals, Shigeru Tanabu played guitar, Matthew Styles mixed the set and old friend John Tejada mastered it).

While rooted in electro and acid, the album is impressively low-slung, stylish and funky, with nods towards Blotter Trax’s mutual love of Arthur Russell, early ‘80s NYC downtown disco, leftfield new-wave pop and flash-fried punk-funk. Released by JD Twitch’s Optimo Music imprint, it charts the ongoing dancefloor evolution of a band whose days of mystery and mischief are now a distant memory.

A legend. Electric. Transformative. The greatest of all time. There’s no superlative that
Richard Pryor hasn’t already earned, and with good reason. From the very start, his voice was
both singular, truly unmatched, and plural, containing multitudes. In a breath, he embodies a
full swath of humanity, dropping his audience into the raucousness of Hank’s Place,
becoming everyone from the streetwise handyman to the lecherous farmers, beautiful black
Irma who loved to tell people to kiss her ass to Weasel who spent all the time he wasn’t
signifying on negging potential marks. He dances between pimps Coldblood and Smooth,
dips into the persona of Tarcy the cop, and transforms into tight-lipped Jesse, the basketball
beast. In another, he paints an entire scene-within-a-scene with “Prison Play.” He’s everyone
(a not uncomfortable feature of his existence: having grown up Black in a Jewish tenement
in an Italian neighborhood, he jokes that the general attitude among the local toughs was
“Get him! He’s all of ‘em!”), everything, everywhere. Along the way, Pryor punctuates every
laugh with a jab, sharply rebuking all the social ills that seek to divide and conquer, all the
filthy, inhumane -isms that offend the senses (or rightly should). And he does it all while
assuring his audience they have nothing to fear from the Black man—except his thoughts.

Tommy Prine’s debut album is not only a long-awaited introduction but a testimony to Prine’s twenties and the loss, love, and growth that has defined them. Co-produced by close friend and kindred musical spirit, Ruston Kelly, and beloved Nashville engineer and producer, Gena Johnson, the album is rich and dynamic, from cathartic jams to nostalgic storytelling. The son of late songwriting legend, John Prine, Tommy Prine grew up in Nashville surrounded by music, art and writing. As a child, he thought all parents were musicians, as his father “going to work” meant performing shows for adoring fans and writing songs. Tommy learned to play guitar by watching his father play, copying the ways his fingers moved and inadvertently developing his own singular style. Summers spent in his mother’s homeland of Ireland lent their own inspiration too and ten straight years camping at Bonnaroo introduced Prine to a swath of music not belonging under the greater Americana umbrella and his musical tastes grew to become decidedly eclectic, spanning John Mayer, Outkast, Bon Iver, the Strokes and more. In a way, what makes Prine’s own music so special is how he’s navigated life and creativity apart from his family’s name—as he once said, on stage, to a disorderly request for one of his dad’s songs, “You’re not about to get an hour of John Prine Junior.” It wasn’t until Prine reached his mid-twenties, though, that he considered a career of his own in music and began to share with others the songs he wrote in private. It took a long while for Prine to even share the songs he’d been writing about the triumphs and tragedies of his life, only recently deciding to let his friends and now-collaborators Ruston Kelly and Gena Johnson hear what he’d been putting together. This Far South is an emotionally complex but universally accessible debut that sonically brings together a colorful patchwork of musical influences and lyrically explores existential questions and emotional experiences.

Mysterious Belgian experimental electronics duo Suumhow returns with their third album, Years Failed Successfully.


The album opens with the duo's signature melodicism and broken glitched-up beatwork. It then ebbs into more sinewy territory with swaths of pulsing static and overarching widescreen vivid ambiance. It's new ground for the duo that displays some rather aurally fitting symbolism to the state of the pandemic era, with ambient music on the edge of hysterical hope and arrested emotions.


It's a gripping album that displays fine detail in its coarseness and somehow relief in its muted melodicism. When things seem like they might be getting too ominous, the duo boomerangs the listener back to their harmonious and glitched-up world as a means of much needed escapism.

Berlins ASEC liefert hier vier verschiedene Tracks ab. Seine kreative Kraft wird vom Dancefloor angetrieben, behält aber seine persönliche Perspektive bei. Von universellen Emotionen durchdrungen kam die Inspiration für diese Veröffentlichung aus "der Idee, Entscheidungen zu treffen, die unumkehrbar sind, und dem Gewicht, das damit
einhergehen kann. Die Unentschlossenheit, die Angst und die Endgültigkeit von schwierigen Entscheidungen"

Berlin-based artist ASEC steps up for the latest release from BPitch. A creative force who is driven by the dance floor, while also maintaining his own personal perspective, ASEC delivers four distinct cuts. Swathed in universally relatable emotion, the inspiration for this release came from “the idea of making decisions that are irreversible and the weight that can come with that. The indecision, the fear and the finality of making difficult choices”. ‘Crossing The Rubicon’ sets the EP off to a galloping start with a contagious rhythm and an unsettling melody. It’s dark, yet utterly danceable, striking a delicate balance between beats and atmospherics. The title track follows, with ASEC’s penchant for modular synths giving the cut plenty of flavour and character. Propelled by snub-nosed kicks and shifting percussion, this is a deep dive into the mind of a considered artist. Next up it’s ‘Our Light In Momentary Troubles’, a dense composition with thick solid low end frequencies dancing side by side with a gnarly analogue riff. Finally ‘Bleep Test (Tool Mix)’ closes the EP, utilising the power of repetition to ensnare the listener. An utterly hypnotic cut that will keep you hooked to the very end...

Exceptionally talented keyboardist, DJ and producer Moon Boots (Peter Dougherty) has revealed his third studio album ‘Ride Away’. The ten-track LP will land on March 17th on Anjunadeep. The first single, ‘Hot Minute’ featuring Black Gatsby, is out today. Written and produced over a nearly two-year period beginning in early 2021, ‘Ride Away’ contains themes of love, companionship, and personal exploration. Hauling in a crate’s worth of musical influences, Moon Boots has imbued ‘Ride Away’ with his characteristic blend of soul, disco, and house music, whilst also introducing the sounds of synthpop, breakbeats, and psychedelica. Marrying these eclectic styles is part and parcel of Moon Boots idiosyncratic sensibility, honed through years of living and DJing in Chicago, the birthplace of house music, and in the musical melting pot of Brooklyn. ‘Hot Minute’ is the first single and features the vocals of longtime collaborator Black Gatsby. With a sassy chorus that echoes Anderson Paak and Sylvester with a gospel-inflected breakdown, ‘Hot Minute’ shows off the full range of Black Gatsby’s talents and his unique musical rapport with Moon Boots. This bop is a tantalising taste of what Dougherty has been up to in the studio. ‘Hot Minute’ follows the recent release of ‘Come Back Around’ which featured indie darling Cherry Glazerr. The summer anthem was supported by the likes of KCRW, Triple J, and SiriusXM. ‘Ride Away’ follows in the footsteps of Moon Boots’s debut ‘First Landing’ (2017) and sophomore album ‘Bimini Road’ (2019). With an impressive catalogue atypical of the dance world, Dougherty’s third album represents both his tenacity and evolution as a producer and songwriter.

Featuring a swathe of colourful vocalists including the likes of Cherry Glazerr, Dope Earth Alien, and Nic Hanson, ‘Ride Away’ celebrates Dougherty’s longstanding affinity for collaboration, fun effervescent songwriting, and dance-focused production. Other international artists on the album include French singer Praa and Norwegian band Ora The Molecule, whilst longtime collaborators Ross Clark (St. Lucia) and Steven Klavier feature as writers and instrumentalists on the record, rounding out a global ensemble of incredible talent. Having accrued well over 100 million streams on Spotify alone, and having been championed by the likes of Annie Mac, Diplo, Danny Howard, and The Blessed Madonna, Moon Boots has established himself as a trailblazer of R&B-infused dance music.

Liberation is the latest evolution by David West, a dedicated underground dweller and traveler with his groups Rat Columns and Rank/Xerox and previously spotted in Lace Curtain and Total Control. Many familiar elements of West's songwriting creep out from the speakers this time around, albeit in a sonically more adventurous and personal manner. Swathed in analogue and FM synths, pinned down by near-funk drum machines, and with a vision expanded into the past and future. While in previous incarnations, West's alienated and fragile vocal has battled with jangling guitars and distortion, Liberation sets free his woes and ruminations into space. Taking inspiration from the heyday of Mute Records, the beginnings of electronic dance music's rudimentary sampling, broken and sound art, Liberation's debut LP is 10 songs of the road, about the nameless ghosts on the highway, accidental lovers, the alienation of the stranger in a strange land, the unbearable weight of freedom.
Beginning with a curveball, Liberation's first vocal sets out the position of the forever-cuckold, the sad lover hanging on: Looking For A Lover combines a Roland 707's loping mid-tempo with creeped-out synth lines as West intones his intentions close to the ear. Continuing in a more baroque manner, Move Me makes astounding use of string samples and space, with esteemed engineer Mikey Young's (Total Control / Eddy Current Suppression Ring) production prowess making for a distilled yet inviting loneliness. Forget is the night-drive centerpiece of the album, a 7 minute that erupts into a nihilistic sub-disco darkness. A constant theme of Liberation is the friction between West's characters: a frustrated love in victim-status paired with a menacing intent. The adorable, fragile stalker in the moonlight, illuminated by Whatever You Want, a
subjugated protagonist offering they have while the city burns. The brightest pop moment of the album has this in abundance: Cold And Blue, a classic synth pop jam to be played on repeat til the end of time, like New Order played by one man in his bedroom, with no drugs for a cushion, coming down the stairs, she looks like a perfect fear and Im a monument to your existence. But West has moments of touching sincerity that speak direct to the listener, as in album highlight Leaves Falling; a sparse string arrangement frames his vocal, "why do I keep falling for you I must just really like to be alone." Liberation is the freedom from attachments, about how sometimes they're what you want most.

Swing Family's Music Force is dramatic mid-80s synth-funk. From the maverick mind of Sauveur Mallia, it's a thrilling and uniquely brilliant album from start to finish. It's undoubtedly known and revered for its unbelievable standout track, "Mission Africa". Those that know, know. And if you don't know, get to know. It's the reason this record has been hugely sought-after for the best part of two decades. Originally released on Tele Music in France in 1985 but now tear-inducingly rare, this is the definition of "a welcome reissue."

Swing Family is basically a supergroup of French Funk royalty. Led by French disco lord and Arpadys maestro Sauveur Mallia, they were augmented by trombonist Alex Perdigon from legendary French funk rock collective Godchild, trumpeter Kako Bessot from funky fusion group Synthesis and saxophonist Pierre Holassian, a member of Giant, Janko Nilovic's French jazz orchestra. So, about as heavyweight as it gets for funky French goodness. Mallia handles, of course, bass duties throughout, as well as utilising his arsenal of synths including his E-mu, Yamaha Dx7, Roland MSQ 700, Mini Moog and Oberheimm.

The maximalist disco fusion of "Exorcistor" is perhaps a bit too 80s French cheese for most tastes, so either linger on its singular style or head straight to the soundtracky typo-funk of "Greewich Boulevard". A deep, swaggering powerhouse, it comes on like mid-80s Chic jamming on the set of Beverly Hills Cop with Kashif. Yes, *that* good. It's followed by the vital "Music Force", a synthy, sleazy instrumental full of sax and flute and those 80s drum fills. Just the right side of acceptable.

OR! You can even choose to forget all the rest and just stick "Mission Africa" straight on. A rumbling, strutting, afro-cosmic low-profile banger. The slick drums hit hard, the synth strings warm things up, overlapping horns add swagger whilst electric guitar flourishes and a chanted refrain sit in the mix quite perfectly. A track that's almost impossible to describe and do justice to. You just need to hear it. Preferably as you saunter into your favourite after-hours club, after spotting all your friends at once, as you cut a swathe to the bubbling dance floor. A track quite like no other, it makes you sit up within its first bars and, to us at least, sound like something you'd have heard on a Print Thomas mix from the mid 00s. Basically, it's cosmo-galactic.

The B Side opens with "Musical Stars", an oh-so-80s funk-lite track which, at times, sounds like something Daft Punk may have left on the cutting room floor during their Discovery sessions. Another unimpeachable favourite of ours is the druggy brilliance of "Gentleman & Musician". You can almost hear the white powder through the speakers, as soaring, acidy synths, slick, heavy beats and the irresistible interplay of the primo horn players create a real sleazy wonder. "Film Action" follows, a galloping horn-heavy synth romp with moments of extreme bass breakdown brilliance before the drama-synths of "Episode Double" take things up another notch as it oscillates between gorgeous funky horns and urgent bleepy magic. Super tense, super funky and super stylish. Just ace. The elctro-tinged horn workout "Fatal Lady" closes things out majestically.

The audio for Music Force has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring the punch of Sauveur's bass and those sick drums come through to the fullest. Pete Norman’s expert skills has made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original and iconic sleeve - complete with perky Liberty Belle - has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

More low 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. Part 2 in Legowelt's latest project "Hermit in a Rave Cave".

By now, you should all know the work of Andy Meecham as The Emperor Machine; since first utilising the pseudonym two decades ago, Meecham has delivered a swathe of acclaimed albums and singles.

The title, nature morte, is the French term for still life paintings whose literal translation is "dead nature." BIG|BRAVE color the songs of nature morte with unease, creating an air of beauty in decay, chords suspended in contemplative stillness. Robin Wattie"s experiences structuring lyrics and song forms on The Body & BIG|BRAVE"s Leaving None But Small Birds informed her work on nature morte, creating stories that, like many folk tales, are at once specific and universal. Wattie"s voice manages to be commanding and vulnerable with impressive range and intimacy. Even her gasps carve their way through the tidal crash of Mathieu Ball"s distortion wail and the pummel of Tasy Hudson"s drums. The momentum of nature morte conjures the image of a beast collapsing beneath its own weight before resiliently staggering upright to thunder onward. BIG|BRAVE convey heft from silence as deftly as they do from swaths of feedback and distortion to cathartic ends. "Distortion is key," notes Ball The three members recorded primarily live over the course of a week at Machines with Magnets with Seth Manchester, pushing the potential of their instruments beyond expectations. For each song, the trio"s songwriting and attention to detail deliver its simple but devastating emotional power. Across the album"s six pieces BIG|BRAVE create a tension between immediacy and patience, invoking the essence of disquiet, while conveying anguish through inventive arrangements and nuanced performances. nature morte captures BIG|BRAVE at their heaviest and their mournful fury is at its zenith, an album where each moment is so immense and consuming that it possesses its own gravitational pull.

The title, nature morte, is the French term for still life paintings whose literal translation is "dead nature." BIG|BRAVE color the songs of nature morte with unease, creating an air of beauty in decay, chords suspended in contemplative stillness. Robin Wattie"s experiences structuring lyrics and song forms on The Body & BIG|BRAVE"s Leaving None But Small Birds informed her work on nature morte, creating stories that, like many folk tales, are at once specific and universal. Wattie"s voice manages to be commanding and vulnerable with impressive range and intimacy. Even her gasps carve their way through the tidal crash of Mathieu Ball"s distortion wail and the pummel of Tasy Hudson"s drums. The momentum of nature morte conjures the image of a beast collapsing beneath its own weight before resiliently staggering upright to thunder onward. BIG|BRAVE convey heft from silence as deftly as they do from swaths of feedback and distortion to cathartic ends. "Distortion is key," notes Ball The three members recorded primarily live over the course of a week at Machines with Magnets with Seth Manchester, pushing the potential of their instruments beyond expectations. For each song, the trio"s songwriting and attention to detail deliver its simple but devastating emotional power. Across the album"s six pieces BIG|BRAVE create a tension between immediacy and patience, invoking the essence of disquiet, while conveying anguish through inventive arrangements and nuanced performances. nature morte captures BIG|BRAVE at their heaviest and their mournful fury is at its zenith, an album where each moment is so immense and consuming that it possesses its own gravitational pull.

Sophomore album from the singer who NPR are calling "the Next Queen Of Americana Folk." Boomerang Town marks a bold step forward for this country-folk-leaning singer-songwriter. It is an arresting, ambitious song-cycle that explores the generational arc of family, the stranglehold of addiction, and the fragile ties that bind us together as Americans. This is a record that understands that love and grief are two sides of the same coin. Jaimee Harris turned 30 during the pandemic. It’s a milestone that is a rite of passage even during normal times. But for this Texas-born singer-songwriter, it came in the midst of one of the strangest and most tumultuous periods in American history. When the world stopped during lockdown, Harris, like many others, found herself gazing back into the past, ruminating on the nature of her hometown and family origins, and reckoning with their imprint on her. The term ‘nostalgia’ derives from the Greek words nostos (return) and algos (pain), and if Harris’s Boomerang Town can be regarded as a nostalgic album, it is only nostalgic in the sense that the longing for home is a desire to return to the past and heal old wounds. For Harris, the album began gestating around 2016, a time of great loss for many in the Americana community, with the songwriter losing several musicians close to her. The shift in the nation’s political landscape had ushered in a new level of polarization that saw whole swaths of cultural life being demonized. For someone who grew up in a small town outside of Waco, Harris believed the values instilled in her by her parents were not entirely in line with how many on the left were viewing — and vilifying — Christians, citing them as responsible for the new change in leadership. As a person in recovery, Harris has had to re-evaluate her own connection to faith and find strength in a higher power (“Though he’s not necessarily a blue-eyed Jesus,” she laughs), though she certainly knows what it’s like to “be told how to vote” in a Southern church setting. It was from the intersection of these social, personal, and political currents the album was born. And while much of the material on Boomerang Town was inspired by personal experience, the songs on this collection are far from autobiographical xeroxed copies. More than anything, they come from a place of emotional truth. “My goal is to just write the best possible song I can write,” Harris says, “and I wanted to have ten songs that made sense together sonically.

Repress !

Sudi Wachspress returns to Tartelet Records with Dance Planet, a third LP of emotionally-charged house music to welcome us back to the dancefloor. The spirit of true house runs deep in the sound of Space Ghost. Oakland native Sudi Wachspress is intuitively plugged into the romantic, mystical energy of 4/4 club music as a unifying force of empowerment and liberation, carrying the torch from vital forebears like Larry Heard, Alton Miller, and Blaze.

His new album, Dance Planet, carries a greater responsibility to spread spiritual affirmations. As the global dancefloor community emerges from a mentally-taxing recess and confronts their social self like it’s the first day of school, Space Ghost’s message couldn’t be more supportive.

“Don’t be afraid to be yourself, don’t be afraid to let go,” he intones on “Be Yourself.” More than just a beat and a hook, his music is pointedly created to heal and energize. “I’m a big fan of old-school house vocals that have a positive message,” says Space Ghost, “tracks that can perhaps enhance your mood or strengthen your confidence in yourself.”

Wachspress has always represented a beacon of musical uplift, both on his previous Endless Light and Aquarium Nightclub LPs for Tartelet and on his swathes of self-released music and last year’s Free 2 B on Apron. Compared to most house-oriented artists, he places emphasis on the long-player format to create an encircling experience for the listener, smoothing out psychic wrinkles and massaging areas of tension for a fully holistic hit.

The relationship between Bryn Jones’ music as Muslimgauze and the track/abum titles he would provide (sometimes right on the tapes he would send in for release, but often determined later, sometimes even giving two different pieces months apart the same title, accidentally or not) has always been a little mysterious. Jones himself can no longer be asked, and as we continue to investigate the swathes of material he provided, you hit sources like the DAT or DATs that make up the contents of the new double LP »Turn On Arab American Radio«. Nine tracks, the first LP/four tracks titled »Turn On Arabic American Radio,« and the other LP/five tracks labelled only »Arabic American Radio.« None of them sound particularly radio-esque, although given the simultaneous vastness and ornate focus of Jones’ Muslimgauze work that gap between name and sound is far from atypical.

Instead here the de rigeur percussion loops that underpin this particular set of tracks, while occasionally clipping into the fierce distortion that Jones either loved to use or couldn’t get away from, steer away from both the more consistent application of that distortion as well as the Middle Eastern and Asian influences he often used. It’d be a stretch to call anything here basic boom-bap production but they come closer to it than a lot of Muslimgauze production. And while those loops are, as always prominent, they’re not actually the focus; settling into steady vamps as structures for Jones to pursue an extended and often more gentle exploration of the other sample sources he has here. There are stringed instruments, the sound of water, but most prominently or strikingly the human voice. Nothing is in English but tone and the occasional word ('familia', 'passport') still provide guides. There are ululations, snatches of melody; but most often speech, dialogue, often tense and harried sounding. Is this what Jones was thinking of or referring to with his Arabic American Radio?

As with so many other questions about Muslimgauze, we’ll never know the answer to that one. (Most pertinently in this case we might wonder who appears here, and what the context of these recordings is. But Jones never provided that with his submissions.) Here, even though those inexorable loops pound on, indefatigable, that emphasis on some of the people Jones chooses lends a measured gentleness to much of »Turn On Arabic American Radio«, at least within the context of his body of work. The last thing you hear at the end of the second LP is one last question from one of the many speakers on this peculiar Muslimgauze radio, echoed away into infinity. We may never have answers, but those questions continue to resonate.

The soundtrack to Stanley Kubrick’s FULL METAL JACKET is an even split of memorable needle drops from artists such as The Dixie Cups, Nancy Sinatra, and The Trashmen, and an intense, moody score by Abigail Mead (actually Kubrick’s daughter Vivian under her preferred composer credit). Mead’s work delivers huge, haunting swathes of metallic drones and atmosphere, giving way to punishing rhythmic drums that sound like explosions, helicopters, and warfare. It’s a remarkable piece of music that sounds years ahead of its time.

Some sort of low slung house tracks with a twist from the unpredictable and unparalleled brain that roams the dunes of the Hague. Responsible for Dickie Smabers & The Moerwijk crew, Nacho Patrol, Gladio and a swath of other mysterious and inscrutable aliases. This one comes straight from his private rave cave. Hermit in a Rave Cave is Legowelt's latest project and this is part 1.

Thrill Jockey Records is proud to present Into This Juvenile Apocalypse Our Golden Blood to Pour Let Us Never, the third collaborative album by Japanese free music provocateur Keiji Haino and expressionist metal trio SUMAC. Into This Juvenile Apocalypse finds the quartet navigating the push-and-pull of creative interplay with bolder strides and stronger chemistry. Recorded on May 21, 2019 at the Astoria Hotel on Vancouver BC"s notorious East Hastings Street as a one-off performance during a short North American tour for Haino, the six compositions comprising Into This Juvenile Apocalypse showcase a musical unit bouncing unfiltered ideas off of one another, mining a trove of textures and timbres from their armory to buoy and bolster these living and breathing pieces. Like so many albums documenting free music, the thrill here is in the tight rope walk, the wavering moments of uncertainty and the ecstatic moments of shared brilliance. Japan"s fearless multi-instrumentalist and cultural provocateur Keiji Haino has made a career out of his free-form musical improvisations and diverse collaborations. Whether deconstructing American blues, to a few rogue notes hanging across chasms of empty space in his solo endeavors, sparring with the nebulous fringes of psychedelia in Fushitsusha, or teaming up with musicians like Faust, Boris, Jim O"Rourke, Stephen O"Malley, John Zorn, and Peter Brötzmann for fleeting aural experiments. Haino"s work is never pre-planned or structured, but rather a completely spontaneous exploration of chemistry, texture, and dynamics. SUMAC"s tenure is much younger than Haino"s, though guitarist-vocalist Aaron Turner has covered a similarly large swath of musical territory across numerous projects and collaborations. From the sedated drones of recent projects with Daniel Menche and William Fowler Collins, to the modern compositions of Mamiffer and all the way back to the restless evolutions of post-metal stalwarts ISIS. With his cohorts Nick Yacyshyn (Baptists, Erosion) on drums and Brian Cook (Russian Circles) on bass, Turner has dissolved the rigid forms of heavy music, searching for a balance between disciplined precision and unhinged musical barbarism, crafting music that vacillates between meticulously detailed instrumentation and uninhibited forays into oblique abstraction.