quête:symbol one

Debut collaborative album from Troth, the Nipaluna-based duo of Amelia Besseny and Cooper Bowman, and kindred spirit and legendary Mancunian free-form guitarist Jon Collin. A lavish dreamscape conjuring the dramatic beauty of uncharted mountains and streams, it documents both the crystilisation of ideas first shared during an Australian encounter in early 2023 and years of mutual appreciation.

Troth’s sonic universe, a constellation of drifting atmospherics, bedroom pop impulse and modern classical motifs, is deeply intimate and never rushed. Recent sides Forget The Curse and Idle Easel and live performances supporting the likes of Maxine Funke and Treasury of Puppies have seen Besseny’s soaring, celestial voice take centre stage, delicately adorned with Bowman’s synthesiser flourishes and homespun instrumentation. At their heart lies Bowman’s tireless collaborative instinct: his decade-long involvement in the Australian underground and his countless musical outfits (including contemporary trio Th Blisks, with Besseny and Yuta Matsumura).

Summer 2023 saw the duo host two shows for Collin in their former home of Mulubinba, regional New South Wales. Collin is perhaps best known for his playing, deconstructing and reconfiguring of the guitar and other stringed instruments, realised in solo works on his own Early Music and Winebox Press imprints, and collaborations on a trio of albums with Demdike Stare and live sessions with Sarah Hughes and Bill Nace. His unique style of playing, sometimes delicate, at other times frictional, refutes expectations of traditional instruments and fits perfectly within both Troth’s ethos and their lush sonic mise-en-scène.

The objects of devotion perhaps symbolise the group’s devotion towards each other during their music-making process, and the fruits from which they are borne. “I think, any music I have a hand in, is a dialogue with by the people I'm making it with. It's an ongoing conversation between people and sound”, reflects Bowman. The sacredness and ominousness of remote Tasmania is just as affecting, the interplay of Besseny’s haunting vocal washes, Bowman’s sparse instrumentation and Collin’s ritualistic strum evoking the eeriness that lurks beneath the seemingly limitless Australian landscape. “When I think about it, it sounds like being together at the bottom of the Earth. Watching, listening and playing together with no-one else in sight."

Francoise Hardy's Vogue years have marked the history of French and international music. Even today, the five years between 1962-67 remain an exceptional moment in her career, the one when she exploded in the eyes of a generation that was born during or just after the Second World War, the generation that would be part of the May 1968 Paris protests. Hardy exploded not only in France alongside her fellow 'Yeyes', but also internationally where she became the symbol of French elegance, talent and charm: the United States, Japan, the United Kingdom, Germany, Italy, Spain... no one could resist Francoise, and she recorded most of her hits in English, Italian and German. 'Tous les garcons et les filles', 'Mon amie la rose', 'L'amitie', 'Le temps de l'amour', etc. are songs that have crossed generations and can be heard in recent movies (Wes Anderson loves Francoise Hardy and has included her songs several times in his films), international television series ('The Walking Dead', 'Industry', 'Week-end family') and advertising spots (Dior 2022 campaign). Available on x24 trk, double Black LP Vinyl & single CD formats. Marketing activity.

Amorphic & Tensal join James Ruskin's Blueprint Records family with their "Distant Landscapes EP" this November, which closes out the label's 2024 catalogue.

Amorphic is the pseudonym of Scottish artist Vince Watson, aimed at exploring more raw and hypnotic signatures. Launched in 2022, Amorphic has featured on labels like Token, Symbolism and Modularz as well as Vince's self-formed labels Amorphic and Morph. With almost 30 years in the industry, Vince has released over 1000 tracks, which has allowed him to work and gig with some of the very best. He now teams up with Spanish artist Tensal for this new EP.

Tensal is the alias of Héctor Sandoval (who is also one half of Exium, Komatssu and Selección Natural), created togive space to his more cyclical and modern vision of Techno in which he combines different rhythms and textures. After a handful of works released on his own label, he has recorded for the likes of Mord, Modularz, Arcing Seas, Warm Up, Perc Trax, Cabrera, Polegroup (of which he is a founding member) and Soma, where he released his first LP in 2018.

Together they've drawn on their individual skills to deliver 4 deep and driving Techno cuts that perfectly fit James Ruskin's influential label.

"VOLUME 1" ist eine denkwürdige Einführung in die Welt von MRCY. Ihre Vision von Soul lässt sich von den Größen der Kindheit (SAM COOKE, MARVIN GAYE) bis hin zu Genre-verschmelzenden Modernisten wie KHRUANGBIN oder SAULT inspirieren - "it's like hearing a distant memory," sagt Barney, "but one that speaks to where you are now". Auf ihrem Debüt blickt der Sound von MRCY tiefer nach innen und weiter nach außen: Die Debüt-Single "Lorelei" war eine ätherische, jenseitige Geschichte über eine Liebe, die in einer Katastrophe enden sollte, während "Flowers In Mourning" Afrobeats und Northern Soul in einer ergreifenden Meditation über Familie und Verlust zusammenbrachte. Das Album wird von einer auffälligen, visuellen Ästhetik begleitet, die in Zusammenarbeit mit Harris Elliot entstand und KI, Adinkra-Symbolik und britische Ikonografie zu einem Look - und Sound - verbindet, der bereits unverkennbar MRCY ist. Auch wenn MRCY sich mit einer ausgereiften Vision präsentieren, haben sie auch hart daran arbeiten müssen. Barney, der inmitten der Schmelztiegel-Kultur von Huddersfield aufgewachsen ist, hat sich als einer der gefragtesten, eklektischsten jungen Produzenten Großbritanniens etabliert; von einem Ivor Novello Award für seine langjährige Zusammenarbeit mit Obongjayar bis zu Mercury-nominierten Künstlerinnen wie Joy Crookes und Olivia Dean. Der in Süd-London aufgewachsene Kojo verdiente sich seine Sporen in der Kirche und sang mit ebenso illustren einheimischen Künstlerinnen wie Cleo Sol und Little Simz. Nachdem sie sich während der Pandemie über Instagram kennengelernt hatten, trafen sich MRCY zwischen den Abriegelungen in Brixton, wodurch sich der Sound der Band - und ihre Verbundenheit - vertiefte. Und obwohl das soziale und politische Chaos unweigerlich in ihr kommendes Projekt einfließt, geht es bei MRCY auch um das Bedürfnis nach einer gemeinsamen Basis: universelle, aber höchst individuelle Erfahrungen mit Klasse, Gemeinschaft und der Qualitätsmusik, die gute Menschen schon immer zusammengebracht hat.

Das 2004 erschienene MM..FOOD von MF DOOM wird inzwischen als Hip-Hop Klassiker-Album voller einfallsreicher Produktion, brillanter Wortspiele und einzigartiger Themen gewürdigt. Gefeiert für seine nahtlose Mischung aus Humor, Witz und sozialem Kommentar, entführt das Album den Hörer in eine bizarre Welt voller Lebensmittel-Metaphern und zeichnet ein bitter-komödiantisches Porträt eines Lebens, das von Laster, Gewalt und Eifersucht verdorben ist. Ein brillantes und damals neuartiges Konzept, das DOOM viel Raum zur Erkundung der Themen des Albums gab. Im Verlauf von MM..FOOD bettet DOOM komplexe Ideen in scheinbar einfache Erzählungen ein. Der Album-Opener "Beef Rapp" ist eine vielschichtige Metapher, die den Hörer an die Gefahren erinnert, die mit der Verherrlichung von Konflikten verbunden sind, insbesondere im Rap. "Hoe Cakes" leiht sich seinen Namen von den süßen, mit heißem Wasser gefüllten Maismehlfladen, die er als Symbol benutzt, um über Genuss und Exzess zu reimen. Mit dem von Madlib produzierten "One Beer" setzt DOOM das Motiv fort, um Schichten von Tiefe über Eskapismus und Ego zu falten, während das populäre "Rapp Snitch Knishes" die Verkaufsdiskriminierung und widersprüchlichen Verhaltensweisen einiger Rapper kritisiert. Insgesamt ist MM..FOOD sowohl ein sozialer Kommentar als auch ein Stück Gesellschaftssatire, das MF DOOMs Fähigkeit unter Beweis stellt, ernste Themen mit seinem einzigartigen, verspielten lyrischen Stil zu verbinden. Zur Feier des 20-jährigen Jubiläums des Albums wurde MM..FOOD mit einem komplett neuen Artwork von Sam Rodriguez neu verpackt!

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

2024 Reissue

The second album of songs resulting from the collaboration between Teho Teardo and Blixa Bargeld was released in 2016, three years after the celebrated debut with "Still Smiling". Often the nature of collaborations is fleeting, usually not involving a sequel; in this case, however, we are faced with the evident settling of a bond, human and artistic, that is no longer occasional but has reinvented itself to explore other territories and will not stop there either. The album cover is inspired by the famous 1533 painting by Holbein the Younger, "The Ambassadors": a work celebrating an official visit, a meeting between two friends, the pride of their gazes still strong despite time, distance, despite everything. Teho and Blixa return with an album of new songs, sung in German, English and Italian. "Nerissimo" is the superlative of black in Italian and there is something rather black about the music on this album. Not in the sense of dark, an adjective often used to define certain sounds, but just as it happens with the colour black, which contains all other colours, so this music contains a multitude of possibilities."Nerissimo" is also the title of the track in English that opens the album and closes it, as if between two parentheses, in Italian. A temporal passage between languages that links Rome and Berlin, where the album was recorded, ever more intimately. A crossing of the last three years of work together for Teho and Blixa. This record is also a nocturnal story of apparitions, of colours that disappear from the world just by naming them, of aeroplane flights with the lights off in the cabin, of objects whose symbolism represents the passions and interests of the two artists (starting with the objects reproduced on the cover); a sort of tale through objects, continuous movements and the discovery of sounds, even random ones. Sounds intercepted in the space of these three years and which ended up on the disc as interferences that challenged the structure of some songs, resulting in their adaptation to the invasion of foreign sound bodies. "Nerissimo" does not only contain songs but also features experimental tracks, such as "Ulgæ", in which the lyrics explain, like a subtitle, the sounds that follow one another in a story.

Strange Power!, the fifth record from Durham, NC-based songwriter and poet Anne Malin Ringwalt, emerges from the darkest waters of the self into a world remade. Releasing in conjunction with her second book of poetry, What Floods (Inside the Castle, Oct. 2024), Strange Power! overflows with Ringwalt's teeming and sensuous personal symbolry: glowing lilacs and gentle queens, dolphins wild and girls who grew up brave _ T.S. Eliot sung by Cat Power, backed by Mount Eerie. She sings: "I rose up from water." Ringwalt writes and performs with the authority of a lifetime spent harnessing the alchemy of storytelling; her belief in the power of words to heal and transform is palpable in each achingly- delivered lyric. Made amidst profound inner and outer change, Strange Power! also sees Ringwalt taking up the role of self-producer for the first time, mirroring and supporting the record's Orphic quest by gathering contributions from a coterie of friends wielding an electric range of American instruments. Violins, vibraphones, drum machines, electric guitars dappled with spring reverb, wind-blown shells, and a host of other numinous sounds form an unfurling and shadowy world which was then carefully honed during the mixing process (shepherded by Michael Cormier-O'Leary and Lucas Knapp) _ settling the final record in an eerie meridian between spareness and verdancy. The result is a beguiling and darkly blooming realm: the sound of a personal cosmos being remade, piece by piece. Ringwalt is at the height of her spirit as both songwriter-poet and singer, her willowy voice by turns conjuring and keening as she reckons with her deep past and the stories told since. Opening track "The Pines" sets the stage for a record of truly life-long scope: "I was a child, now I hold her / I was asleep for many years." Some songs, like the gorgeous "North Carolina" and "The Saint," were written as early as 2013 but, Ringwalt says, "insisted upon being remembered" as the record took shape; in its final form, they serve as inciting moments of self-discovery before the journey to come. "The Visionary" recalls one of Ringwalt's earliest musical breakthroughs _ her re-rendering of an Emily Brontë poem into a song at age 15 _ and, she says, "`cites' the melody of that song in the context of this new one _ a holding of the past and present and every layer in between/beyond, in utter solitude _ a solitude that reflects certain aspects of abandon as a child and an adult..." This unusually lengthy time-scale lends Strange Power! a deeply moving sense of narrative fullness. Stretches of the record _ particularly the "Judgment Day" ? "River" ? "Lilac Bloom" trifecta that form the black heart of Side 1 _ may recall familiar wanderings of personal underworlds such as Mount Eerie's Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 or Neil Young's Ditch Trilogy. Yet this hollowed landscape is in turn exorcized by the a capella "I Know," in which Ringwalt sings "I won't be gutted by you / For giving and trying to heal / I won't be gutted, I am not a fool / I deserve a love that is new" before the song concludes with a piano passage that recalls hymnal music _ suggesting a faith in life itself to offer new beginnings. Side 2 features some of Ringwalt's most powerfully introspective writing to date, as the songwriter casts off myth after myth in her search for personal transformation. By the final song, "Stories," the energy that has been gathering all throughout the record breaks loose as Ringwalt reflects: "I wrote so many stories, not knowing what the end was." But at this stage in the journey, we know there is no such thing as an ending; if the healing process is never complete, the storyteller's strange power is what finally offers liberation.

William Tyler is a Nashville guitarist and composer. He spent years woodshedding and touring with Nashville groups like Lambchop and Silver Jews before breaking away to focus on his own version of instrumental guitar music. In the summer of 2022 he was fortunate to have an artist residency at Epicenter in Green River, Utah, a tiny high desert town three hours from anything, One of the other non-profit friends of Epicenter was The Tank is Rangely, Colorado. The Tank itself is a giant and tall disused water tower from the high days of train travel and used to store water to cool train engines and such. Empty for decades, it is now an internationally recognized destination for sound art and almost unparalleled echo/acoustics. William Tyler decided to book recording time there and chose to re-interpret all of the songs of hie 2019 album "Goes West" in a sparse yet cavernous solo acoustic setting: "Something about the frailty and space I wanted the songs to imply was lost in the over-production of the studio record, This felt like a reclamation of the songs and also a symbolic tribute to the stunning, haunted and vast possibilities of the American West, especially at the twilight of American Empire.’

Einmal im Jahr muss uns GOAT den Weg weisen - das selbstbetitelte neue Album im Oktober 2024! Der Ouroborus - also das Symbol der Schlange oder des Drachens, der seinen eigenen Schwanz frisst - erscheint den einen als Ausdruck der Brutalität der Natur. Für andere, die gnostisch veranlagt sind, symbolisiert er die Dualität des Göttlichen und des Irdischen im Menschen. Am häufigsten wird er jedoch einfach als Symbol für die endlosen Zyklen von Tod und Wiedergeburt verstanden, die das Leben auf diesem Planeten kennzeichnen. In der Welt von Goat, dem geheimnisvollen und immer wieder neu belebenden Kollektiv, das mit seinem neuesten Album ein weiteres Abenteuer jenseits dieser Ebene der Realität erlebt, ist dieses Bild von großer Bedeutung: Die Band, die bereits Alben mit den Titeln Requiem und Oh Death veröffentlicht hat, beweist mit ihrem gleichnamigen Album erneut, dass Transzendenz und Metamorphose ihre Leitmotive sind. Mit Goat beschwört die stets unberechenbare Band rhythmisch getriebene Rituale in einem unverwechselbaren, erhebenden und schillernden Stil herauf, der die Tanzfläche ebenso wie den Geist zu beflügeln vermag. "One More Death" und "Goatbrain` sind spektakuläre Vorboten, die einen hedonistischen Geist verkörpern, der von prägnantem Funk angetrieben wird und von einer gnadenlosen Fuzz/Wah-getränkten Gitarre besessen ist. An anderer Stelle ist die Liebe der Band zum Hip-Hop der Treibstoff für den epischen Albumabschluss ,Ourobourus", der ansteckenden Gesang mit atemloser Breakbeat-Action im Stil von Lalo Schifrin verbindet. Und das bedeutet auch, dass wir am Ende, wie das älteste allegorische Symbol der Alchemie, wieder dort sind, wo wir angefangen haben. Wie Brad Dourifs Figur Hazel Moates in dem Film Wiseblood von 1979 sagt: ,Wo du herkamst, ist nicht mehr da. wo du dachtest, dass du hingehst, war niemals. Und wo du bist, ist es nicht gut, es sei denn, du kannst davon wegkommen". In Goats ewigem Jetzt der Erneuerung und Offenbarung gab es nie ein wirksameres Mittel zur Flucht. Limitiertes, schwarzes Vinyl!

Caroline Says' haunting new album, The Lucky One, is a poignant exploration of how the ghosts of past relationships linger, sometimes holding more sway over our hearts and minds than our current connections. We revisit these ghosts through evocative landscapes of our memories - hometown bars, road trips, and late-night swims. Through a series of fractured and persistent memories these songs capture the bittersweet realization that the past, though imperfect, can sometimes be a more comforting and meaningful companion than the present. Opening track, "The Lucky One," confronts death's role in shaping our memories head-on, as it ponders the way death freezes a person in time, forcing us to confront the complexities of grief and its lasting impact on our relationship with the one we lost. Other tracks delve into the complexities of relationships that naturally grow apart as life takes us in different directions. For example, "Faded and Golden" reflects on the bittersweet nature of reunions with old friends, where the idealized memories of youth can clash with the realities of the present. Then, "Actors" takes this a step further, acknowledging the influence of perception and desire in friendships, and the idea that in many ways "all friendships are imaginary friendships," as it confronts the disappointment of inauthentic connections, and the facades we sometimes put on in relationships. "Roses" began when Caroline was looking through her grandma's collection of commemorative Kentucky Derby glasses, each one etched with the name of a winner. The song delves into the story of "Sunday Silence," the horse that won the year Caroline was born. Researching the horse's journey from near-Triple Crown glory to retirement in Japan sparked a metaphor - a pressured being (the horse) desperately trying to please but ultimately disappointing. The owners eventually selling the horse becomes a relatable symbol of unmet expectations, and the sting of falling short despite our best efforts. Album closer, "Something Good," revisits Caroline's Alabama childhood. Lost on a recent trip to Birmingham, unable to find the familiar path to a riverside hangout, the experience becomes a powerful metaphor; we can't always retrace the paths in our memories, but those memories, however unreliable, continue to shape us. In the end, The Lucky One celebrates this enduring power, acknowledging how past relationships and experiences, even those lost to the haze of time, continue to inform the stories we tell ourselves, and the way we navigate the present.

Coke Bottle CLear Vinyl. The breakout success of 2016's Puberty 2 saw Mitski hailed as the new vanguard of indie rock, the one to save the genre from the white dudes who've historically dominated it. But the often overlooked aspect of being a rising star is the sheer amount of work that goes into it. "I had been on the road for a long time, which is so isolating, and had to run my own business at the same time," Mitski explains, "a lot of this record was me not having any feelings, being completely spent, but then trying to rally myself and wake up and get back to Mitski. I was feeling really nihilistic and trying to make pop songs."We want our artists to be strong but we also expect them to be vulnerable. Rather than avoiding this dilemma, she addresses directly the power that comes from appearing impenetrable and loneliness that follows. "With a lot of the romantic infatuations I've had," she says, "when I look back, I wonder, Did I want them or did I want to be them? Did I love them or did I want to absorb whatever power they had? I decided I could just be my own cowboy figure that I so desire." In Be The Cowboy, delves into the loneliness of being a symbol and the loneliness of being someone, and how it can feel so much like being no one.

Longtime enthusiasts of ambient music have much to celebrate as Rafael Anton Irisarri's cherished out-of-print cassette, "Midnight Colours," returns in a meticulously remastered edition and makes its inaugural debut on vinyl. The significance of this album's announcement is accentuated by its historical resonance, coinciding with the same day in 1952 when the world bore witness to the first-ever test of the hydrogen bomb.

"Midnight Colours" is far more than a mere album; it's an exploration of the enigmatic relationship between humanity and time. Conceived as a sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock, which symbolizes the world's existential vulnerabilities, Irisarri's work beckons listeners to contemplate the gravity of our existence and the delicate balance that envelops it.

"I wanted to capture the essence of humanity's relationship with time, both the anxiety and the serene beauty that coexists within the shadows of the night," explains Irisarri. "The vinyl format adds a tactile dimension to the experience, inviting listeners to physically engage with the music."

Known for his contributions to the ambient and electronic music genres, Irisarri often explores themes of introspection, nostalgia, and the interplay between sound and emotion.

Recorded in 2017, when the Clock was at 2½ minutes-to-midnight (and at the time, the second-closest to midnight since the Clock's inception in 1947), "Midnight Colours" permeates with the melancholy of memories resurfacing as one approaches the end of life: the regrets, the closure, the uncertainties, the anxieties.

Originally released as a limited tape on the beloved Atlanta-based label Geographic North, "Midnight Colours" swiftly garnered praise and acclaim within the ambient music sphere. Now, with this newly remastered edition on his own Black Knoll imprint, fans, both longstanding and newfound, can rediscover the album's captivating beauty in unprecedented clarity and depth.

"I've wanted to release 'Midnight Colours' on vinyl since it first came out, and I'm thrilled to finally be able to. The remastering process, brilliantly done by Stephan Mathieu, has breathed new life into the work, and I'm eager for listeners to experience it in this format."

The reissue of "Midnight Colours" features band-new artwork and design by the renowned Mexican visual artist Daniel Castrejón. A frequent collaborator and friend of Irisarri, Castrejón's imagery impeccably complements the album's mood and themes, extending a compelling invitation for listeners to explore its aural world visually.

This landmark release serves as a testament not only to Irisarri's enduring impact on the ambient music genre but also as a long-awaited gift to those who have patiently anticipated the album's vinyl debut.

Carla Boregas is a Brazilian musician, composer and sound artist. By merging synthetic and acoustic instrumentation and techniques, Boregas builds up sonic scenarios driven by an invisible force, where the sensation of presence and discovery lies between density and delicacy. Her work spans composition, improvisation, performance, sound installation and radio art, and aims to transport the listener to different subjective perspectives of time and space, to invoke memories and to reflect about the nature-human relationship.

Carla Boregas writes: "Using a Tascam Portastudio 4-track cassette recorder, I invited three musicians to improvise alone with the sound recording of the sea that I did in Massaguaçu, the place where I used to live in Brasil. The recorder that I used had a defect in one of its tracks, therefore I could only invite two musicians – Vinicius Cajado (double bass) and Réka Csiszér (cello), plus the sea in another track. While listening to the tracks together, I felt a deep sense of absence ("ausência" in Portuguese). Perhaps due to their sonorous answers surrounded by the tape hiss? Because that's one of the symbolic meanings of the ocean? Maybe "saudades do mar, de estar ao seu outro lado"? Who knows – listening can be something very mysterious. Afterwards I played with and interweaved them all: the sonorous sea, Vinicius Cajado, Réka Csiszér and the absence - "Absência Tape" is the final result." – Carla Boregas, Berlin, 8 August 2024.

Death and the Maiden’s Uneven Ground draws back the velvet curtain on the trio’s crepuscular dreamworld with nine songs of their distinctive shadowy slow-motion fusion of underground electronic dance music and post-punk guitars washed through with psychic unease. The trio’s name is taken from that of a nineteenth century engraving by Edvard Munch: an artwork steeped in mythology, exploring the dark boundaries between love and death, strength and frailty, beauty and decay. Their three albums to date each reinforce the symbolism of the name, and Uneven Ground’s title could apply as much to their own journey in the years since Wisteria, their previous album, as to the times in which we live. Bassist and vocalist Lucinda King is the bedrock, guide and storyteller. Guitarist Hope Robertson weaves swooping, soaring motifs and sometimes deconstructed layers of noise to build analogue atmosphere for these alternate worlds. Danny Brady’s beats mix old-school drum machines with electronic tones and distortion, while his synth arrangements blend elements of psy-trance and acid house with more amniotic ambient and industrial textures. While Uneven Ground may be the most overtly “pop”-sounding album in their catalogue, it also ratchets up the ominous atmosphere, noise and experimentation. Once again King’s evocative lyrics appear as cryptic stories, built from events, memories, dreams, moments, warnings, regrets; where questions raised are left unanswered, and possibilities remain open.

Isik Kural returns with Moon in Gemini, a luminous scrapbook of slow-flowing narratives couched in intuitive and symbolic storytelling. Bending a playful take on environmental music to the folk song form, Isik's vocals coo atop pastoral field notes, airy chamber instrumentation and archival recordings culled from a curious musical life. A tender pastiche coalesces across the suite of Moon in Gemini's fourteen pieces, and Isik invites the listener to daydream as-deep-as-possible. "The songs on Moon in Gemini don't mind being slower or taking their time to reach the listener," says Isik, who wanted the title to speak to the album's dreamy, liminal nature. "I enjoyed how the phrase could be used to describe an object, a time or a place simultaneously," he explains. Similarly and subsequently, these songs contain a multiplicity of sonic artifacts, moments and spaces that span Isik's rich musical career to date. With the bulk of the album realized between Amasya, Turkey and Isik's current home in Glasgow, in both domestic and studio recording environments, additional tracks unearthed from his personal recording archive lend their lush patina. The record emerged as a fertile space to reimagine a handful of previously unreleased songs and unfinished ideas spanning the past fifteen years of his life and work, including streetside sounds documented while growing up in Turkey and recordings made while studying music engineering in Miami, Helsinki and Glasgow. Looking to the more recent past, Isik found himself wanting to build upon some of the methodologies and textures explored on his 2022 album in february, seeking a newly intimate, vocal-forward sound. He points to the track "film festival" from that album as a door through which to enter Moon in Gemini, where sample-based arrangements are presented in the context of asymmetrical "build ups and progressions" and ambience and vocals intertwine. Inspired in part by listening to iconic, if not sometimes misunderstood, singers such as Nina Simone, Aldous Harding and Ed Droste of Grizzly Bear, Isik aimed to carve out a new space for his voice on Moon in Gemini, experimenting with novel recording and mixing techniques. Captured at his aunt's farmhouse in Amasya during an extended three week recording session, we find Isik's vocal high in the mix, front-and-center and on newly expressive terms. As a songwriter, Isik is an intuitive and playful lyricist who allows his deep love of literature to flow through his off-kilter texts. Here, echoes of Silvina Ocampo's poem "Dialogues of the Silence" reverberate from the margins of "Most Beautiful Imaginary Dialogues". Likewise, Elliott Smith and Virgina Astley shapeshift through "Behind the Flowerpots," some lines of which were based on misheard lyrics from Smith's "Stickman" and Astley's "Some Small Hope." Attuned to the magic of happy coincidences, other unexpected "themes and connections between tracks flourished" during the recording process, resulting in some songs being more "thematically and lyrically connected to each other compared to previous records." The duos "Prelude" and "Interlude" as well as "Grown One Iota" and "After a Rain" explore connected stories, while "Almost a Ghost" and "Behind the Flowerpots" serendipitously emerged out of a conversation with Stephanie "Spefy" Roxanne Ward, whose balmy vocals heard highlighting in february return and call out to Isik's in sweet dialogue. Plumbing these new potentials of structure and songwriting, Isik also developed a taste for an expanded sonic palette, one enriched by the lulling undertones of live woodwinds and strings. The resulting collaborations with flutist Tenzin Stephen, harpist Kirstin McCarlie and clarinet player Giulia Tamborino envelop the record in an altogether "dreamier sound," swaying pastel and awash in lunar light. Moon in Gemini, brimming with natural imagery and lullaby-inflected tones, tunes into states of being where the wonder filled sound of everyday is heard and felt, perfectly imperfect in its poetry; where the invisible steps forward; where dauntless ghosts wait around every corner and play enriches the soul; where bird song fills sun-soaked afternoons and carries us on its wings into each enchanted evening. Isik Kural's Moon in Gemini will be released on vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on September 6, 2024. On behalf of Isik and RVNG, a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Mor Çaty Women's Shelter Foundation, whose social work at their solidarity centers and shelters supports women building lives unhindered by gender-based discrimination and male violence under free and equal conditions.

Ever wondered what music would sound like if it was ripped from the space directly preceding sleep? The tracks within this album are your gateway to discovery. These recordings, which were laid down especially for the USA radio stations WFMU and WGXC, will melt your speakers and your mind. Released on the ever excellent Feeding Tube Records (USA) & Cardinal Fuzz (UK). BHAJAN BHOY (aka Ajay Saggar) symbolises boundless creative freedom in all the music he has produced to date. This LP is no exception to that rule….in fact, this album showcases an even wider spectrum of sounds and ideas than could ever be imagined. From heavy lysergic guitar excursions, to dub inflected guitar pedal pop, to nu-age minimalism, to electronic experimentalism….all the terms and descriptions in the world don’t do justice to the originality that lies within. When USA radio station WFMU asked Ajay to contribute tracks to a session for the show “Feelings” (co-hosted by Michele and Creamo Coyl), he turned in 5 tracks that received tremendous feedback from around the world on the station’s live chatline when broadcast. In addition, a session for WGXC further showcased the songwriting talent of Ajay. The ensuing 3 week tour of the USA cemented BHAJAN BHOY’s status as one of the most innovative musicians around. This LP marks another giant leap forward in BHAJAN BHOY’s musical development. He’s brimming with ideas and the imagination runs wild. This music is for the listeners who want to follow a path of discovery and be mesmerised and blown away by what they hear. Be sure to be one of the listening party. Presented in a high gloss outer sleeve with 2 sided insert.

2024 REPRESS

Fourth corner. Physically, it's where four states in the U.S. come together at one singular point. Symbolically, it's where the four great rivers in China come together as one. Or, it could be the cycle of life during the four seasons of the year. For Trixie Whitley, it's a metaphor for trying to find balance and belonging from the songs that make up her scintillating debut album, Fourth Corner.

Whitley burst into public consciousness in 2011 as the lead singer of Black Dub, super-producer Daniel Lanois' (U2, Bob Dylan) project, blowing people away with a voice and presence beyond her now-25 years.

And it's that voice: an emotional, blues-drenched instrument that ranges from a lilting slap to a knock-you-backwards uppercut. On Fourth Corner, Whitley explores the range of human emotion in another set of four: utter love, total rage, unadulterated happiness, and crippling loneliness. "It's those elements of life I keep coming back to," she says. "Both as a person and musically as well."

Recorded in New York with producer/keyboardist Thomas Bartlett (aka Doveman, who's also worked with Glen Hansard, Antony and the Johnsons, Grizzly Bear and the National) engineer Pat Dillett (David Byrne, St. Vincent, Mary J. Blige), and string arrangements by Rob Moose (Antony, Bon Iver), aching songs like "Need Your Love" have Whitley working from a spare beginning that explodes into a blossom dripping with pleading vocals and delicate piano. On tracks like the sassy "Irene" and the sinister "Hotel No Name," Whitley lays down a snarling guitar line on top of scuzzy beats while her voice veers from defiant to remorseful.

It's a tantalizing mix of sounds that can come only from someone who says: "I'm from everywhere but have never felt like I belong." Whitley lived a nomadic life: born in Belgium, she split her time growing up there and in New York but also frequently visiting family in France, Texas, and Mexico. Her mother came from an artistic European gypsy family, filled with musicians, painters, writers, and sculptures, while her father, renowned singer-songwriter Chris Whitley, thrust her into the world of music as a toddler when she joined him onstage in Germany at age three.

After a few years of touring and recording experience with some of the most inspiring artists around, Trixie is ready to presenther anticipated first solo full length.

"I'm psyched and petrified," says Whitley in her archetypal wide-eyed wonderment mixed with a fierce determination. "As a songwriter, I want to go to places people don't expect and with that is complete freedom of expression." Perhaps that place is another version of a fourth corner: something spiritual perhaps, certainly emotional, but most definitely real.