Suche:synth sense

Originally released back in 1999 via Mindfood Records, Tiny Elvis ‘Desire’ EP gets a much-needed reissue on Cosmocities, topped off by two incredible remixes from Bushwacka! and Max in the World.

A smoother-than-smooth introduction into Tiny Elvis’ deep and progressive headspace, ‘Desire’ blazes with a modern soul and timeless fire at heart. While there’s no denying the time and era emanating from the grooves, the record prefigures a lot of the mind-expanding house music that’s come to fill the shelves and crates of vinyl shops two decades on. A distinctive blend of pumped-up, 303-brined jazz and abstract-leaning vocal loops ushering us into a pulsating heart of LSD-fuelled visions and climax-seeking energies.

Adding his invariably genius spin to ‘Desire’, UK house maestro Bushwacka! tweaks the original’s trademark wonkiness into that of a floor focused weapon, geared up for deep boogie action down the basement but lacking none of that prominently silken, loungey magnetism either.

On the flip side, ‘Howze The Music’ cuts a path of squelchy, strings-driven hypnosis, beautifully combining the liquid-like essence of acid with a neo-classical sense of evolutive emotion, injecting it with a tang of trancey tribalism for good measure.

New York's Max in the World gives a further dreamy, cinematic twist to proceedings, taking us on a lush ride across flickering landscapes flush with honey-dipped synth stabs, a-propos sampling and blissful strings stirring all kind of emotional flows with unrelenting verve.

Eaux proudly announces the second full length LP from Rrose, Please Touch, released on vinyl, CD, and digital download. The LP follows 2019's Hymn to Moisture in ways that are both subtle and striking: Please Touch further hones the artist's tensile sound while exploring new aesthetic vistas and basking in an undeniably erotic sense of play. Moving with undulating power, the album's nine tracks drift across tempos from a weightless 0 bpm to a crawling 100 to a lunging 140 and back, with a rich palette of sculpted noise and cross-talking microtones.

Rrose's compositional process, rooted in their studies with West Coast avant garde trailblazers at Mills College, centers on "seed" sounds being fed through elaborate webs of interrelated audio processing. The result is a world where changes in any one element have downstream implications for some or all the others. It's a rich interdependence that lets the tracks breathe, grow and mutate with uncanny organicism. Please Touch addresses in equal measure the perceptual and the corporeal: these are sounds that sink into the body, exhibiting a tactility that pushes, pulls, bends and yields with fearsome vibrancy.

The album splits its time between radical techno iterations and pieces which pare back the percussion, letting the synth textures uncurl in their own time and space. The quivering drone and rolling sub-bass of "Joy of the Worm'' set the tone for the record, while "Rib Cage," Spore" and "Spines " swing with stepping rhythmic underpinnings. Building with finely calibrated tension, they use their few elements to startling, snarling effect. "Pleasure Vessels" is a rare moment of becalmed introspection in Rrose's oeuvre, hinting at a melodic ambiance that is practically unseen in previous works. It glows with a soft, dawn-like light before dissolving into a tidal fizz. "The Illuminating Glass'' brings the tempo down to a languorous chug, nodding its way through a field of glistening chirps and leaden gasps. "Feeding Time," "Disappear" and album closer "Turning Blue'' meanwhile nod to the cerebral psychedelia of Rrose's forebears, with mesmeric, looping textures and long, magisterial tones not dissimilar to the spectral works of James Tenney (whose work Rrose regularly performs) and the deep listening pieces of Pauline Oliveros.

The title of the album refers playfully to the tactile quality of the music while hinting at a forbidden sensuality that is only permitted within the confines of this microcosm. The phrase is also another nod to Marcel Duchamp, who gave this title to a 1947 exhibition of Surrealist art. Across the nine tracks, Rrose follows the lead of the sound(s) rather than trying to impose on the flow of the sonic material. Each move changes the parameters of a track's evolution. Thus, a non-hierarchical, symbiotic relationship forms between the so-called "music-maker" and the music itself. Please Touch acts as a collection of limbs, organs, parasites, and growths which both devour each other and keep each other alive.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Symphony No. 107 –The Bard, a previously unheard archival recording of the legendary improvising ensemble MEV (Musica Elettronica Viva), captured in concert at Bard College, New York in 2012. Formed by a group of American expat composers in Rome in 1966, the MEV ensemble played an important role in the development of free improvisation, bridging the live electronics tradition begun by Cage and Tudor and the high-energy squall of free jazz. Early recordings like Spacecraft or The Sound Pool unleash volleys of metal and glass amplified with contact microphones, howling winds, primitive synthesizer bleep and raucous audience participation, the intensity of which puts much later ‘noise’ to shame. In later decades, the ensemble would go through many iterations, often including legendary free players like Steve Lacy and George Lewis. In its final years, MEV settled into the core trio of founding members heard here: Alvin Curran, Frederic Rzewski, and Richard Teitelbaum, using piano, electronics, and small instruments.

Curran, Rzewski, and Teitelbaum were life-long friends blessed, as Curran says, with ‘incompatible personalities’: major figures in the post-Cagean experimental tradition, they explored countless divergent and even contradictory paths as composers and performers, from agitprop songs to brainwave-controlled synthesis. MEV is the sound of these three personalities coming together, their contributions radically individual yet attaining a state of ‘fundamental unity’ that Rzewski, in a text written in the collective’s earliest years, defined as the ‘final goal of improvisation’. Of course, listeners familiar with aspect of the trio’s individual works might hazard some guesses about who is doing what: the crisp piano figures are probably Rzewski’s, the cut-up hip-hop samples most likely Curran’s, the sliding, squelching synth possibly Teitelbaum’s. But often these identities are dissolved in a constantly shifting hall of mirrors, the listener unable to tell which of these pianos is live and which is a sample of a past virtuoso, or whether a horn blast derives from ethnographic documentation or Curran cutting loose on Shofar. The two side-long sets here occupy a similar terrain of constantly shifting texture and instrumentation, unexpected interruptions, and moments of sudden beauty. The first set is sparser, at times almost ominous, as a bell repeatedly sounds across wheezing harmonica, seasick orchestral textures, and creaking wood, making room for episodes of yodelling and delicate prepared piano before exploding into a storm of buzzing synth and piano fragments. The second set is more frenetic, moving rapidly across centuries and continents: cars crash into post-serial piano pointillism, wailing voices collide with chopped and screwed hip-hop samples, Hollywood strings are buried under layers of electronic gurgles. The performance slows in its final moments, making way for a sampled voice repeating the phrase ‘protest and the good of the world’, reminding us that MEV’s idea of freedom was always more than musical. Symphony No. 107 –The Bard is a beautifully recorded example of the endlessly multi-layered later MEV sound, accompanied by new liner notes by Alvin Curran (now the only surviving member of the group) and a selection of previously unseen photographs from across the many decades of the group’s activity. Arriving in an elegant sleeve bearing a beautiful photograph by Francis Zhou of the Olin Hall at Bard College where the concert was recorded, this is an essential document from a major group in the history of experimental music. As Rzewski wrote, this music is ‘like life, unpredictable, sometimes making sense, mostly not’.

The Search for God is a wake-up call for a troubled world that’s still worth saving, animated by a belief in the power of small connections to add up to big changes. At 10 songs delivered in a brief 15 minutes, Jimmy Whispers’ long-awaited sophomore album feels present in a way that feels brand new for the cult auteur. Like many of us, Jimmy has been affected by the pressure of the past few years. After embracing sobriety in 2019, and now as a filmmaker sharing the stories of lesser known Los Angeles community members, he’s brought his dreaming down to earth, while turning its direction even further out.

Recorded with his longtime friend Ziyad Asrar of the band Whitney (and re-recorded after a hard drive incident destroyed the original files), The Search for God was created in the wake of Jimmy’s COVID isolation, and returns to some teen influences that are out of step with the chill/lo-fi LA indie rock scene he’s found himself lumped in with. Created mostly with two vintage synths, a single Roland CR5000 drum machine, and a busted karaoke machine, it channels Midwestern emo, the Beach Boys’ Smile, subtle nods at hyper-pop production, and forgotten jewel-box era college radio of the early aughts into a pure pop sound that transcends easy categorization.

The album’s standout single—and its statement of purpose—is “Hellscape,” which packs more into a minute and 40 seconds than you’d think possible: multiple immediately-unforgettable hooks, kaleidoscopic keyboards, and a bracing reminder that even the most transcendent moments are rooted in a world full of suffering. “This is a fucking hellscape,” Jimmy sings. “This is real life / this is happening.”

That may sound like punk nihilism, but The Search for God is anything but. Every lyrical acknowledgment of how fucked things are right now comes with a promise that we can still make positive changes. Jimmy calls it “God”; you might call it Love or Peace or A Place In the Universe That Makes Some Kind of Sense.

Will The Search for God deliver whatever that is to you? Of course not. At its heart, it’s still just a really good pop album. But maybe that’s enough. For a minute or two at a time, Jimmy’s music cracks open a space where the divine can enter our lives. The utopia we’ve all been dreaming of is already here if we’re just willing to build it. Jimmy Whispers is there, ready to add his voice, whenever we want to reach out.

When I first heard Natalie Rose LeBrecht's time-suspending, air-ionizing music, more than twenty years ago, I thought "this kid is on to something." She's been proving that thought right ever since. Her recordings, from the teenage 4-track tapes she made as Greenpot Bluepot to the recent albums under her own name, have been fascinating dispatches from her progressively deeper dives into her gorgeous, weird, wildly idiomatic aesthetic. Holy Prana Open Game is a jewel of intensely personal cosmic music, created through a remarkable process of openness, craftiness, addition and subtraction. It belongs to a tradition of albums that document a rich, meditative sound as it rises up to join the world outside its creators' minds: Alice Coltrane's Universal Consciousness, Harmonia's Musik von Harmonia, Philip Glass's North Star, Talk Talk's Laughing Stock.

"Meditative" is specifically the idea here: Holy Prana Open Game had its origins in the fourteen days LeBrecht spent silently meditating in her home's small music room in the summer of 2019. "I came out of that bursting with the will to create new music," she says, and she created it sound-first. LeBrecht taught herself to program an analog synthesizer's timbres from scratch, and built a new set of glacial, heady compositions out of them, eventually singing to accompany the keyboard parts she was playing.

Then she closed her eyes at her computer, "let my mind be clear and open, imagined light pouring down through me, and began auto-writing to my memory of the music playing through my mind. Most of the lyrics emerged this way, and then I used my conscious mind to refine them a bit at the end." One other song came along with LeBrecht's new pieces, a cover that seems wildly unlikely from the outside and makes total sense in its context: it's a version of Atoms for Peace's "Amok" (which had been created by improvisation and editing, too), mutated into her own idiolect.

In early March of 2020, LeBrecht recorded Holy Prana Open Game's analog synth parts with Martin Bisi at his studio in Brooklyn--and then the world shut down. As you may have gathered, LeBrecht is very much a spiritual, head-in-the-stars type. She is also extremely hardcore, and if making the art she wants to make means doing things the hard way, she cracks her knuckles and gets down to it. Within weeks, she had taught herself how to record, mix and edit with a digital audio workstation. She recorded her vocal parts (sometimes multi-tracked into a radiant choir) at home, assembled a rough mix of the album, and sent it off to her collaborators.

LeBrecht spent some years studying with and assisting La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela at their legendary sound-and-light installation, the Dream House. As with their work, her singular, precisely focused vision is shored up by its openness to artistic voices beyond her own. For Holy Prana Open Game, she worked with the Australian guitarist Mick Turner and drummer Jim White (both of Dirty Three, the Tren Brothers and innumerable other projects), as well as woodwind player David Lackner, a longtime presence on her recordings.

Turner and White have been playing together in one context or another since 1985; in the summer of 2020, they were only blocks from each other in Melbourne, Australia, whose strict lockdown meant they couldn't meet up to record together. So both of them, as well as Lackner, recorded their improvisational additions to LeBrecht's rough mixes individually, often without hearing each other's contributions. "I had asked them to play as much as they could on each track," she says, "and told them that I would edit it all down in post, so I had a lot of source material of theirs to work with."

LeBrecht arranged and edited the recordings from all four of their homes to flow together like breath across the duration of her suite. Prana, one of the album's central conceits, is in fact the Sanskrit word for breath, with the connotation of the breath of life. Like LeBrecht's music, prana flows at its own pace, and demands stillness to take in fully--but it's also subtly playful and surprising, a force that can be as light as air or as immersive as the atmosphere itself.

Naarm alchemists Sleep D's revelatory new synthetic 'Electronic Arts' is ready for circulation.

Having released 4 EPs of mind-altering club tackle since 2019's 'Rebel Force', the duo overcome second album syndrome, boiling down their chaos with a more developed sense of songwriting. Never banging one drum, 'Electronic Arts' mirrors the anything goes mania of their DJ sets, tactfully shifting through different sounds and styles. Tempos intensify and decelerate, at times pushing the threshold to 150 bpm from docile canine dreamscapes to full tilt Space Invaders in AR mind games.

Largely built on road tested material from their live performances, the album is a tangible Butter Sessions gathering, busting out the gate with Martian rave initiation Planet Waves, Outdoor System's polyrhythmic beatdown and the Orb-like hero dose affirmations of Sunrise In The Crater (I Exist). While 'Electronic Arts' is otherwise a self-dependent effort, Punch Drunk is brewed ever more potent by the hypnagogic vocals and lucid trumpet cycles of former futsal team member YL Hooi. Their unified energy incidentally manifests a profound matrix of ambient techno, motorik, Don Cherry and Everything But the Girl.

Also touching on apocalyptic doof and minimal, the album is not exclusively peak time with Maryos Syawish and Corey Kikos' specialty curveballs also playing their part. From Village To Empire finds the duo rooting down in Syawish's heritage with a tapestry of purposefully deployed Iraqi and Syrian ethnographic samples and field recordings, dubbed within range of Muslimgauze and On-U Sound. As minimal techno finale Textile trails off into footsteps wandering back to base camp with a satisfied exhale, one wonders where Sleep D's existential pathfinding could possibly take us next?

Marco Vella and Anth Wendt step up to International Feel with a five-track EP of Balearic-tinged bliss for their first collaborative release as Other Mother.

There’s definitely something in the air round the Adelaide Hills. Longtime friends Marco (aka Body Corp) and Anth (aka Oisima) finally got together in Anth’s studio after the pandemic and the result is Numero Uno an EP of laidback synth guitar and drum machine workouts mixing 303 riffs and sunsets for a supremely low-slung vibe.

After cruising around the Hills in the day the pair worked on tracks by night and their carefree days soaking up the sun shines through. Opening track About Time sets a steady pace with its lush delayed guitars slow-rising acid melody and hefty sub perfect for Sunday pub garden appreciation. A side closer Zwang! drops the tempo but brings the percussion into focus for another masterclass in tension and release with interwoven 303s and dub feedback.

Side B keeps the beach-side atmos flowing with guitar licks working around sumptuous synth chords for Anyway Music - a song that’s the ultimate soundtrack understated parts fitting together seamlessly in service to the feeling and belying the technique required. Lost In The Forest makes use of expansive ambient pads synth riffs and shakers to evoke a sense of wonder sunlight coming through the trees.

The EP concludes with Where’s The Fifty a dreamy piece of drum synth phrases and 303 interplay that perfectly characterizes Marco and Anth’s collaboration - two musicians and producers playing to serve the song. They write elements that combine for a harmonious whole greater than the sum of its parts. This is the underlying feel of Other Mother and Numero Uno - we’re all in this together - and by working collaboratively a brighter future might just be around the corner.

In the five years since Creep Show’s acclaimed Mr Dynamite album was released it’s fair to say that we’ve all been through a fair bit. Sitting here, in 2023, things don’t seem to be getting any better. There’s the cost of living crisis and political meltdowns; we're in deep water with global warming and to top it all there’s a war on our doorstep.

Back in 2018 everything seemed less complicated. Sure, there was stuff to get riled about, but we knew nothing about what was to come. Mr Dynamite was a fairground ride into the dark corners of a world that was on the brink of being blitzed in a blender. It was a record teetering on the edge. Five years down the line you’d expect the follow-up, Yawning Abyss, would double-down and bring the white-knuckled, teeth-gritted fury of the last five years to the boil. And yet….

A quick recap? No problem. Wrangler + John Grant = Creep Show. And Creep Show? “A band of musical misfits who have found a voice or two”, says Wrangler’s Ben “Benge” Edwards, whose Bond villain studio on the edge of a moorland is Creep Show Grand Central as well as home to an analogue synth arsenal that could sink ships.

Wrangler have known each other for a while. Tunng’s electronics wizard Phil Winter and Cabaret Voltaire’s trailblazing, pioneering frontman Stephen Mallinder go way back, while Phil and Benge crossed paths in the 21st century when they seemed to be increasingly in the same venues at the same times. Meanwhile, Mal had been living in Australia since the mid-90s and when, in 2007, he returned to the UK his old pal Phil suggested he meet Benge and the three of them immediately began working together.

Wrangler collectively bumped into Grant at their soundcheck for Sheffield’s Sensoria Festival in 2014 where they were playing with Carter Tutti. A friendship blossomed and when they were invited to perform together for Rough Trade’s 40th anniversary show at London’s Barbican in 2016, well, they jumped at the chance... and Creep Show was born.

Let’s talk about the new album... What is the ‘Yawning Abyss’? You might well ask. According to Mal, it’s “a cosmic event horizon that I can see from my attic window when stand on a chair”. Yeah. Thanks.

“On this album”, offers Benge, feet firmly on the floor, “Wrangler wrangled some vintage synths, mostly Roland, Moog, and the ‘Crystal Machine’ - then John Grant joined in the fun at Memetune Studios where lots of musical experiments were carried out. Then Mal and John ran off to Iceland with the master tapes and recorded a load of madcap vocals. Back at Memetune, me and Phil were left to try and make sense of it all. Which wasn’t hard because what they did in Iceland was totally magnificent.”

Which kind of brings us back to where we began. You’d imagine ‘Yawning Abyss’ would be blowing steam out of its furious ears. Mr Dynamite but kicking a wasps nest. Repeatedly. And yet…

Opener ‘The Bellows’ comes on like a modular ‘Radio Ga Ga’, the singalong ‘Moneyback’ (“You want your money back? / I didn’t think so”) sounds like Godley & Creme’s ‘Snack Attack’ meets Prince Charles And The City Beat Band (“Pennies, pounds, dollar bills, signed agreements, death wills”). ‘Yahtzee!’ is an unhinged electro breakdance party in four minutes and nine seconds.

Where Mr Dynamite was menace, a mélange of mangled voices, with Grant and Mallinder being heavily treated, pitched up or down, rendering their contributions largely indistinguishable, Yawning Abyss takes a more direct approach. You hesitate to say feelgood, but there’s a skip in the step here for sure.

The title track plays John Grant’s vocal straight. Completely. It’s good, so very good. Like ‘Axel F’ covered by Vangelis. The delicious shimmering synths of ‘Bungalow’ also plays those Grant pipes with a straight bat. ‘Matinee’ delves into darker, very funky territory. With Mal upfront it comes on like ‘The Crackdown’. Choice lyric: “You are starting to breakdown / And it’s so fun for me to see / You should have thought of that / You should have come prepared / You can see what’s happening and you look a little scared”.

So, you know, not all feelgood. But it does feel good. It’s probably best to draw your own conclusions... This is Creep Show after all.

Stimela were a popular and successful South African Afro-fusion outfit led by guitarist, vocalist, songwriter, producer and arranger Ray Phiri. The band was formed under the name ‘The Cannibals’ during the 1970s when Phiri got together with drummer Isaac Mtshali, keyboard player Thabo Lloyd Lelosa and bass player Jabu Sibumbe. They initially started out as instrumentalists, but later evolved to Afro-fusion when they joined forces with vocalist Jacob “Mparanyana” Radebe in 1975. The story of ‘The Cannibals’ ends when Radebe died in 1978 but the ‘Stimela’ story was only just beginning.

In 1979, after a life-changing experience in Mozambique (where they were stranded for three months) the band members had to sell all their belongings to take a train home. This trip was a watershed moment as it was here where they conceived the new name for the band: The Zulu word for “locomotive-train” STIMELA.



Stimela would soon become little short of an institution in their home country of South Africa. With soulful tunes and gripping lyrics, the band has recorded platinum-winning albums such as Fire, Passion and Ecstasy, Shadows, Fear and Pain & Look Listen and Decide. In addition to recording their own material, the group supplied instrumental accompaniment on albums by a lengthy list of legendary artists. Stimela would go on to gain global fame after being featured on Paul Simon’s iconic 1986 ‘Graceland’ album and the mega tour that followed.



Ray Phiri would enter into many successful collaborations with major acts and artists such as Harari, Joan Baez, Willie Nelson and Manu Dibango. In 2017 he was diagnosed with lung cancer and died at the age of 70. Phiri has received many awards in recognition for his contribution in the music industry, one of these is the Order of Ikhamanga awarded to him by the South African president. This was to honor his sterling contribution to the South African music industry and the successful use of arts as an instrument of social transformation.



Stimela is the tale of a South African band who have battled their way through dark days to take their rightful place in the forefront of the South African apartheid-era music invasion. One of their most memorable tracks “Whispers in the Deep” was even restricted from being broadcasted by the old South African Broadcasting Corporation.



On the album we are presenting you today (Fire, Passion and Ecstasy from 1984) the unique sounds of Ray Phiri’s Stimela are fully showcased. Expect infectious hypnotic build-up grooves, cinematic lowdown jazz-funk, Afro-soul, delightful reggae, gospel influences and funky synth-boogie sounds…all with a touch of early eighties new wave and hints of Island disco mixed with sensual bubblegum pop. It comes as no surprise that the album has now become a sought-after item due to its addictive and original-sounding nature, a must-have for any self-respecting record digger!



These recordings completely encapsulate Stimela’s fusion style. They managed to craft a modern South African sound that continues to influence SA musicians to this day. Never in a rush, yet always with a sense of purpose and direction – like the steam train after which they took their name.

Tidal Waves Music now proudly presents the first reissue of this fantastic Afro-fusion classic since 1990 (originally released in 1984 on Gallo Records) & this is also the first time the album is getting a release outside of the African continent. This rare record (original copies tend to go for large amounts on the secondary market) is now finally back available as a limited 180g vinyl edition (limited to 500 copies) complete with the original artwork. Also included is a double-sided insert containing rare pictures of the band.

Audio Soul Project is back with their latest vinyl-only EP, Simurgh. With a title inspired by the mythical Persian bird, these four tracks fuse elements of house, R&B, dub, and drum & bass to create an ecstatic and hypnotic experience.

The EP kicks off with "Deliver Me," a dreamy house track with warm filtered chords and bouncing synth bass. R&B female vocal ad libs pepper the groove and the refrain "Deliver Me" adds a sense of yearning. The percussion, including morphing 4x4 and breakbeat drums, piano and synth stabs, nod to the cerebral Detroit and Chicago house compositions of the mid 90s.

"Azizam Dub" takes a more stripped-down approach with a subsonic bass line bump and Juno 106 stabs. Frantic percussion and deftly cut vocal samples accent the ebbs and flows of the arrangement, making for a dynamic and engaging dance.

The B-side of the record starts with "Internal Vybrations," a bass-heavy drum & bass track that winds and jumps with multiple layers of deep, fluttering bass and ambient pads and strings. Percussion layers like hi-hats, shakers, and maracas lift and relax the rhythm in parallel to the rest of the composition, making for a hypnotic and trance-inducing vibe.

The B2 track on the EP, "Celebration Dub," is a bass-heavy swinging house track with ecstatic diva "Whooo" samples that punctuate the ups and downs of the groove's energy. Classic reggae and dub-influenced vocal samples and heavy tape delay on certain key instruments add to the joyful and uplifting vibe of the track. The keyboard

and string section can transport a dancer to other realms of consciousness if they let themselves go to the groove.

Simurgh is a masterful fusion of various genres that showcases Audio Soul Project's production prowess and ability to create an entrancing sonic journey.

TL;DR: Audio Soul Project's Simurgh EP features 4 tracks of dub-infused house music. Deliver Me has dreamy chords and female R&B adlibs, Azizam Dub is stripped down with subsonic bass and vocal samples, Internal Vybrations is a bass-heavy drum & bass track, and Celebration Dub is a swinging house track with reggae and dub vocal samples.

Timo Kaukolampi, frontman for Finnish electronic rock group K-X-P and tireless sonic wanderer, is releasing his second solo album, this time on Optimo Music. Exquisitely rendered, shadowy, curiously claustrophobic and even occasionally paranoid, Inside The Sphere is an album wholly deserving of its name.

A sense of paranoia is one of the threads through this glittering, winking electronic maze. Kaukolampi says “I came up with this metaphysical concept of the “sphere”. When you are manipulated you are ‘Inside The Sphere’. It’s like this dome of ‘undue influence’ that you don’t know exists around you. It’s a bit like the inside of a cult.”

Indeed, it’s amazing the effects achieved with a few sparse electronic textures, the odd smattering of studio trickery, and two or three well-placed synthesizer parts. Though the result might sound ostensibly simplistic, Inside The Sphere is an album of reduction rather than addition. The rhythmic and textural scaffolding is based around what’s not there, rather than what is. Take ‘VCS3’. At first listen, it seems forged from a few synth lines and a simple percussion part – so far, so simple. But listen closer, enter the sphere, look behind the mask – notice the slightly detuned drones, the chattering percussive textures, that distant swell of bass, the way the central fugue shifts and mutates somehow statically, like a barber’s pole.

Might we be listening to an album within an album, a more complex song cycle hiding within the folds of an ambient electronic album? This ties in with another of Kaukolampi’s thematic frameworks – that of the mask. He references Oscar Wilde’s quotation that “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”

Inside The Sphere is not a one-note album. For every moment where a clammy ambient space enters, a buttery analogue bassline is there to fill it. This clash seems to be the album’s engine room, its power supply.

Timo references devotional and choir music as an influence on this album. The paranoia and foreboding is tempered by these headier aspects. Kaukolampi mentions “empty and hollow spaces” in relation to several of the songs. Perhaps this is the very space behind the mask, where outward disguise merges with inner reality. Perhaps inside the sphere is not always such a bad place to be.

Manuel Sahagun lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina and has a long history in the music industry. He is known for his unique sound signature which have landed him releases on great labels such as Freerange, True Romance, Minor Notes, Lazy Days and more. And this summer he tryst with Fortunea Records, bringing along his new 3-tracker ‚A Daily Noise‘.
The record starts off with ‚Dreams‘. Don’t expect with this title a fluffy, peaceful melancholic tale. This track pushes through the door with warm subs, galloping hi-hats, xylophones and an irresistible crunchy bassline that’ll get stuck in your head for hours and hours. An absolute belter!

The EPs title-track goes on in similar manner. This time built around an eerie pad that lurks from behind and comes more and more forward in the course of time. A sign for danger? Not at all. But an optimistic relief will come along when the climax hits the dancefloor.

Finally we have ‚Hostages‘ on B2. A deep house track which has a beautiful sense of gloom and curiosity to it. Manuel gives more drama to the track by adding abstract digital glitch noises and haunting synths. A substantial treat for the ears.

‚A Daily Noise‘ comes out on the 9th of June 2023. The vinyl is limited to 300 copies. There will be no repress!

Legendary New York band M'lumbo distil experiences from their pre-pandemic shamanic travels into their stunning new album The Summer Of Endless Levitation. The eight-track vinyl LP is an avant-garde take on folk music informed by painter and sculptor Jean Hans Arp's 'Biomorphic' works and it serves as a sonic renewal of self.
The cult M'lumbo collective has been a legendary and groundbreaking act since first forming in the mid-80s. They cross genre boundaries as they draw on jazz, world, electronic, rock and experimental music that escapes the commercial world and take you into another realm entirely. There is no limit to their sound; each member brings their own cultural background to the mix, making the band all the more unique.

As the coronavirus pandemic struck, three members of the band Rob Ray Flatow, Paul-Alexandre Meurens and Brian O'Neill under-took a regimen of shamanic traveling in New York City. The experiences led them to spontaneously compose and perform a suite of pieces, informed and inspired by Jean Hans Arp's works but also by the feelings of isolation and indefinite exile yet to come in their urban environment.

Compared to the works they have done as part of the larger M'lumbo band, this album is a more modest and naive affair that is "a vehicle for the renewal of feeling using only a few instruments - acoustic and electric guitar, keyboard, flute, small percussion, kalimba and clarinet - and locating a sense of both the deep sadness and uplifting powers of reverie."

'There Are No Words' kicks off with heavenly chords and organic percussion that recalls the jungle jazz of Don Cherry, then 'Shoreline' is a five-minute dub with percolating rhythms and new age melodies before the soul-soothing acoustic guitar of 'The Afternoon Levitation' blisses you out on a sunny day. The perfectly entitled 'Swoon' is another gloriously uplifting piece of musical spirituality that fuses the electronic and synthetic with the ancient and ritualistic. There is more jungle jazz, big-band horn work and cosmic synth modulations of 'Open The Heavens' while 'Quanta' is a shuffling, jumbled mix of radiant chords, wigged-out electronic lines and celestial charm. 'Planetfall' goes from free-form jazz to double-time techno and back to cathartic ambient. The final trio of tracks conjures up everything from the transcendental jazz of Alice Coltrane to the cinematic downtempo of Calm.

Wirski’s debut on MISBHV Recordings offers a nuanced narrative operating in its own genre of Eastern European rough-edged club melancholy.

MISBHV004 opens with Inside The Dark Echo – a claustrophobic, stifling, relentless, sensual dance with desire. Darkroom complexity with heavy surface tension built on an EBM undercurrent flirt with subtle psychedelia and traces of acid that slowly firm up their multi-layered grip through its running time of six and a half minutes.

Warszawa paints a stripped-back, tantalizing picture. Opening with a brutalist, militant drum programming and surprisingly spacious, warm bassline, its rigid rhythm, tightened up by a repetitive, cold breath mantra eventually opens up to bright, shimmering synth flickers evoking olibanum – the sacred scent of altar candles. Warszawa is looking at the multilayered melody of its landscape – from eerie Soc-realist blockhouses, through neon-lit, seedy strip clubs of the 90s to opulent sacral architecture.

Warm Waters Of Eternity subtly weave a cinematic, Carpenteresque soundscape with a sense of overpowering, ecstatic innocent euphoria that invokes a dream of an early 1990s rave deep in the dark woods of Poland.

Mattias Petersson debuts on the Swiss label Hallow Ground with »Triangular Progressions,« a suite in nine parts written entirely in the SuperCollider environment using additive synthesis. The starting point for the evocative piece is a magic number triangle that Petersson invented during his early composition studies and which has been an obsession of the artist for over twenty years, previously forming the foundation of many other of his works. By exploring the harmonic progressions found hiding within the triangle, »Triangular Progressions« at once emits a sense of introspective calm that fosters deep listening and evokes a whole spectrum of emotions, mediating between the abstract and the visceral.

The Stockholm-based Petersson, also known under the moniker Codespira1 and for his long-term collaboration with violinist George Kentros as There Are No More Four Seasons, has been active as a composer of computer music as well as an artist in the realms of live coding and modular synthesis for over two decades. Originally trained as a classical pianist, he also holds a diploma in electro-acoustic composition from the Royal College of Music in Stockholm, where he currently works as an associate professor. Besides his activities as a musician and teacher, Petersson is pursuing a PhD in composition at the Luleå University of Technology. Researching modular systems comprising both human and non-human modules, he is part of the GEMM))) Gesture Embodiment and Machines in Music cluster.

»Triangular Progressions« can be considered a perfect synthesis of Petersson’s academic interests and aesthetic ideas, combining a mathematical approach with artistic rigour. The magic number triangle highlights the beauty of symmetrical properties. By exploring its idiosyncrasies, the composer manages to translate them into engaging sounds. The lush melodies and harmonies of the music at times call to mind the intimate organ and drone works by label mates Kali Malone and Maria W Horn while also maintaining a unique signature sound. The addition of pure sinusoidal waves enables a deep listening exploration of the counterpoint between melodic and harmonic rhythms, chord structures and spectral harmonies that Petersson extrapolates from those magic numbers.

Kundan Lal is a highly understated artist. Little is known about his background, though some refer to him as Kunsaf Halil, his personal life remains largely a mystery.

Gathering a cult following amongst people like Den Sorte Skole or DJ Marcelle with his previous releases, he is now set to sail new shores. There is a sense of wanderlust as he opens his box of field recordings, collected on his many travels. From the buzzing streets of Alexandria, early sunday markets in Tafraoute or a crackling bonfire down by the banks of the river Ganges. Each track takes you places.

Kundan's second album is a captivating blend of dubby beats, collages, and exotic instrumentation. Drawing from classic tools like the Roland 808, SC7 and the famous Space Echo, Kundan has created a unique and minimalistic sound that is sure to captivate listeners. At once nostalgic and experimental, "Power of Ra" is a must-listen for both electronic music purists and fans of adventurous soundscapes.

Compelled to work from home on his computer during lockdown, Kundan dusted his pawnshop e-piano, downloaded some orchestral soundkits and started to digitize almost forgotten field recordings. The "Power of Ra“ came to him.

“Illgrimage” is a good example of his approach. Combining atmospheric soundscapes with swirling strings, trombones and pianos. Echoes of birds and children playing in the streets. A small town filled with life and a theremin leading the way while you hear the faint yet powerful words of Greta Thunberg saying: "Imagine...“

“Raqaqa,” a powerful orchestral journey with a hip-hop edge. Tinkling chimes add a groovy vibe, while lush layers of wind instruments weave a masterful soundscape. It’s the slow-burning intensity of this track that pulls you in.

"Nasi Chip" is a signature song that exemplifies Kundan Lal’s musical prowess. An engaging beat coupled with chopped up vocals, 8-bit synth melodies and an arpeggiated piano provide an energetic atmosphere that is both cunning and unique.

”Cen" lures you into the egyptian realm. A Harmonium slithers serpent like around a pounding beat.Horns gently swaying to the rhythm of the desert.

It is hard to put your finger on his style or genre. You can feel Kundan Lal‘s DIY spirit in his production, carving his own ethnic genre. For enthusiasts of Roberto Musci or Muslimgauze, this avant-garde album is one for your collection. Keep your senses open and let the Power of Ra pass you to another world.

Brussels-based producer Sagat’s highly anticipated debut album ‘Silver Lining’ lands on Vlek Records. Sagat takes us on a deep dive into a dense sonic universe: It’s bass music viewed from multiple vantage points, an explorative zoom onto contemporary dance music’s broad ranging cadences, paradoxically viewed from a distance. Silver lining bathes in cluttering rhythms that hover over corroded thumping grooves. Poly chrome synths emerge dramatically, interlocking with oddly timed techno syncopations. Yet all tracks are held together by firm, dubbed out beat repetitions and slabs of sub bass, not without a melodic sense of drama. Sagat’s disintegrated sound-design stands in between musical dichotomies, at once spaced-out, disorienting and emotive, but also explorative, colourful and full of tension. Moving, yet statuesquely standing idle. Silver Lining is an album longing for the dancefloor, but also about disconnection from it: A highly personal presentation of this producers’ singular take on bass oriented club music. From our standing point we love to see how Sagat’s music keeps evolving, toying with contemporary club music’s specific tropes, unbound by its normativeness. Silver lining is an album rich in contrast that works for personal listening experience as well as for the adventurous DJ with one foot firmly on the dancefloor, the other somewhere way out there.

Like a winding system of trails and paths cutting through a digital forest-scape, M. Sage's Paradise Crick is shaped by time. Full of wonder and charm, designed patiently and from a rich, curious mulch of synthesized and acoustic sound, the versatile American artist and magic realist's new suite of music is an imaginary destination and a pastoral fantasy that envisions the natural and fabricated worlds as one. Matthew Sage is a musician, intermedia artist, recording engineer and producer, publisher, teacher, partner, and parent. Assembling a sprawling and idiosyncratic catalog of experimental studio music between Colorado and Chicago since the early 2010s, recent highlights include The Wind of Things (Geographic North, 2021), an ensemble-recorded expression of bow-splashed nostalgia, and the four seasonal albums of Fuubutsushi, the improvisatory ambient jazz quartet he formed with friends from afar in 2020. Sage renders projects with nuanced velocity and a completist sensibility _ when it's finished, it's done _ which is what makes Paradise Crick, his debut for RVNG Intl., a compelling outlier. Sage first staked his tent in Crick's conceptual campground five years ago from his home studio in Chicago (he's since returned to Colorado, home to the mountains and prairies often personified in his work). He had just read Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America, a kaleidoscopic reflection of pastoral America's shifting identity by way of magical fishing sojourns. Inspired by that feeling, of getting lost but finding oneself in through the outdoors, he amassed over seventy demos documenting a fictional soundtrack for camping. Pull up to this park, and the sign might read, "Welcome to Paradise Crick. Fire Danger Is Low." The sequence, pruned down to thirteen tracks, courses the dewy mornings, afternoon hikes, and firelit nights of a weekend expedition. While Sage is not a filmmaker, he views the method of making this album as a similar form of world-building via structure, narrative, formal elements, and editorial refinement. Contrasted with his collaborative craft, here he is a sole auteur reclined in total autonomy, able to improvise scenes and implement special effects at will. A parallel precedent for such unchecked imagination in the M. Sage canon is A Singular Continent, his 2014 album that tilted its compass to a faraway land. Where Continent built its world layering samples as composition, Paradise Crick deploys a balance of accessible song structures with experimental instrumentation and sound design. Speckled with harmonica, autoharp, chimes, penny whistle, voice, hand percussion, and other mysteries, Crick's texture is treated as a sensorial adventure; the swamps gurgle, the lakes glisten, and the valleys breathe in robust HD. The rhythms are loose and buoyant, bursting with a few `kick and snare' moments shaped by Sage's lifelong love for drumming and headphone prone electronic music. Crick bumps more than most anything he's done before; crackling static pulses and lush vibrations reveal an intrinsic groove, a hidden beat map. In the landscapes of Paradise Crick, science and magic co-exist, 5k boulders and midi frogs share the frame with real-life memories of Midwest camping trips and the desire to feel extra human in a digitized space. Sage strived for "nature in the holodeck" but couldn't help leaving fingerprints in the simulation, and it's these traces of spirit and character that give Paradise Crick its strange allure. The album's bubbling sense of play, melody, and timbre takes cues from left-field electronic lineage; synth pioneers like Tomita and Raymond Scott up through the more expressive pop tendencies of Woo, Stereolab and the Cocteau Twins, and into contemporary composers like Sam Prekop. The album's vocabulary is uncomplicated; the gestures are sweet and inviting, intended to lull the listener. As much as Sage continues to be an experimentalist by nature in his work, with Paradise Crick, he spins a narrative. Not necessarily a concept album, but rather an invitation to take off for a weekend. That's the modus operandi down here in the Crick, we stretch out. M. Sage's Paradise Crick will be released May 26, 2023 in LP, CD, and digital editions. A portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Earthjustice, the premier nonprofit public interest environmental law organization.

Up and next on the releases are Decka & Roseen with "Keynote", introducing their first ever collaborative musical project.

With "Message From The Error System" we dive into an abyss of icy blue vibrations. Just like the alternate rising and falling of the tide, so does this track expand and breathe through a cyclical recurrence of the groove... Cycles and repetition. A cinematic, abrasive polyrhythm will drown all your senses as the
frequencies increase and increase. And so does the tension. Until... all of a sudden.. The frequency is lost... no more life signals... You feel alone in the cold. You are scared. But slowly... Hope grabs your hand from the water... takes you on the shore and slowly dries your tired and wet body.

The storm has passed. Clearing our heads from this apocalyptic sonic journey, B1 jumps in with a distracting and high energy looped cut. A classic, dance-floor oriented percussive and versatile track. Once again, repetition marks a fundamental element of the KEY family.

Last but not least comes B2 "Captivate"- which is a sort of synthesis between the dreamy A1 and the minimalistic composition of B1. A soft and mellow synth line is seduced by playful high hats into a redundant, cyclical game of sounds.

Specimen Records continue their exploration into the deeper reaches of electro with an EP from Berlin based Richard Easel, featuring remixes from close collaborators Datawave and Federico Leocata. The EP comprises of 3 distinct styles in one release, Easel with intricate sublimation and experimental modular sounds of the Buchala. Datawave’s remix of Exterreri, with his trademark spatial depth charged electro and Federico Leocata with his unique funky-minimal approach, which renders his darkly mysterious sound unlike Metaphysix underpinning a sound suited to Specimen.

Richard Easel is the electro project of Berlin-based DJ and producer and Italian born Riccardo Sbardella. He derives his sense of style out of the various IDM and Hip Hop projects he has created throughout his production journey. Richard Easel is an artistic endeavour that serves as an outlet for his own interpretation of Electro. The word Easel comes from Buchla Music Easel, as a tribute to his passion for modular synthesisers, and especially for West Coast Synthesis.