Repressed !
This awesome 3rd compilation vinyl contains high energy tracks ! A great colab with Acid Ted & Jack Wax is the 1st track on this release. After this pounding acid trance techno track; System Rejects kicks in with this mindblowing acid techno trip !! Then on the flip a very special acid oldschool goa track from Ajna that brings you back to the 90's ....like we like on Flatlife Records the most !!
Two years after the premiere of his debut "Komorebi", Daniel Szlajnda returns with his second album "Order In Chaos", which will be released on November 8 by U Know Me Records. The starting point for "Order In Chaos" was the assumption that even the most complex system consists of simple elements. Even in chaos, order and repeatability can be encountered, and each complex phenomenon can be broken down into a series of smaller, easier to observe. This idea also translated into the way the album was composed. In "Order In Chaos", Szlajnda consciously rejects all the elements that can distract the listener, focusing on the search for beauty in an economical and ascetic sound and hypnotizing repetitiveness. The album was recorded entirely on a modular synthesizer designed around the Sputnik Modular Dual Oscillator, a construction based on Don Buchla's designs from the 1970s.
Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves.Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl's newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single "Not Hell, Not Heaven" outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. "It's about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim," explains vocalist Kat Moss. "It's trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain't working for me." The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on "Fantasy." "It's incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated," Moss says. "`Fantasy' is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard." The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, "Are We All Angels," asking questions like, "Is this all there is?" and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. "It's about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn't matter how `good' or `bad' you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do," explains Moss, noting that punctuation on "Are We All Angels" has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl's debut, 2021's How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record's sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called "Seeds to Sow," that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. "It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we're fulfilling that," says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023's widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next.Scowl's growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band's scope. "Will would say, `Everything you have here is correct, but it's in the wrong place,'" says Gilbert. Moss adds: "Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses." But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. "Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate," says guitarist Malachi Greene. "At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes."
Olive Green Vinyl[28,15 €]
Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.
Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.
Height/Dismay were the M Squared studio-as-instrument duo of Patrick Gibson and Dru Jones. A member of Systematics and Scattered Order, Gibson was an integral part of the M Squared label and studio, where he met Jones. With an unapologetic misuse of instruments and ample time, the two sonic explorers scraped guitar strings, manipulated clarinets, and contact mic’d woks to layer their echo chamber apparitions.
Collating three 1981 recordings, the then-shelved ‘Blood Pressure In The Sand’ joins ‘Dusk’, their con-tribution to archetypal cassette-zine Fast Forward. Also unreleased, ‘The Tinning Test’ rejects formal lyrics in favour of a deadpan reading from the Australian Standard for tinned copper wire. The outsid-ers of the outside, these mutual minds’ productions have long been overlooked as crucial pieces of the Australian DIY music puzzle.
Height/Dismay is pressed in an edition of 300 hand stamped white labels, wrapped in white ink print-ed coloured card.
Soft Machine is a surreal wander through the mystical sonic forest. A vision curated and designed by Chicago native Justin Aulis Long. A Cyclopian point of view while gazing through a wide lensed scope, which exists in the liminal spaces where light meets dark and angelic forces bath in the sludge and stardust of unfiltered eroticism.
Eye of the Minotaur - collage 001 is a collection of artists working in varying musical practices that are channeling the solitude of mutantness, strolling through the familiar yet unfamiliar halls of the uncanny, refusing ordinary structures of the mundane, grasping the cold humor of cynicism, basking in the dichotomy of cosmos and chaos, and invoking the energies of Eris and Eros.
Setting the ground is Ciarra Black, a Berlin based New Yorker who makes no apologies for her bare knuckled soundscapes. DuPont Street is a ritualistic unification of discordant entities that summons visions of Pazuzu (lord of the demons) and Inanna (goddess of love) fornicating beneath The Tree of Life. Razor edged synthesizers slice through the atmosphere with the precision of an avenging angel’s flaming sword, while a psychedelic drum code activates ritual movement of the body.
As the needle passes beyond the next threshold it is met by a towering totem, bristling with the illuminated light of the sonic astral plane. Erected from the foundational matter that birthed the Detroit electro punk sound, Eyes Up continues to add to the narrative that is drenched in deranged electronics intuitively mangled in a post punk tradition. Dystopian percussive rhythms generate an unorthodox domain where muffled utterances present an aural Rorschach test. Could this be the riddle of the Sphinx, or an ancient spectral being that possesses secret knowledge? Only its creator, Stallone the Reducer, holds the key.
Fixed at the axis of the journey, Perfect Headache Forever, a mystic operating within the DIY spaces of Chicago, levitates on a transcendental mass that is equally melancholic and optimistic. Her voice hosts a strength equal to a pantheon of titans. Armed with a magical electronic musical box, she weaves narratives that are prophetic. Itself Ecstatic is a voyage through a misty soundscape that begins at one point, but ends in a distant other, in accordance with a system of divination.
Gazing into the murky waters of the oracle’s cauldron, Circling Vultures, (a collaborative effort by Justin Aulis Long and Kenneth Zawacki) channel and evoke the spirits of Antonin Artaud and Geroges Bataille. The poet’s voice, engaged in an act of mutilation and self cannibalization, howls while projecting visions of sacred conspiracies, sensations of vertigo while peaking over the edge of the abyss, and the looming weight acquired from the solitude of the Minotaur alone, sitting silently at the center of the labyrinth. Accompanying the mystical bard’s verbal declaration is a triggered mechanized synth that roars with the vitality of Cold War era Wave music, which is then juxtaposed against applications of loose keyboard playing. The artist’s hand is revealed against the calculated actions of machines.
Bringing the document to its finale, Libby Del Barrio, a multi disciplinary artist based in San Antonio, performs a closing ritual in a manner that only she knows. Setting fire to the Elysium Fields while personified as Moze Pray, Del Barrio rejects plastic narratives that aim to pacify. No Tears, is an unapologetic account of life’s feedback loop around the Wheel of Fortune. Sacrificial actions through ceremonial performance reveals a gateway founded on truth and torment. Moze Pray’s ability to combine musical production, poetic vocalization and ritualistic body performance is charged by chaos and amalgamates into a product of pure expression that defies the rose colored filters aiming to conceal harsh realities.
