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Dutch multi-instrumentalist Felbm returns with the conceptual album "cycli infini" : a 38-minute composition of metamorphosing tape loops, musical patterns and instrumental sketches. Further exploring the concept is the vinyl release which features the track spread over both sides and cut to the end of each locked groove - creating an essentially never-ending piece that challenges the idea of the traditional listening process. The idea came to fruition by way of a lifelong interest and growing awareness of the cyclical nature of the world around him - be it through observing nature, or the mathematical and mind-bending works of Dutch artist MC Escher, or minimalist composers such as Erik Satie, Laraaji and Melaine Dalibert.

"The openness of Laraaji"s and Satie"s music have also been an influence to create a certain softness and feeling of comfort, as I like this piece to be a place you want to revisit", says Felbm, real name Eelco Topper. While Topper"s previous releases on Soundway Records comprised series of short, individual sketches, on cycli infini the tapestry is sewn seamlessly together using a step-like progression through the circle of fifths, which as the name suggests, brings the listener back to the musical key and soundscape at which they started. Should the full track be on repeat, it begins anew without being noticed. The piece began life with a layer of drone loops using tapes and delay pedals, over which acoustic instruments such as flute, saxophone and bass trumpet would playfully but gently interpret a melody - toying with jazz, ambient, fourth world and percussive sounds. As the music evolves through the key progression, organic elements such as birdsong and wind chimes ground the piece in nature. Says Topper: "the never-ending metamorphosis of matter has always fascinated me, the idea that nothing ever really disappears and everything has already been here... just in different shapes."

Angel Attack delivers his debut album Divine Practicalities on his label, House of Reptile. The Boston and London-based artist blends several sound palettes, sharing his most poignant body of work to date. The album includes two remixes by Univac and Blind Delon, respectively.

The title track acts as a prelude to the album. A broken-beat,
experimental number, it dips into cinematic soundscapes and warbling percussion, which Angel Attack describes as an “introduction to summarise the emotions we are about to experience on the album.” Tightening Tension follows suit. It’s a mutation of broken techno with electro flavours over a malicious Moog bassline, featuring the vocals of French producer IV Horsemen, whose lyrics conjure a smokey, bonechilling atmosphere between skittery drums. Angel Attack dives into a metal-edged mood on Ankles, stitching distorted riffs between broken beats.

The energy is visceral. Come To Me is straight-up Japanese Horror-inspired electro, combining eerie textures with thudding kickdrums and a gnarly scream — a freaky trip at just over five minutes. Franco-Spanish author, singer, DJ and musician Pedro Peñas Robles, aka HIV+, features on Oblivion War. A sludgy, slow-burning soundscape ensues with a deluge of downtempo, hip-hop and EBM textures, complemented by HIV+’s gravelly voice. Whipping up the pace, Wrists blurs the lines between sci-fi, electro and goth. A stinging melody snakes between staccato claps and ghostly pads — lethal energy of the highest order.

Forgotten is the postlude-type track of the album, and this is where Angel Attack’s interdisciplinary approach comes to life. It’s the most piercing tune of the release, complete with a guitar melody, stripped-back drums and pagan throat chants provided by Angel Attack. An introspective offering, staying with the listener long after the record stops spinning.

Black Truffle is pleased to welcome free jazz legend Joe McPhee back to the fold with Oblique Strategies, a wild trio recorded in Antwerp in 2018 in the company of Mette Rasmussen’s fire-breathing alto saxophone and Dennis Tyfus’s post-Fluxus antics on tape, voice, and percussion. Rasmussen and Tyfus have previously recorded together as Bazuinschal, and some similar strategies are on display here: mysterious metallic scrapes, extended tones in which voice and sax become indistinguishable, comic explosions of varispeed tape. With McPhee on board, however, proceedings are more sumptuous, with the two horns moving fluidly from expeditions into the extremes of their instruments’ registers to pointillistic note-splatter and Ayler-esque folk melodies; we even get to bask in some of the slow-motion free blues that McPhee has now been playing for half a century. McPhee is heard primarily on tenor, Rasmussen mainly on alto, but with Rasmussen doubling on sundry objects, and the whole trio contributing vocals, certainty about who is doing what becomes nigh impossible.

The recording and production add to this hazy unclarity. Where much contemporary improvised music aims at dryly clinical hi-fi, the lively reverberant space of Oblique Strategies calls to mind the less-than-pristine sonics of classic free jazz artefacts like John Tchicai’s Afrodisiaca or McPhee’s own Underground Railroad. A further dimension of oblique unpredictability is added by subtle changes in the sense of space: at times merely a reverb tail glimpsed between phrases, at other points the whole mix seems to be momentarily swallowed up in slap-back, blurring the lines between acoustic instruments and the decayed fidelity of Tyfus’ tape playback. Spread across four pieces ranging from four to nineteen minutes in length, Oblique Strategies moves with anarchic swagger from explosions of clattering cymbals and bellowing horns to near-silent episodes of mysterious rumble and clunk. ‘Death or Dinner?’ opens the record with a lovely duet of climbing melodic patterns shared between the two saxophones, played with a buzzing oboe-like tone. A long, wavering note sung by Tyfus cues the first of countless changes of direction, eventually leading to a crescendo of watery splutters and duelling saxes. At points Tyfus’ keening resemble the signature moves of his friend and collaborator, Ghédelia Tazartès; at others, his tape-sped huffs and puffs possess a rawness reminiscent of Henri Chopin or Gil Wolman. The dialogue between wailing saxophones and vocal cries, punctuated by percussive thuds and crashes, can at times feel less like a musical performance and more like the calls of some mysterious forest creatures, possessing a primordial energy that might remind some listeners of the outdoor antics of Brötzmann and Bennink’s Schwarzwaldfahrt.

Oblique Strategies can also be delicate at times, as on the beautiful third piece, ‘Destilled Edible’, dominated by a slow, microtonal melody played with a breathy tone resembling a shakuhachi. The closing side-long ‘Light My Fire’ ranges across classic improv call and response, skittering trumpet blurts, inept cymbal clatter, mock-operatic vocals, and crude tape manoeuvres. Momentarily pausing at the ten-minute mark for an interlude of ghostly room sound and crackling texture, its closing moments unfurl a glorious dual saxophone finale, the almost epic tone subtly undermined by Tyfus quietly tapping out swing rhythms. Arriving in a striking sleeve adorned with Tyfus’ drawings, Oblique Strategies is an invigoratingly free-spirited blast of improvisation.
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Questions will inevitably have to be asked here as to how / why Hooj have shamelessly broken the informal UN backed agreement to NOT REMIX / RE RELEASE C*F* D*L M*R, EVER AGAIN. But after the Hooj Catalogue owners cajoled the old A +R team into a Hooj Electronic Orchestra album in 2021, the then up and coming Borai + Denham Audio were enlisted for remixes, and fast forward a couple of years, the Bristol duo are smashing it in 2023, and vinyl does indeed beckon.

And with some justification it has to be said, as the Bristol duo took chunks of the original Wim Mertens melody and somehow still managed to drag it into new terrain, introducing rough breaks and hardcore sensibilities into proceedings, for the first time in the track's 30 + years journey.

On the B - side, another star turn from the early 90's get's the BDA treatment, as Transformer 2's Fruit of Love get's a more polished/ musical approach on the Audio Redux mix ( though with no compromise on bottom end / beats dynamics) , and Borai contributes a rolling, percussive 4/4 dub.

Hurry has grafted the best qualities of ‘90s bubblegum power pop—the pitch-perfect songwriting, the pop-rock sheen, the borderline saccharine vocal melodies—onto something far more raw and emotionally resonant. Don’t Look Back is striking in its tenderness and candor—approximately half of the lyrics on the record concern the deterioration of an 11- year relationship Scottoline was in, with the other half being a celebration of new love. The first words Scottoline sings, in opening track “Didn’t Have to Try,” is essentially a statement of theme: “And we’re back at the beginning / Never thought I’d see a face like that again / It attacks when we’re not ready / And I won’t play it safe this time.” This is pop music about actual feelings which means it’s automatically better than most pop music. It is challenging and addictive.

There is not a single moment on Don’t Look Back that isn’t completely drenched in melody and emotion. “Parallel Haunting” evokes the tuneful ache of golden age Evan Dando; “Little Brain” sounds like golden age Evan Dando and golden age Noel Gallagher. Don’t Look Back is, in a word, bittersweet, with melodies that feel like a jackhammer on your brain’s pleasure center and lyrics that feel like getting slapped in the heart.

Julian Cannonball Adderley's only Blue Note album, Somethin' Else, would likely forever be famous in music lore if just for the presence of Miles Davis. The iconic composer/trumpeter steps into the role of sideman on the 1958 set, one of just a handful of times he'd make such a move after the calendar passed the mid-1950s. Yet evaluating Somethin' Else strictly on Davis' involvement misses the big picture. Plain and simple, Adderley's jubilant work remains a jazz landmark due to the chemistry of its Hall of Fame personnel, enthusiasm of its participants, and sophistication of its arrangements – not to mention the reference-grade production and inclusion of the definitive renditions of two all-time jazz standards.

Limited to 6,000 numbered copies, pressed on dead-quiet MoFi SuperVinyl at RTI, and mastered from the original master tapes, Mobile Fidelity's ultra-hi-fi UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP collector's edition pays tribute to the record's merit and includes the bonus track "Allison's Uncle." Offering reference-calibre sonics, this spectacular collector's version provides a clear, transparent, ultra-dynamic, and up-close view of a cornerstone effort that witnesses Adderley and Davis sharing horn duty alone for the only time in their fabled careers – an arrangement that occurred as a result of Adderley having joined Davis' majestic sextet a year prior.

The premium packaging and beautiful presentation of the UD1S Somethin' Else pressing befit its extremely select status. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendour of the recording. No expense has been spared. Aurally and visually, this UD1S reissue exists as a curatorial artefact meant to be preserved, touched, and examined. It is made for discerning listeners that prize sound quality and production, and who desire to fully immerse themselves in the art – and everything involved with the album, from the iconic photos to the gorgeous finishes.

The vibrant potency reveals itself openly on an analogue set that provides full-range reproduction of an ensemble that also includes pianist Hank Jones, bassist Sam Jones, and drummer Art Blakey. Each and every snare hit, downbeat, and cymbal splash registered by the latter take on realistic proportions, blooming and decaying as they would right in front of you on a stage. Jones' foundational bass lines register with uncommon depth and palpability, the litheness of the strings and fullness of the instrument epitomizing the definition of rhythm. Stellar, too, are the surefooted 88s. Sublime in scale, tonality, and attack, with the delineation such you can practically separate the white and black keys in your mind. As for that liquid interplay between Adderley and Davis? Breathtakingly lifelike in timbre, naturalism, purity, and presence. This collector's version takes you there – there being Rudy Van Gelder's legendary New Jersey studio in March 1958 to witness it all unfold, again and again.

For reasons that extend far beyond the outstanding playing and flawless repertoire, Somethin' Else is without question a record you'll always want to watch and hear come together. As veteran critic Bob Blumenthal observed writing about the album four decades after its release, "The instant rapport achieved by the quintet is thus the product of much shared and common history, though the tensile strength that they create throughout created a totally unique feeling that can be attributed to the sensitive musicianship of all concerned, including the supposedly hard bopping leader and drummer." Such inimitable feeling, or emotion, courses throughout every passage, and no where more obviously than on "Autumn Leaves" and "Love for Sale."

Without question, the discreet interpretations of the Johnny Mercer and Cole Porter songs, respectively, found on Somethin' Else have long been considered part of jazz's alluring mystique. Adderley and Davis bring contrasting approaches to the table yet sound of a singular mind on "Autumn Leaves," with the latter's muted trumpet and the headliner's lush alto saxophone dovetailing into a performance that endures as a blueprint for expression, counterpoint, sophistication, fluidity, and linearity. Blues, melody, and romance pour from their horns. Their bandmates, picking up on the intimate vibe and calm mood here – as well as on the spry, head-over-heels spirit of "Love for Sale" – join in on the conversation with sharp economy and float-on-air roundedness.

Not to undersell the other three numbers, all deserving five-star status. Twelve measures in length, the title track offers a slow burn in swing. Written by Adderley's brother, Nat, the 12-bar "One for Daddy-O" transmits funk flavors. The closing "Dancing in the Dark" pops with lushness and temptation, its stream of bold colours and understated textures calling for a moonlight twirl, or at least fantasies suggestive of a memorable night. Somethin' else, indeed.

Lee Gamble’s UIQ label unveils a second album from Filipina-Australian artist Corin Ileto, deploying a brace of swarming alien chorales and rapturous digital rave noise to explore the idea of sound as a sentient being. Bold and operatic, cinematic and cybernetic.

Named after the iconic choral work by 20th Century avant-garde legend György Ligeti (as immortalised by Stanley Kubrick in 2001), ‘Lux Aeterna' explores the idea of micropolyphony, a term Ligeti described as a complex polyphony "in which harmonies do not change suddenly, but merge into one another." Like Ligeti, Corin isn't primarily concerned with melody or rhythm, but timbre: the colour and quality of sound itself.

Taking its time to unfurl, the album opens with ‘lumen naturae’, winding tonal clouds that eventually latch onto a misshapen hoover sound that curves into the abyss. Corin shows her hand more formally on 'sunta', balancing layered cybernetic drones against ratcheting metallic rhythms and unstable textures. When the track cuts to almost-silence, it reminds us of Akira Rabelais' ghosted 'Spellewauerynsherde' (itself an impressionistic granulation of vocal recordings), before being disrupted by a dynamic kick that shares DNA with club music.

But despite her occasional flirtations with the club, Ileto doesn't appear to have any interest in making functional dance music. Instead, she emphasises momentum and texture. Like a celestial opera, ecstatic trance is reimagined within the context of sacred liturgy – merging hyper-real soundscapes with Gregorian chant and medieval instrumentation. Chrome-plated clangs and growling subs highlight the album’s sci-fi leanings, tapping into a sort of retro-futurism that balances a hi-tech mindset with a feeling of deep vulnerability and alienation.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Tom James Scott holds a unique position in experimental music. With a soft brush approach Scott, who currently lives on the North-West coast of England, has explored delicacy in music with a variety of sublime releases on a variety of labels. Predominantly known for gentle investigations of guitar and piano, Scott has shifted to incorporating different technology and tactics over time. All of this, either in performance or recording, is embedded with a spirit that is quintessentially his own. Nightshade is the latest in his expanding catalogue, one which ignites an alarmingly new take on his approach to music. Echo on Water initiates proceedings with the unmistakable sound of tape.

Any instrumentation is buried amongst the woozy sway of the medium itself, with its rough dynamics soon morphing into an overwhelmingly swirling mass of emotionally decayed sound. The movement of matter takes on a haunted shape with sounds looping and falling apart as the physicality of the medium holds it all together. The second track Blue Mist furthers this approach with its smeared haze of gorgeous emotion. This is deep exploration of ideas meeting matter. Wasting Stars takes up the entire flip side with the sound of tape recoiling a bit to allow the delicate glow of instruments to come more to the fore, with gentle effects that weave the musical matter. As a skewered take on Scott’s earlier piano explorations the atmosphere here is a subdued soundscape evoking the spiritual sadness found in the piano works of Gurdjieff/De Hartmann, with a modern lo fi angle.

Nightshade is a deeply effective journey and one of the most exquisite examples of Scott’s delicate approach so far. Two sides of form which inhabit contrasting yet complimentary clouds of sound communicating in an stunning emotional flow. As music with only trace elements of melody, Nightshade is a beautiful take on tools being used to explore paths both highly idiosyncratic, deeply moving and discreetly personal.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Originating with HoneyLuv, made in collaboration with Tuskegee co-founder Seth Troxler, and featuring portions of Paul Johnson’s classic 1998 track ‘So Much’, ’Sex & The City' is HoneyLuv’s homage to one of house music’s greats and an encapsulation of Tuskegee Music’s ethos of honouring the genre’s Black & Hispanic origins. Detroit house legend Marc Kinchen’s interpretations of the track imbues Sex & The City with all the beloved MK touches, from the inimitable drum patterns to the instant-earworm melody.

The release marks the return of the label founded by Seth Troxler & The Martinez Brothers in 2014. In addition to music from its label heads, Tuskegee Music featured artists including Omar-S, Jamal Moss, K' Alexi Shelby, D-Knox and William Djoko before going into hiatus in 2019. The label’s upcoming schedule will continue to focus on its remit of supporting BIPOC artists, through the elevation of new talent and collaborations with some of house & techno’s most important and influential figures.

Renowned Danish trumpeter Kasper Tranberg reforms his delicate chord-less trio with Nils Davidsen (bass & cello) and Frands Rifbjerg (drums) for the release of "Nobody"s Heart". Active on the jazz and improv scenes since the early 90s, Tranberg has been described as a player of great heart and purpose. Inspired by the iconic improvisers of our time, the album explores the connection between their instrument, their body and their soul. A collection of eight songs that Tranberg has deemed his favorites of the past few decades, the repertoire ranges from tin pan alley legends Rodgers and Hart, to visionaries like Ornette Coleman, to contemporary Danish singer/songwriter C.V. Jorgensen. On selecting the repertoire, Tranberg says "it was not about surface flash, technique or speed, but I followed my heart, my own footsteps and encounters in the previous 2 or 3 decades". Tranberg, Davidsen & Rifbjerg have been performin together since the early 1990"s, united by their passion for an exploratory and unpredictable playing style. With emphasis on stillness, melody, and texture, the record"s tone is melancholy, peaceful, and restorative. Tranberg"s intimate, warm trumpet sound soars above a bed of fluid bass and drum texture, slowly evolving from miniscule and sparse to dense and chaotic. Egoless, mature, and without flash, it is apparent the ensemble holds listening in high regard The trio seems to breathe as one, with each member aiming to make every note and sound mean something. Capturing the essence of each of the songs and making them undeniably their own, "Nobody"s Heart" is deeply personal, meditative and intricate. "Sometimes something else sings through the room and music - not often, but it"s a great feeling when it happens." - Kasper Tranberg

Emil Amos (Grails, OM and podcaster plus) decommissions pieces originally bound for the KPM library. A personal interpolation of "music for films (& television)" expounds upon diverse sounds: synthy 80s soundtracks, contemporary hip-hop beatmaking, ambient music, and The Hulk"s "Lonely Man Theme". Emil"s dark visions are full of noirish shadows and eerie neon glow - mood music for drug trips spent dreaming up new soundtracks to take drugs to! Emil Amos" forthcoming Zone Black album is a fully inhabitable world, its episodic narrative divided into an improbable balance between morbid ambient anthems and insouciant hip-hop instrumentals. Emil hadn"t heard it done quite this way before, so he took it upon himself. And it sounds real! Straight out of Madlib"s kitchen sink, and with a sense of brooding dread, "Jealous Gods" features throbbing beats, low synth paired with high vocal melody, layered together into something even more impossibly bizarre than the sum of their parts - like say, monks singing from on high, over a battleground littered with remnants of the old guard. Emil warps evocative tones, taking familiar sounds into new dimensions, reaching for the kind of depth and resonance that defines moments with an almost invisible touch.

"Terra Em Desapego" marks the second longplayer of the Portuguese for LIFEFORCE RECORDS. On the 2019 album "Eterno Rancor", a cover of the Bad Brains was found in the last place. On the EPs released since then, the group from Lisbon has taken on tracks by Only Living Witness, Napalm Death and Devo. This fits conceivably well, because BESTA have proven to be a band that moves between death'n'grindcore, punk and hardcore. The seven tracks of "Terra Em Desapego" are above all uncompromising and oppressive. BESTA appear direct and furious at all times, but do not miss out on variety. More melody and atmosphere than on the new album have never been. The Portuguese surprise with playful, sometimes really catchy heavy songs that still sound familiar rough and pleasingly uncomfortable. The more consciousness and metallic basis as well as the clearer production work fit in very well. BESTA continue to sound impulsive and biting, but "Terra Em Desapego" opens up a different approach to the rigorous approach of the Lisbon band. All this does not change anything about the lyrics in the Portuguese mother tongue of the musicians - of course not. Cover art was done by CVSPE (Arch Enemy, Uniform) and the album was produced by Miguel Tereso (Analepsy, Sinistro).

Mary Jane Leach is a composer focussed on the physicality of sound, its acoustic properties and how they interact with space. She has played an instrumental role in NYC’s pioneering Downtown scene alongside Arthur Russell, Ellen Fullman, Peter Zummo, Philip Corner and Arnold Dreyblatt, as well as devoting years to the preservation and reappraisal of Julius Eastman’s work since his death in 1990, compiling the »Unjust Malaise« 3CD set in 2005 and editing the 2015 book »Gay Guerrilla: Julius Eastman and His Music«. »Woodwind Multiples« is her second album for Modern Love, following »(f)lute songs« (2018).

»Woodwind Multiples« features four pieces for multiples of the same instrument: four bass flutes, nine oboes, nine clarinets, and seven bassoons. Each piece works closely with the unique sound of each instrument, combining pitches that create other, sometimes unexpected, tones, primarily combination and interference tones, as well as rhythmic patterns. What you hear is what happens naturally - there is no processing or manipulation.

»8B4 (1985/2022)«, played by Manuel Zurria, is for four bass flutes. It is a revision of 8x4, which was written in 1985 for the DownTown Ensemble and was only performed once, due to its unusual instrumentation: alto flute, English horn (originally bass oboe), clarinet, and voice.

»Xantippe’s Rebuke« (1993) was written for Libby Van Cleve, for eight taped oboes and one live, solo oboe. The eight taped parts are equal and dependent, while the solo part is meant to be a solo with the tape as accompaniment. The piece works with the unique sound of the oboe, starting with unison pitches that create the richest sound, building the piece from there. Pitches and rhythmic patterns that occur naturally are notated and then played later, which in turn create other pitches and rhythmic patterns. So, in effect, the nature of the oboe and its natural sound determine the direction of the piece.

»Charybdis« (2020), played by Sam Dunscombe, is for solo clarinet and eight taped clarinets. It combines a somewhat obscured reference to Weep You No More, a John Dowland piece, which combines with the sound phenomena created from the melody and supporting chords of the Dowland.

»Feu de Joie« (1992) was written for bassoonist Shannon Peet and is an homage to the bassoon and its wonderful sound. It is for seven parts—six taped and one »live.« The taped bassoons combine to create a bed of sound that exploits the unique qualities of the bassoon, creating combination and interference tones, starting off with unison pitches, creating a rich sound that builds from there. Most of the subsequent pitches and phrases occur naturally, and are then notated later on in the piece, which in turn creates other notes and phrases.

Dance music powerhouse Deeptrax follows up recent dispatches from Joey Anderson and Caim, with a label debut from fellow Dutch techno stalwart Robert Vosmeijer AKA De Sluwe Vos, who offers a 5-track collection that explores the depths of both music and sound.

Crafted during the pandemic, Vosmeijer, who had been experimenting with ambient music and sound design, found himself longing for the dancefloor and its ability to disconnect you from reality whilst reconnecting you with friends. As such he began digging into his record collection, absorbing sounds and reenergising his creative output.

"I loved making these records because it felt like I could express myself, within the 'De Sluwe Vos' project, again.”

The Patron Records boss’ new Terraforming EP opens with ‘Reeeese’, a heavyweight ode to the legendary bass sound that underpins the track with its thick layer of treacly warmth. Solar Prince turns our focus on percussion, with its xylophone melody dancing between vaporised synths and string-laced stabs, to create a soothing and yet urgent soundtrack.

On the flip, title track Terraforming, with its wonderful analogue crackles and hisses, lets the pulsing sub steal the show again as pressurised hats snappily punch holes in the atmosphere. Jupiter's Universe exudes a roughly cut techno 2step, layered with pulsing cosmic synths and bubbling melody.

Finally the EP is rounded off by Crawford. Another track that perfectly rides the intersection of music production and sound design. It’s cosmic keys and scything synths work almost at odds with the tribal roll of his drums, yet come together to create a mature and unique production.

The 3rd vinyl produced by Southwax, a collective of DJ Producers and Graphic Designers based in Marseille, London, Lille and Liverpool.

Side A, a compo by the White Knight , a producer based in Marseille, in collaboration with James Bacon, cut for the dance floor with a heady sample taken from a classic French film from the 70's whose melody is easily recognisable by Vladimir C., an inspired tribute to the tradition of French Touch tracks with a Kick worthy of Chicago House.

Side B - French Disco Machine, produced by James Bacon in the style of Justice/ Sebastian, with a big techno kick and a disco sample that is destructured and filtered to the extreme. James Bacon is best known for his techno productions under the name LENSKID on Analog Records for the legendary DJ Fresh. For Southwax he has produced a sonic UFO that will shake the walls.

Maxi 45 rpm blue vinyl pressed by French sound craftsmen La Manufacture des Vinyles in Annecy.

Carl Finlow keeps on keepin' on. Not only is Finlow one of the most respected names in electro, a producer who boasts a sprawling catalogue that takes in a wide variety of aliases, but he's also spent recent years establishing himself as a mainstay for Sheffield's Central Processing Unit label. Soft Robotics, the new EP from Finlow's Silicon Scally project, is the fifth Silicon Scally release in five years to boast one of CPU's instantly-recognisable black-and-white covers.

The reason that Silicon Scally and CPU keep linking up is simple; they're a perfect fit for one another. Central Processing Unit has established itself as a haven for post-Drexciya producers since launching in 2012, and there are few artists better than Finlow at building on the Detroit group's sound. The union bears fruit once more on Soft Robotics, an EP of lithe machine-funk jams that will both do damage in the dance and also reward more concentrated home listening.

Things begin at a steadier speed than one might expect. Rather than barrelling off with the kind of sinewy roller one associates with the CPU name, Soft Robotics' title-track takes things at mid-pace. The groove reveals itself without hurry, Silicon Scally adding or subtracting elements - twitchy modular loops, pensive pads, the occasional blurt of low-end - atop the chugging bass/drums groove. It's a track which wins you over with guile rather than force.

As the name of subsequent cut 'Jitters' intimates, this one picks things up a little after 'Soft Robotics'. The tempo is higher here, the central beat more nervy. At their cores, though, 'Jitters' and 'Soft Robotics' are kindred spirits. Here, another slyly insistent bit of drum programming comes swirled up with all sorts of extraterrestrial tones, from little nuggets of melody supplied by the keys to electrifying synth stabs and percussive squelches.

Things limber up further still on first B-side 'Spin Ratio'. The track's 808 kicks are punchier than those of the A-side jams, and there's a dizziness to the bass tone which gives 'Spin Ratio' an intriguingly off-kilter feel. Atop the booming beat we find ourselves hypnotised by cells of melody and harmony interlocking or moving apart - particularly the staccato module at the track's heart. Sure enough, 'Spin Ratio' is the Soft Robotics joint which cleaves closest to Drexciya, invoking other Detroit disciples like Jensen Interceptor in the process.

After Soft Robotics picks up speed in the middle, closer 'Super Fluid Tones' brings us back to where we started. This track returns to the more measured delivery of the record's opener - there's a steady pulse to the drums, and once again Silicon Scally packs the mix with so many intriguing whizzes, bangs, blips and blurts that it's impossible not be won over by this tune's construction. 'Soft Robotics' and 'Super Fluid Tones' bookend Soft Robotics very nicely, and Silicon Scally's smart pacing gives the EP a lovely ebb and flow.

The ever-excellent Carl Finlow drops a Silicon Scally release via Central Processing Unit for the fifth year running. Like its predecessors, Soft Robotics is an excellent and deftly-crafted collection of modern machine-funk.

RIYL: Drexciya, Jensen Interceptor, Fleck E.S.C., The Advent

Repress!

The Self Split EP features Kouhei Matsunaga at his chimeric best for Diagonal, delivering two jazzy, freehand concrète collabs with Japanese sound artist and Eartaker noise maker, Masayuki Imianishi, plus two dance-offs with himself as NHK yx koyxen and Speedy K.Gelling Kouhei's many sonic handles for a full spectrum showcase of style and pattern, the set is riddled with a singular mischievous genius at every fold and warp. The Texture Foggy pieces render a more reflective, cosmic aspect of Kouhei's character. Working with Masayuki Imianishi, he terraforms paper, radio, field recordings and synths into vivid alien ecologies of shimmering electronics and spheric melody with a highly visual quality that perhaps betrays Kouhei's talents as an illustrator. For virulent examples of Kouhei at the rave, NHK yx koyxen and Speedy K's Step Move #01 is quite possibly the wonkiest peaktime juggernaut of the year, and the acid wormhole of Early Mellow Darkness sounds like the bald - as in bad - acid offspring of Luke Slater and Ed Rush. Once again Kouhei makes us go mad at the rave, but this time with something to come home and melt into as well.

Lori McKenna titled her album 1988 after the year she married her husband, Gene, yet the 10 songs within also serve as a love letter to lifelong friendships, people she’s lost, and her family. Recorded with producer Dave Cobb in Savannah, Georgia, 1988 naturally has its nostalgic moments, even if not every ending is a happy one. With more of an electric edge than her past projects, 1988 feels in step with classic ‘90s albums by Sheryl Crow or Gin Blossoms, where the lyrics pulled you in as much as the melody or production. Playing together on acoustic guitars while facing one another in the studio, McKenna and Cobb tracked the album live, giving it a feeling of immediacy and authenticity.