High Roller Records, 180g black vinyl, ltd 250, 425gsm heavy cardboard cover, insert, poster, A5 photo card, black vinyl bonus 7" in p/s
Auf "The Principle of Doubt" stellten Mekong Delta Uwe Baltrusch als neuen Gitarristen vor, der Reiner Kelch ersetzte, und ließen die 1980er mit einem Highlight ausklingen. Das 1989er Studioalbum der deutschen Tech-Thrash-Pioniere stand seinen beiden Vorgängern in nichts nach, zeichnete sich aber durch die bisher dynamischste Produktion der Band aus - gut so in Hinblick auf jene Orchesterparts, die man Band in Zukunft regelmäßig von der Band zu hören bekommen sollte.
High Roller Records, 180g black vinyl, ltd 250, 425gsm heavy cardboard cover, insert, poster, A5 photo card, black vinyl bonus 7" in p/s
Auf "The Principle of Doubt" stellten Mekong Delta Uwe Baltrusch als neuen Gitarristen vor, der Reiner Kelch ersetzte, und ließen die 1980er mit einem Highlight ausklingen. Das 1989er Studioalbum der deutschen Tech-Thrash-Pioniere stand seinen beiden Vorgängern in nichts nach, zeichnete sich aber durch die bisher dynamischste Produktion der Band aus - gut so in Hinblick auf jene Orchesterparts, die man Band in Zukunft regelmäßig von der Band zu hören bekommen sollte.
Bryan Beller's (Joe Satriani, Aristocrats, Dethklok) epic progressive double concept 2019 album feat. 26 all-star musicians now on Blue Swirl 2LP in gatefold jacket available! Bassist/composer Bryan Beller (The Aristocrats, Joe Satriani, Dethklok, Steve Vai) presents a sweeping, epic-scale modern progressive double concept album that asks the question: When the storm comes for us, the big one after which things will not be the same, who are we and what do we become in those defining moments? What do we keep, and what do we let go? "Scenes From The Flood" employs an all-star cast of 26 musicians to explore themes of ambition and loss, intentionality and reality, hope and disillusionment. It uses every second of its 18-song, 88-minute running order to tell an emotionally consuming and unforgettable musical story. Produced and composed by Bryan Beller (except "Angles & Exits," composed by Janet Feder), mixed and mastered by Forrester Savell. "Scenes From The Flood" is performed by: Christopher Allis, Bryan Beller, Nili Brosh, Paul Cartwright, Darran Charles, Julian Coryell, Mike Dawes, Janet Feder, Guthrie Govan, Ray Hearne, Gene Hoglan, Mike Keneally, Jamie Kime, Fred Kron, Teddy Kumpel, Jake Howsam Lowe, Evan Mazunik, Nate Morton, Rick Musallam, Mike Olekshy, Griff Peters, John Petrucci, Matt Rohde, Joe Satriani, Rishabh Seen, Joe Travers, Leah Zeger.
The work of each of these powerfully creative & exceptionally perceptive individuals - poet and scholar Fred Moten and jazz bassist Brandon Lopez - concerns itself with how one might navigate the ascending reign of longinstitutionalised madness while simultaneously keeping humanity and sanity intact The synergistic mesh of these two voices in Duo is here presented on record for the frst time, following two acclaimed works on the Reading Group label in trio with Gerald Cleaver. Inimitable poet, cultural theorist, author, 2020 MacArthur Fellow, Fred Moten creates new conceptual spaces that accommodate emergent forms of Black cultural production, aesthetics, and social life. Moten is a professor of performance studies and comparative literature at New York University concerned with social movement, aesthetic experiment, and Black study. He is also a United States Artists Rockefeller Fellow and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Puerto Rican- American bassist Brandon Lopez is the son of a gravedigger who himself put time in doing the same, developing muscles that serve him well in his thorough command of the upright bass. On moving to NYC, Lopez made himself indispensable within numerous realms of creative music. As the Cleveland Review of Books noted, "This is virtuosity as vocabulary, a total command of texture, subtlety, and a depth that can be reached into."
On their previous work in trio with Gerald Cleaver:
"Best Jazz Albums of 2022: Moten is after nothing less than a full interrogation of the ways Black systems of knowledge have been strip-mined and cast aside, and yet have regrown." - New York Times
"8.0 - A conceptually rich, politically weighty album that asks timeless questions without over-explaining...breathlessly complex" - Pitchfork
Following up their critically-acclaimed 2024 LP Avoude (5 stars and 'Top of the World' on Songlines, Bandcamp top pick, Le Monde, BBC Radio, Pop Matters and more), Sol Power Sound is proud to present a blistering EP of remixes from the thrilling psychedelic West African outfit, Dogo du Togo & the Alagaa Beat Band.
Combining iconic traditional Togolese rhythms and melodies, Dogo du Togo’s sound is anchored in the country’s often overlooked, but extraordinary rich cultural history, reflecting the local Vodun religion and traditions that permeate everyday life in Togo.
For the remixes, Sol Power Sound enlisted a cast of renowned producers to rework the scorching originals into deeper club-friendly burners.
Captain Planet leads off the A side with a modern and percussive African house groove that will get any room with a pulse up and jumping
Sol Power All-Stars ask the question 'what if Prince joined Dogo du Togo in 1983?' and answer with a blistering dance funk track laced with synths, arpeggios, and Moog.
Rounding out the A-side is Detroit legend John Beltran, who transports Dogo and crew to Bahia for an Afro-Brazilian balearic heat rock. Perfect for your next sunset soiree.
Blair French, another Detroit icon, leads off the B-side with a deep and organic house groove that works equally well day, night, or early morning.
Sol Power All-Stars reappear again on side b with their mid tempo groovy Afrobeats flip of Von Na Agbeto, the one track that was not featured on Dogo’s LP.
Finally, DC mystery man Glenn Echo gets loose and trippy on the boards with a psychedelic digi dub (in 12/8!) that rattles your chest and puts your being directly into the echo chamber.
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Last delivered 16 months ago available to reorder, subject to availability
Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?
You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.
On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.
The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.
Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.
So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:
I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”
Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.
Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,
“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”
And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.
Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.
Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?
You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.
On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.
The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.
Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.
So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:
I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”
Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.
Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,
“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”
And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.
Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.
Neck-snapping soul masterpiece from Freddie Scott, famously sampled by Biz Markie for his melancholic pop-rap hit "Just A Friend" and a surefire piano-driven basement party anthem in its own right.
The work of the legendary producers Gamble & Huff, the track was also sampled by Ghostface Killah for the wonderful "Save Me Dear" with Jay Dilla also utilising the crunching drums to lace many memorable productions for A Tribe Called Quest and Slum Village.
A peerless piece of deep soul and hip-hop history, here's your chance to own the first ever officially licensed reissue on 45.
On the flip, "Powerful Love" is uptempo guitar-soul with finger-popping swing. Featuring delicate horns and gorgeous backing vocals, it's an unfairly slept-on gem but, given the weight of the A-Side, this is perfectly understandable.
This special 7" single comes housed in a heavy duty custom printed full-colour company sleeve and is limited to just 500 copies.
out of Stock
Last delivered 18 months ago available to reorder, subject to availability
Hiromi’s band Sonicwonder formed in early 2023, leading up to the release of the group’s first album together. She selected each musician in the group strategically, choosing artists with a specific sound in mind who could paint the picture of her compositions. Hiromi’s Sonicwonder has been playing and touring together since then. With their second album as a group, OUT THERE, the band reaches a new level of chemistry and musical cohesion.
With Leaving It All to Chance, Roomer don't quite leave everything up to fate. The Berlin outfit's debut album hums with guitar-driven heartbreak, pairing mind-splitting noise with seductive melodies. Capturing the gritty yet emotive energy of their live performances, the album welcomes in the occasional ear-candy, staying true to the raw physicality of a hazy club show all while sharpening its edges-crafted in true DIY spirit and released by Munich's Squama Recordings.
Roomer is the meeting point of four distinct creative forces in the European music scene, united through long-standing friendships and years of collaboration across projects ranging from avant-garde free improv to ethereal folk and ambient electronica. Inevitably-if surprisingly late-the question arose: why not start a band? In their hands, the rock band format became a canvas for their many musical worlds to collide.
SYML is the solo venture of artist Brian Fennell. Welsh for “simple”—he makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. Says Fennell about his album Nobody Lives Here, "We change, the world changes, and there is so much unknown. About a year ago I started writing songs that represent the change that is happening in front of my face, a group that have emerged to become the third SYML album. Many of these songs are about getting older, and the intimate, and sometimes frightening, passing of time. Some are about how getting older revolves around looking forward to things happening, and when they don’t happen, or they feel different than anticipated, we can be left with surprise and sadness. I’m actually reminded of this watching my 2 year old! We learn to live with disappointment. I recorded some of these songs with kids and dogs making noise in the background, and others in silent studios with musicians I’ve listened to and admired for many years. These songs are meant to be pieces of clothing to wear as you need (or I need). Some are bright and bold and others are gentle, but they were all made with a sense of comfort in mind, even when things feel bleak. My wife jokes that when our friends hear some of these songs, they might think we are not “ok”. Thankfully, putting myself inside a sad song is still a good place to feel happy. There's this generally unspoken feeling that musicians don’t listen to their own music. That isn’t true for me. I love living with my songs because their meaning changes as I change. There is as much fear and beauty in the big questions as there is wonder and possibility in the simple, everyday shit we live through.”
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.
This is a recorded document performed by Mark Holub, Johanna Pärli and Sofía Salvo.
As a trio, they had not met until sound-checking for their gig at Berlin’s Cashmere Radio on September 1, 2023 — a fact that may be concealed by their immediate understanding as a musical entity but is obvious by their artistic freedom and curiosity towards each hoc encounters, flexible and steadfast in its performance, and that culminated in an experience that shook the floor of the radio station’s headquarters.
The day after, Sofía, Johanna and Mark gathered in Adam Asnan’s studio and deepened their quest for a communal language. They ignored any musical fetters or conventions, enjoyed the possibilities of a wider time frame without a live audience — and exceeded all hopes of what three personalities can achieve when they are given the space and time to experiment, detached from any restrictions.
Mark Holub is a drummer of outstanding versatility and responsiveness, full of ideas and quick on his feet. Through his playing as well as his experience as a band-leader and composer he is able to steer this coequal group towards thundering crescendo, but sits equally comfortable in the centre of complex and fine rhythm probing in response to impulses thrown in by his companions.
Johanna Pärli makes use of her double bass’s entire body, extracting an armada of multi- layered sounds with an immensely high sonic spectrum that is also reflected in the diversity of her musical projects. She is both patient and wildly adventurous in her performance, and in this trio her contribution wanders from considerate bow work to brisk fingerpicking, gnarly string strikes and pedal use to startling effects.
Sofía Salvo unleashes the full unbounded potential of her voice by taking advantage of her baritone saxophone’s broad range of possibilities. She is one of Berlin’s most singular musicians and her widely proven capabilities cover gentle additions to support and underline pulsive interplay just as masterfully as rapid licks and roaring bursts of noise, spurring the collective to unpredictable intensity.
If music of this particular kind often gives the impression of a constant search, this international trio certainly managed to find common ground and capture a special moment in time for listeners to (re-)discover. Contrary to what frequent misconception sometimes suggests, it’s also tremendous fun.
NERR — Filling Open Spaces was instantly composed and performed live in studio by Mark Holub on drums, Johanna Pärli on double bass and Sofía Salvo on baritone saxophone, recorded in Berlin on September 2, 2023 and mixed by Adam Asnan. Mastered and cut by Rashad Becker, vinyl pressed at Pallas. Artwork and design by Stefan Lingg, produced by Christoph Berg and Stefan Lingg.
Research Records indicate their inclination for cosmic instrumentation and kraut pervaded polyrhythms once again with an introduction to newcomer Glass Beams. Recorded at the beginning of 2020, Mirage is the first release from the artist, issuing four compositions that lend from a profusion of sounds and influences.
The album's opener and title Mirage arrives with a coiling vocal mantra that conspires with a sliding bassline and transcendent synthwork, reminiscent of early 70's prog jams yet inverted and futuristic. Taurus is a brisk arrangement, steeped with spaghetti-western elements and space-jazz to pave the way for the agile Kong. Rife with psych-fusion guitar phrases and instrumentation, Kong unfolds like a forecast lysergic voyage. The finale Rattlesnake nudges the serpent with intergalactic scales and spellbinding riffs. We may not know much about the enigmatic Glass Beams but Mirage is one epic inauguration, leaving the listener with more questions than answers.
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Last delivered 72 days ago available to reorder, subject to availability
It was quite unexpected to see the very prolific and talended Pieter Kock featuring on Macadam Mambo - which is usualy used to new-comers - as he has released a lot in the past 2 years on very nice labels like RIO, Meakusma or Moonwalk X. But, the demos that he sent were so good that there was no question about doing something. And with a lot of possibilities, to prepare a double album that is now composed of 15 quality tracks for 1h20 of music... What vibes are in here! It’s heavy, loudy, loopy, mental, smokey, and always surprising. Pieter has is very own universe, and is without doubt one of the most interesting electronic musician at the moment.
Should we ask you to give chance to this opus, and tell you you won’t regret it ? We don’t think we need to do so... J
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Last delivered 11 months ago available to reorder, subject to availability
Soul music has always been in Paul Weller’s blood from early Jam covers of Martha & the Vandellas 1963 classic ‘Heatwave’. Along with other forms of music, soul found its way into Paul’s record collection, nourishing his ears and informing his own songwriting
We don’t need to recap a questing musical career from the Jam to the Style Council and then blossoming into one of the most productive and revered careers of any UK solo artist. Paul has written anthems, standards and a songbook that have always developed from his own feelings.
Whilst Paul has talked about his love of soul music he has, before now, simply been too busy to sit down and curate a collection of his favourite tracks and get it into the record racks.
Ace Records are honoured and delighted to finally release that Paul Weller curated collection which he has aptly titled, “That Sweet Sweet Music”.
This 2-LP set and CD open the curtains on 26 tracks that are some of Paul’s favourite soul records most of which nestle on vinyl in his own collection. He can still recall paying £70 for his copy of Jon Lucien’s 1971 ‘Search For The Inner Self’ 7” at a record shop in Leicester in the 90s. Some of these tracks are soul classics like James Carr’s 1966 ‘Pouring Water On A Drowning Man’ and Brother to Brother’s brilliant take on Gil Scott Heron and Brian Jackson’s ‘In The Bottle’ from 1974. Others are deliciously obscure wonderous gems like the A-side of Blackrock’s sole 1971 single ‘Blackrock “Yeah, Yeah”’, ‘Life Walked Out’ from the same year by the Mist or Syl Johnson’s ‘Black Balloons’ taken from his 1970 album “Is It Because I’m Black?”.
There are plenty of big vocal hitters such as Darrell Banks, Spinners, Joe Simon, O.C. Smith, the Dells and Betty Davis. Whilst the core is vocal soul the music does branch out with Paul selecting a wicked instrumental from the flipside of the Isley Brothers’ ‘Twist & Shout’ from 1962 and the funky jazz of the Headhunters ‘God Made Me Funky’, the A-side of their first 1975 seven-inch.
180g black vinyl - limited to 200 numbered copies.
"What is my heart now"is the debut solo album by Ziemowit Klimek, known so far from bands such as Immortal Onion, Hania Rani, and Magda Kuraś Quintet. It is a cycle of five improvised compositions – "What," "Is," "My," "Heart," and "Now" – unified by a unique artistic concept, with each piece created in collaboration with a different musician.
The creative process for each of the five duets began with a conversation between Ziemowit, the guest artist, and the video team. Deconstructing the title word into its fundamental elements through questions like "What does 'What' mean? What emotions and associations does this word evoke in us? How can we capture its essence in sound and image?" became the starting point for artistic exploration.
To preserve the authenticity of the material as much as possible, both sound and image were recorded live, with no cuts or post-production editing. Equally important was the choice of spaces that corresponded to the meaning of each title word. Instead of sterile studios, the recordings took place in a variety of unique locations – "Heart" was captured in Ziemowit's most personal space, his bedroom, while "Now" was recorded inside a car during a dynamic drive, where the physical forces acting on the musicians significantly influenced their decisions while playing.
The album resonates with dialogue – not only musical but also emotional and intellectual. It is a meeting of individualities who, for Ziemowit, are not only inspirations as artists but also significant people in his life."What is my heart now"is an album about defining one's identity and capturing the moment, created in an atmosphere of honesty and trust. Ultimately, the question arises: is it even possible to definitively answer the question posed in the album's title?
Mint green vinyl, limited to 350 copies. Dead Meadow's highly anticipated tenth studio album Voyager to Voyager marks a defining moment in their illustrious 26-year journey. Revered as a pioneering force in the heavy psychedelic rock scene since their formation in the late '90s, the band delivers not only their most emotionally charged and sonically expansive album to date but also a powerful tribute to their brother, late bassist Steve Kille, whose battle against cancer and untimely passing in early 2024 has made it the poignant end of a chapter in the band's history. Written and recorded across three intense sessions in downtown LA's Ultrasound Studios, Voyager to Voyager perfectly encapsulates Dead Meadow's raw energy and creative chemistry. During the sessions, the band worked quickly, using only the first or second take to preserve the immediacy found in their live show, with drummer Mark Laughlin delivering some of his best performances to date.
“I saw a literal manifestation of the sacred feminine, and had this profound sense that I was meant to embody it,” recalls celebrated singer-songwriter Lindsay Lou after journeying through a hallucinogenic ritual that would inform the way she processed waves of grief in the sea of change ahead of her. The loss of her grandmother, the end of her marriage, and the overwhelming turmoil of the last few years found the Nashville-based artist on a spiritual journey of self-knowledge and healing with this gift from the mystic swirl. On her new album Queen of Time (due September 29th from Kill Rock Stars), Lou explores that quest across ten tracks of tender, heartbreakingly beautiful music. Featuring a gamut of guests including GRAMMY® Award-winners Billy Strings and Jerry Douglas, Queen of Time celebrates love and loss, but above all, the art of living as an unattainably—a vibrant, powerful woman who can share herself with the world, and yet define a mighty sense of inner self as well.
In July 1983, the Hebrew Israelite vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Margeeah Aharon recorded her debut album "Looking For Love", a melange of devotional jazz, soul, funk and reggae. Reissued on Frederiksberg Records for the first time and a very much sought after soul / funk / reggae record.
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QUEENDOM is an album that marks a new era for the project while staying true to the essence of Minuit Machine. Produced under the SYNTH RELIGION label, this opus immerses us in Amandine's introspective realm, oscillating between darkness and light, between doubt and self-conquest. While retaining the emotional DNA of previous productions, QUEENDOM stands out with a more pop-oriented touch, featuring tracks where Amandine sings in French for the first time.
The first single, "HOLD ME," is a powerful pop anthem addressed to the queer community, celebrating the freedom to be oneself and breaking free from societal and patriarchal norms. This track is a true empowerment statement, with striking electro beats supporting a strong message of emancipation and pride.
"Créatures," a collaboration between RAUMM and Minuit Machine, is a modern fairy tale—a timeless love story that could take place in any era. This salvific love, rarely seen today, embodies a poignant depth and beauty.
Continuing the journey, "Cent Fois"—a French-written track—takes us into a techno-pop universe with nostalgic yet hopeful undertones. This song perfectly reflects Minuit Machine's evolution toward a more radiant approach while staying faithful to its dark heritage.
"Party People," on the other hand, is a return to roots with dark wave/italo sounds. This hypnotic and haunting track questions identity in an increasingly robotic society, where individuals are forced to conform to imposed norms. This exploration of the individual versus the collective lies at the core of Minuit Machine's DNA.
"Mes Souvenirs," created in collaboration with Rebeka Warrior, dives intimately into the memories of Amandine and Rebeka. Together, they reveal fragments of their past—precious and vibrant memories that resonate through powerful and melancholic electro sounds.
Finally, the eponymous track "Queendom" invites us to plunge into the depths of Amandine's world—a universe that is both tormented and icy, yet resilient. Supported by a slow and captivating rhythm, this track is designed to grip and haunt the listener, like an incantation.
QUEENDOM is a bold and hybrid work where each track reflects a pursuit of sincerity and artistic reinvention while maintaining the ability to express emotions through rhythms that are both danceable and introspective. The album showcases Minuit Machine's artistic maturity, establishing itself as a must-listen in the darkwave and electronic pop scene.
Amandine entrusted the artistic direction of this album to Manon Dupeyrat, a brilliant young artist who crafted a bespoke universe perfectly aligned with the produced tracks. The album cover, both intimate and anachronistic, invites listeners into Amandine's private world through her bedroom, revealing what she wishes to share.
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Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?
You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.
On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.
The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.
Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.
So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:
I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”
Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.
Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,
“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”
And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.
Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.
Who is Beatrice? Who is Melissa? Could they be one and the same?
This is the question at the heart of Secret, the duo’s debut album—or at least, that’s what the music seems to suggest. If sound is an extension of ourselves, it can also become a character we shape. The main character of Secret isn’t visible to the human eye, and yet they give off an androgynous and timeless energy, rooted in multiple languages and spaces. As the album unfolds, we sense the fusion of two distinct energies combined into a single, composite being. This constantly shifting, blurred identity comes to life in the album’s profusion of genres: club music, ambient, chanson, trip-hop, UK garage, and tech house. The tracks stretch and contract, following the trajectory of a dual voice.
Behind Secret lies a mélange of perspectives. Beatrice M., a Franco-British artist at the head of the label Bait, curates an innovative blend of syncopated UK club styles (mostly dubstep) and trancy techno grooves. Melissa Weikart, a French-American songwriter trained in classical piano with a deep passion for jazz, makes intimate avant-pop songs that embody her unique, hybrid approach to music-making. The diverse musical collaborations in Secret reinforce a dynamic that is central to both of their artistic journeys from the start, and these collaborations melt seamlessly into the album’s overall aesthetic. Despite a confluence of influences, the implied development of this obscure, extraterrestrial main character grounds us in a refreshing coherence. Secret is rich in variety and style, but above all, it diffuses a calm and serene atmosphere. Even when the BPM speeds up, we are carried along, suspended in Beatrice Melissa’s uncanny world.
A MASSIVE speaker-smashing release, decades overdue. It's been bootlegged - shamefully so, many times over the years - but finally we present the first ever officially licensed reissue of this truly special Afro-disco-not-disco LP from 1979. A favourite of Harvey, Antal, Young Marco and, er, every great DJ to ever play deep records ever, basically. It's not hard to see - or, indeed, *feel* why.
Gem after gem of relentless, irresistibly funky gold, it's an incredibly revelatory album with endlessly complex drum patterns and basslines to dive into, throughout. Truly, this is uniquely FIRE music, unlike anything else you've ever heard, based on Gwo ka music from the gorgeous islands of Guadeloupe and Martinique. A thrilling synthesis of primal, hypnotic drums - the most tribal of percussive elements high in the mix throughout - with the loping synth pyrotechnics of, amongst a whole host of other greats, Wally Badarou and bass power of disco funk don Sauveur Mallia (Arpadys, Spatial & Co.)
Originally released on the seminal French label Barclay, you'd be hard pressed to even find an original copy in nice condition anywhere, let alone for a reasonable price, so it's high time an officially licensed, remastered reissue came around. It's just the latest in a long line of Be With reissues where the music sounds like the - drop-dead dazzling - cover. This here is a true drum attack. BUY ON SIGHT!
Tumblack was a short-lived project, produced and arranged by electronic wizard Yves Hayat and it can certainly be regarded as one of the first examples of Zouk, mixing powerful disco-funk arrangements with Gwo ka, traditional music from Guadeloupe. Gwo ka is an Antillean Creole term for "big drum". You can say that again! It refers to both a family of hand drums and the music played with them, which is a major part of Guadeloupean folk music.Whilst the first side is credited to the exceptional Tumblack band, the flip is given over to "Tumblack & Friends". These weren't just any old friends. Oh no, they were the absolute cream of the French scene (think Arpadys, Voyage, Le Club, Giant, CCPP, Synthesis, Swing Family) such as Sauveur Mallia, Wally Badarou, Marc Chantereau on percussion, Slim Pezin on guitar and Jean-Paul Batailley and Pierre Alain-Dahan handling drum duties.
The urgent, frantic "Fracas" gets things moving straight away with a cavalcade of drums and percussive funk before giving way to the stratospheric "Invocation", one of the album's many, many highlights. It's effectively one long heavenly drum break, a really hard, raw, tribal drum workout without a whole lot else going on - and all the better for it! One to make you sweat, no question. Up next, "Jubilé" is announced with a bellowing accapella voice, chanting the titular name before the heaviest of kicks smashes out your system and lulls you into an absolute state of bliss for nearly 6 minutes. Whoooooosh! Rounding out the sensational A-Side, "Vaudou" is a scratchy, funky patterned drum workout which - yep, yet again - absolutely slays your neck muscles, making them snap and contract in extraordinary fashion. TURN IT UP!
Ushering in the B-Side, the brief, fidgety, African chant-funk of "Parlement" segues seamlessly, beautifully into "Waka", an overwhelmingly rich gem of percussive funk. You do not want this to end, once it hits its stride. For maximum heavenly drum pleasure, you'd need to go a long way than the moment "Waka" feels like it's fading out before it kick-drum-blend into the mighty "Caraïba (Intro)". It's just staggeringly good. It's a minute-long layered drum prelude to the gigantic track which follows. Indeed, "Caraïba" is arguably the best loved and most well-known cut off the LP. And with good reason...featuring that Mallia bass, warm Rhodes and clavs, synth magic, memorably alto sax lines and, of course, tribal chanting.
Another mighty super-ahead-of-its-time classic, the bouncing bass heavy synth funk of "Chunga Funk" deploys Mallia and Wally Badarou (on Mini Moog) exceptionally well. I mean, come on, that bassline is just ridiculous. Try not to move to this one. This extraordinary record closes out with the more traditional Gwo ka sounds of "Bateau La Passé", the tribal chorus making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
Tumblack really is a gorgeous late-70s disco-not-disco essential. It's an absolute MONSTER that will completely blow you away; and, yes, it's as compelling and trance-inducing as the cover. The audio for Tumblack has been carefully remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring it sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry in Holland. The cover of Tumblack is so iconic and we sought special permission from original artist Hélène Majera to recreate this at Be With HQ. It absolutely zings off the print and serves as the perfect finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.
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Now on album number seven , Metronomy has continued where many of their 2000s ‘cool’ band peers have dropped off along the way. Small World is a return to simple pleasures, nature, an embracing in part of more pared down, songwriterly sonics (some moments wouldn’t sound amiss on a Wilco release), all while asking broader existential questions: which feels at least somewhat rooted in the period of time during which it was made – 2020. For all that Mount seems to think he has made a comparatively sombre record, much of Small World still pulses with the zesty, tongue-in-cheek joie de vivre you’d expect of a Metronomy record.
So sure, things are different now Joe Mount is getting older and what’s on his mind is changing, but that doesn’t mark a change in quality for Metronomy. An immaculate set of tracks, Joe Mount’s ability as a songwriter and arranger shines through on Small World, evergreen. Metronomy might be growing up, but they’re not afraid to still have fun with it all. Through the tumultuous ebb and flow of the years, Metronomy continues to endure and make great pop music – and, really, that’s all that we could ask for.
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Joni Void, the artistic persona of Montréal-based French-British producer Jean Néant (he/them) returns to songcraft on their warmest and most welcoming record yet, where the acclaimed sampledelic sound collagist chills out with an emotionally resonant song cycle tinged by downtempo, lo-fi, avant-pop, and trip-hop. Guests include Haco, Ytamo, Sook-Yin Lee, Pink Navel and N NAO. Every Life Is A Light expands on Void's recent stylistic turn towards more languorous and mellow lo-fi production, foreshadowed by the drifting looseness and ambient bricolage of their preceding experimental sound-art record. This transitional sensibility now shapes more defined song structures and styles, with loops are given time and space to unspool, and rhythms shot through the softer-focus lens of trip-hop and dub. Every Life Is A Light swaps the twitchy insistence of Void's acclaimed early albums for a newfound lightness and suppleness, still imbued with all the restlessness, sonic detailing, and emotional resonance that made their name. The neurotic brokenmachine kinetics of earlier Void, summarized by Sasha Geffen as "drawing despair and wonder from within the vast unfeeling of digital communication" in an 8.0 Pitchfork review, may be chilling out, but Void is becoming an ever better conjurer of hauntological feeling. Every Life Is A Light summons this in a comparatively buoyant, benevolent, head-nodding journey more open to tenderness and modest joys. Perhaps it's the sound of Void at greater peace with themselves and the world, despite the bittersweet cost: even as it channels grief, memorializing comrades and companions recently deceased, this album wants light. Void's raw materials continue to draw heavily from samples (their own Walkman cassette fieldrecordings and songs by others) and from a wide community of musical guests. Vocalists Haco on "Time Zone" and Ytamo on "Cloud Level" help levitate what could be lost tracks from a mid-90s Too Pure Records compilation of skewed-lounge electronica. Canadian musician Sook-Yin Lee sings on lead single "Vertigo," a sinewy 80bpm tape-loop and bassline groove propelled by psychedelically-layered lyrics that eventually turn the song in on itself entirely, like Grace Jones' "Nightclubbing" covered by Animal Collective. One of Void's greatest hip-hop loves is the Ruby Yacht collective; charter member Pink Navel drops some brilliant verses on "Story Board." The album's two minimal tracks, an extended piano loop set to a slow beat and shimmering electronics on "Muffin-A Song For My Cat" and the languid sampled bass riff and breakbeat of "Event Flow," are perhaps most overtly `lofi chill.' Indeed the whole album could be said to sit adjacent to those viral (if not already AI-generated) genre trends, which maybe begs the question on a lot of our minds: can specificity and authenticity of musical materials still be heard, still meaningfully signify substance and difference, still matter? Perhaps a question that fades in comparison to the career break Void could catch by landing on generic streaming playlists. More likely, these tracks remain too off-kilter, too genuinely lo-fi and ineffable, and too disqualified by the status of its peasant rights-holders, to catch the algos. Context remains the poor cousin of content. Meanwhile Void marches on, as a tireless organizer of local music events, bouncing around and often living in DIY venue, depending on the latest apartment eviction. With an ubiquitous polaroid camera in tow, they also document each communal happening with a single shot (and often a blinding flash bulb): a memory and metaphor for lives illuminated preciously, singularly, `imperfectly' in the moment. Dozens of these polaroids adorn the album's back cover and inner sleeve art in grid-like montages, as a fitting analog for the careful construction, grainy intimate materiality, and ephemeral feeling of these songs. Every Life Is A Light is Joni Void's most coherent and congenial record while relinquishing none of their experimentalist acumen as a producer or emotional attunement as a composer. Instead these qualities flourish, on an album that lights a humble flame for the fragile promise of homespun creative collaboration as unalienated labour and therapeutic communion, making an enchantingly idiosyncratic contribution to downtempo sample music along the way. Thanks for listening.
T. Gowdy returns with a major statement and luminous stylistic expansion on his third album for Constellation. Trill Scan is an exquisite suite of songs literally and figuratively about alchemy, where Gowdy melds his background in choral and medieval music with his trademark analogue electronics. Following the acclaimed Miracles (Bleep Album of the Week / Albums of the Year 2022), Gowdy's bar-raising new LP centers human voice for the first time. Choral set-pieces and solo lead vocals, along with his own lute playing, are novel elements in Gowdy's work, and draw on strains of Middle Ages polyphony and the Baroque "broken style" to further distinguish Trill Scan from anything in his discography to date. Gowdy sees "the modal language of medieval Europe as a less distant cousin to indigenous traditional music practice" compared to a Classical-colonial "patriarchal order of tonality that honours a system of domination." The 12th century Notre Dame School of choral music and 17th century style brisé each carry tonal materiality, heterodox technique, and cultural-historical symbolism central to Trill Scan's conceptual and compositional alchemy. Gowdy coheres these beautifully into his palette of serpentine slowburn electronics, a minimal analogue-driven techno shaped by aleatory strategies and tinged with post-punk grit. Gowdy's sound has been aptly described as "gently transportative, flickering like a busted halogen lamp" and his overriding pursuit of psychoacoustic immanence likened to "getting your brain massaged" and praised as "blissful work that bristles with effervescent energy, like brain waves coming in and out of focus." Trill Scan expands this sonic sensibility with more conspicuous harmonic complexity, stylistic variety, and humanistic narrative arc. Alternately sacramental and intimately personal vocals, sometimes wordless and sometimes lyrical, are worked into superlative instrumental tracks, yielding a warmly immersive concept album that's equally Gowdy's most musical. Gowdy sings explicitly of alchemy on the hypnotic album centerpiece "Novus Lumen" with lyrics that gesture at these medieval processes of material investigation. The tension between the scientific and esoteric is crucial; the separation and synthesis of physical substances in medieval alchemy maps onto his fixation with the interplay between the materiality of sound and psychoacoustics. Gowdy follows the Jungian interpretation of classic alchemical texts as an historical bridge to theories of the psyche, where consciousness itself is treated as materiality and similarly subjected to methodical analysis and experimentation, to deconstruction, dissolution, transformation, reintegration, metamorphosis. Song titles like "Arislei Bone" and "Materiadiscipuli" further reference these mythopoetic throughlines from medieval alchemy to modern psychology. Gowdy chooses disruptive forms from the history of Western music that symbolize and prefigure the modern psychological subject and its struggle for/against order, even as they also evoke liturgy and the Renaissance court. The sacramental adds a potent dimension to his pursuit of psychoacoustic activation, meditation, and transcendence, as choral passages intersperse with electronic drone and pointillism throughout the album. His gorgeous Fennesz-meets-lute rendition of the Baroque composition "Courante" by François Dufault offers idiomatic salon-secular counterpoint. Album closer "Strewn" is bookended by a final recurrence of choral invocation, with pulsing earworm motorik techno in between, over which Gowdy whisper-sings a dreamlike vision quest of mythic-alchemical imagery: "as I washed my eyes they turned to metal / and the memories melted to the metal / the metal of my heart." A mesmerizing final song that explicitly invokes Gowdy's search for materialized abstraction and substantive musical immanence wrought from his own psycho-therapeutic subjectivity, and encapsulates the album's turn towards more harmonic, historicized, and humanistic elements. Trill Scan commingles empyrean and earthly electronic songcraft to genuinely original and absorbing effect. Thanks for listening. RIYL: Coil, Nicolás Jaar, Alessandro Cortini, Pantha Du Prince, Fennesz, Visible Cloaks, Actress,
The Shard: A colossal feat in engineering, savagely piercing the London skyline with zero f**ks.
Shard View: An uncompromising moment in Boylan’s bass engineering, piercing the London soundscape with even fewer f**ks.
It’s 2025. We’ve officially moved a second closer to extinction and Boylan’s wasting no time. After years of releasing noxious missives on the most influential likes of FWD>>, Artikal, Deep Dark & Dangerous, Sentry and Mean Streets, he finally launches his own label - Shard View.
A brand new vehicle for the potent strain of ice cold apocalyptic breakbeat he and his closest allies are currently making, Shard View is inspired by the vista he and the likes of Slimzee, Trends, D.O.K, U.S.F and Youngsta see every time they’re cooking up a darkness in his Peckham studio.
Coated in visual armor from Simon Oil Gang, Shard View is London, Detroit and Berlin wrapped up in one. It’s bass, it’s techno, it’s tribal, it’s No U-Turn, it’s Virus, it’s Horsepower, it’s warehouse raves. It’s timeless. And it starts with ‘Tunnel’, an extensive 10 track trip into instrumental, full physical, heavily percussive unapologetic breakbeat music. Boylan is the main consistency throughout but all the above-mentioned names are involved and always will be. Like the great collectives of past bass epochs, the energy here is molten as the friends inspire each other with this fresh take on a classic sound.
Two more EPs should follow later this year. And as the world continues to ramp up the turbulence, so will Shard View. This is not a drill.
Any questions about any of these products feel free to get in touch and we'll help you out!
albert.preston@sequence.cc
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When it comes to musical discovery, sometimes the stars just align. DJ and record collector, Steve KIW, put Mr Bongo onto this amazing Chilean cover version of Jamie Principle & Frankie Knuckles' all-time classic 'Your Love'. Despite being originally released 13 years ago, it had recently started to prick the ears of house and Balearic connoisseurs in the UK, further cemented by inclusions in the Idjut Boys epic sets. Steve heard them play it, tipped us off and it soon became a favourite at Mr Bongo HQ.
By pure chance when the Mr Bongo DJs joined Luke Una to play at La Paloma ballroom in Barcelona a few weeks later, Luke dropped this incredible interpretation at the peak of his set. A good friend of his, Michelle from Huddersfield, had also put him onto the track and he instantly fell in love. A serendipitous coming together, 'Tu Amor' seemed like the perfect next instalment in the E Soul Cultura discography. The version in question was released in 2012 as part of a digital-only EP.
It came courtesy of the Chilean DJ, producer and singer Mamacita (Carolina Vallejos) and producer Sebastian Roman, aka Persona RS. Meeting Sebastian while out partying in Santiago during a boom time for electronic music in Chile, their shared passion for making house music in Spanish and their admiration for Frankie Knuckles led to the creation of this raw and unique cover version. Recorded on lo-fi equipment, including an old Windows laptop and a borrowed Neumann microphone, it nods to the DIY ethos of the early Chicago productions. The result is a stripped-back, quirky cosmic take on a stone-cold classic, full of squelching synthlines and Carolina's stunning Spanish vocals, that became a club hit on Chile's underground circuit. However, aside from some Latin American and US DJs picking it up, it never got the international recognition it deserved.
Fast forward to 2025, and E Soul Cultura is proud to present the glorious 'Tu Amor' on vinyl for the first time, backed with a new, extended, club re-edit by E Soul Cultura captain Luke Una and Luke Solomon (Classic Music). On first hearing 'Tu Amor' Luke Una recalls, There was a real charm to it, it was quite an unorthodox arrangement, a huge wonkiness and just sounded so DIY in a brilliant way. I was chatting to Luke (Solomon) about how much we loved it and we decided to re-edit it together. Accentuating the wonk of those crazy synths, we've extended it to make a fiercer underground club tool, without taking away that very charming cosmic feel.
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Non Phixion drops a re-realse n of the group’s classic debut “The Future Is Now.” Available exclusively through Fat Beats. “Utilizing beats that would do Dr. Octagon-era Dan “The Automator” proud and rhyming schemes that bring to mind early Wu-Tang Clan or mid-’90s Gang Starr, Non Phixion exposes the sound of true underground hip-hop. This is music that reflects the sound and attitude of countless rappers selling their albums out of the back of their cars or in booths on the street, cutting together dirty and disjointed sounds with a confidence and quality that is unique to this particular genre. This would all be for nothing if it wasn’t for the excellent raps from Ill Bill, Goretex, and Sabac Red, a trio of rappers who have a Tribe Called Quest-like chemistry. Their clever lyrics, respectable skills, and rough voices make this an intense and dark landmark in alternative rap.”
Demonstrating the poignant power of experience + human connection + innate musicality + operating in the present moment, Jeff Mills' Spiral Deluxe collective unveil their second album - The Love Pretender. Driven by the free expression and creativity of improvised performance, Spiral Deluxe is an electronic jazz fusion project comprised electronic music visionary Jeff, along with legendary keyboardist Gerald Mitchell (Underground Resistance/ Los Hermanos), Japanese rocker Yumiko Ohno (Buffalo Daughter/Cornelius) on Moog synthesizer and the Japanese bassist, adopted New Yorker, Kenji "Jino" Hino - son of Terumasa Hino, the world famous jazz trumpeter. Together, the four key players formed a band centred around completely improvised journeys through sound.
During their unrestrained performances, what Jeff describes as sonic "conversations" arose between the musicians, as they each contributed to full-length live shows, and studio sessions. Within the boundless parameters of freeform spontaneity, they developed an unspoken understanding of one another, finding balance and poise within the unplanned performances. The resulting recordings have been used for three releases so far: Two EPs, Kobe Session (2016) and Tathata (2017), and their debut album Voodoo Magic in 2018. With The Love Pretender, we're presented with another stunning collection of "tracks" extracted from one long improv session.
With each musician proficient in their specialism and, of course, an all-out music lover, the communication between the group members became almost telepathic. Very little preparation was needed, and their performances flowed naturally and organically. This can be heard, and felt, throughout The Love Pretender. Tracks like 'The Soloist' evolve effortlessly, each new shift subtly influenced by one of the musicians nudging the conversation into a different phase, and the rest responding accordingly, or vice versa. It's music that embodies the true nature of mindfulness and letting go of fear. In their unstructured, liberated cocoon the artists thrive and create musical moments that have, fortunately, been captured for us all to immerse ourselves in. Jazzy notes fill the air, combined with electronic bass, synthesised beats, sparkling keys and an all-round warm and welcoming atmosphere, with the slight edge you can only get from improvised performance.
Sylvain Luc's posthumous appearance on the album is of significance too. The French guitarist died in March 2024 at the age of 59. His natural flair adds another dimension to the album, bringing a touch of that laid back 1980s American California Coast feeling to tracks such as 'Society's Man'. These contributions to the LP, recorded separately, add character - a final sprinkling of humanity to complement the aliveness and presence of this body of work. Three other musicians also added their creative energy to the project. They were; TOKU, a Japanese jazz musician who specialises in wind instruments, especially the cornet, trumpet and flugel horn. And there's Masa Shimizu, who also has wide-ranging with the guitar, as well as being a producer.
Themes on the album include the optimism one can have by simply trusting the process and trusting that everything will work out in the end. By playing together in the way they do, Spiral Deluxe place their trust in the mystery of what will happen next. Getting comfortable with not knowing is key to a sense of peace with regard to the future and this energy is vital to their collective musical output. By embracing the notion of the unknown, you become an eternal optimist, living in the moment, rather than projecting into the future. This cultivates excitement, an antidote to anxiety.
Meanwhile, the title alludes to the shifts and changes that have occurred in today's society, whereby it's possible to achieve success through pretending. The superficiality, and falsehood, that can often be presented via social media, can lead to questions about what's real and what's not. From AI to the fake personas that populate the dominant platforms, The Love Pretender speaks to a process that is symbolic of the time we're living in. Behaviour that has become acceptable in today's world, which may not have been as welcomed a few decades ago. But this is part of the cycle of life...
Jeff's intention with this music is to present it in high-fidelity, to be listened to over and over and over again. In post-recording he worked for hours to ensure the audio quality was as high as it could be. The goal is to create music that people can live with their entire lives, from his solo work to these masterful improvisations. Music that comes to life, music that has a voice we can replicate with our own vocals. Expressive, unstructured, and alive...
With The Love Pretender Jeff Mills continues his mission to experiment with music outside the bounds of what is typically expected. It's freeing, enlivening, vibrant and uniquely human. As ever, Jeff's visionary outlook and bold approach to musical performance and recording has produced a body of work that epitomises his often revolutionary capabilities. There's no pretending here, just pure unadulterated sonic transmissions from a wonderfully daring, inspiring and optimistic ensemble...
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Limited vinyl release for aya's 2021 Hyperdub-debut album, a one-time pressing on Ecomix random colour-mix recycled vinyl. Originally released in 2021 as a book and digital album, im hole is now presented on ecomix splatter-effect vinyl. A welcome reminder ahead of new aya music in 2025. On im hole, aya distilled the incisive sonic experimentation of her early run of releases, the tongue-in-cheek giggles of her DJ sets and edits, and the identity-fluxing lyricism of her live shows. The album was immediately championed from all corners, 'Best New Music' in Pitchfork to DJ Mary Anne Hobbs Album of the Year, followed by incredible live shows which drew new listeners further into the net. Contorting language, dialect, gender and sexuality between intermittently controlled bursts of rhythm, noise and aural goop, aya sculpted a set of autobiographical vignettes that challenge established norms, question supposed truths, and affirm a spectrum of interlocking experiences. But while it's wide open and personal, im hole also challenges queer art's tendency to veer towards repetitive solipsism. Even the title itself references the unwieldy mix of self-actualization and sexualization that bogs down cultural perceptions of the trans experience. It's neither one thing nor t'other, just as much a sly nod to dissociative afterparty sloppiness as it is any self-congratulatory pinkwashed grandstanding. The music follows suit, fragmenting familiar sounds, twinned with familiar words, assembled in unfamiliar ways, full of sharp humour, even in the middle of despair. Stories are muddled with phonetics just as dubstep is macrodosed with microtonal drone.
j B4. If [redacted] Thinks He's Having This As A Remix He Can Frankly Do One
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