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Six drum-forward, tape-warped club constructions from the elusive Comandante engineer. Sampled 80s wreckage crushed through hardware and heavy compression: club-chug weapons + late-nite astral howling.

12″ edition of 200, individually hand-stamped and numbered. No represses.

Strange and sepulchral, Pedronium has crafted a mini-album on an astral flight, looping in and around macabre wormholes, from the strange sepulchre of opening serenade ‘4D VISION 1987’ to the deranged primal scream of ‘Nixe’ [dusk in the studio, crooning drunk on mic, disturbed sonics dragged up at the warbled gates]

‘Churms’, an unrelenting club chug banger that we’ve already heard send Lisbon’s best club systems into overdrive; ‘Finesse [The Right People]’, a teknicolor weapon hitting like a jackhammer on the concrete floor.

The grotesque charm of ‘Naked / Afraid’, the rickety jilt of ‘Snav’, all tape delay and foreboding pads, an imminent threat, a polysonic picture in a weird forgotten theatre.

The sanity of reason is already a distant dream on the late-night floor or the morning after. All tracks meticulously arranged and recorded live in one take.

Two tracks extending towards the 10 minute marker, very much in the unique style of Robert Mononom which was already being refined throughout his previous 3 EPs, now culminating in 2 excursions throughout deep hypnotic/psychedelic machine made sounds. A side is built on an aggressive triple and double beat kick drum with a very dubby "big room" presence upon which waves of other nuances in noise get overlayed slowly transforming the 165+ BPM experience throughout what sounds like an extended live mix. B side goes in more spacial/atmospheric direction where hi hats take control over the kick, capturing the witness in a whirlwind of dubbed out overlaying rhythmic patterns. A sound so raw and pure in its introspection, clearly showing Robert's capacity of developing an aesthetic of his own.

Poem by Alea Coble (February 2026) - Written for Andrew Weathers, Chattonooga Recording Project

Listen to my story and everything will come out true. - Bessie Smith

35° 02' 44.27" N -85° 18' 34.85" W:

Howl. Hammer strikes firing pin. Its echo ricochets over river bend. The woodpecker’s syncopated pop-pop-pop clink and thwap in time with cops practicing prayer at the firing range.

Quick. Sketch a few constellations onto a postcard: empty shotgun shells, these pre-forgotten fossils snaking rusted railroad spikes, like snagged rosary, fallen poplar petals draped over cerulean glass ashtray scattered along glittering fractures, ignored like a treaty. Train tracks reverberate necrophilic boomerang-hunger for mountain air without that coal dust. Eat. Eat. Everything is real estate. Even the air is for sale. Buy it cheap while I.C.E. carves through the valley along the Trail of Tears in unmarked SUVs, traffic stops.

Howl. Callback to estranged entanglements oscillating over holler and highway. Meet on the porch. Haint-blue ceiling. Some ghosts can’t get through anyway. They got tied up on the Walnut Street Bridge by a mob of white spit. Howl. The South should scare you.

But the woodpecker is still nesting, hungry, typing uncannied punctuation marks into black oak: a deed. Home? Takes a side-eyed knowing to call by name. The moon sickles in a sweating glass of iced tea.

Speculation cycle: symmetry as ancient as sour-dank betrayal of the tongue, bitter bones binding blood and lead, alchemical forgetting like I found a hairbrush in the yard while planting wild irises, like someone is charging $10 for an old glass Coke bottle, like semicolons itching restless under new sod from no-one-knows-where. Howl. Sing back. History is soil-in-stereo.

How will this line end? Like riverbank? Like atlatl arching hope smash-through a stained glass window? Words fall out of the sky, and 30 American flags snap at attention on the bridge. Howl. A shift in the wind gallops through the streets tossing her head back, laughing.

Tennessee River, who once kissed Pangea, how she softens at the knuckle-suck of it all, that secret-sweet stowed in the feathers of sandhill cranes lifting up on warm summer breeze: slow-shooting stars bending toward unbothered brevitas.

Howl. The red wolf knows her truest kin is always her shadow’s shadow.

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

Over the course of more than four decades, Andrew Chalk has created one of ambient and experimental music's most distinctive, influential, and enduring bodies of work. Though his recordings have taken many forms—from the raw, post-Industrial sounds of Ferial Confine in the 1980s to the fragile guitar meditations, blurred keyboard studies, and richly textured collages that populate the Faraway Press catalogue—they remain united by a singular sensibility: an uncommon attentiveness to atmosphere, nostalgia, and the power of restraint.

Mystical Obscurant offers a rare opportunity to encounter the expansive character of that oeuvre in miniature. Rather than documenting a single period or methodology, it functions almost like a survey of Chalk's musical language—a collection of new music that illuminates the breadth of his practice while distilling the singular vision that unites it.

“The Sea of Sorrow” and “Peacemaker” feel cut from the same cloth as the sacred guitar minimalism of The River That Flows Into the Sands, while “Against the Tide” would sit naturally alongside the smudged and distant keys of Blue Eyes of the March. Other pieces draw upon environmental sound and loop-based constructions, hallmarks of Chalk's more recent, vignette-like compositions. Though these recordings emerge from different moments in his long creative journey, each inhabits a recognizable world: one where melodies drift in diffuse, unhurried forms and sound gathers with painterly grace.

What is most striking when these pieces are heard together is not their difference but their coherence. Across changing instruments, collaborators, and approaches, Chalk has consistently pursued a subjunctive music of suggestion rather than declaration, creating spaces where memory and imagination are allowed to unfold at their own pace.

Long Slow Distance is an album about finding peace, and making peace where it can’t be found. It’s inspired by change, grief, acceptance, forgiveness, love, and running.

Dawson began running around the same time he started making records. At this point it’s unclear where one practice ends and the other begins. The album’s title has become the ethos he’s embraced for all things in life.

Long Slow Dance unravels the woven collage of his previous work. Here each song consists of three long guitar takes, panned across the stereo-field with minimal overdubs. “I remember my grandmother always kept a rain barrel on the farm. Just a simple vessel that served as a means for gathering water for the garden and the flowers. I wanted to instill that sentiment on this record. Other than some panning and recreational EQing, the computer was just a vessel to gather sounds.”

There is a distant grace to the album. A soft expanse, a quiet contrast. Guitars dissolve and then recalibrate. Sparse melodic motifs bloom and fracture. Warm chords clash and make amends. Alpenglow textures shimmer against tones that feel weathered by salt air. The songs are lightly propulsive, yet drift at a glacial pace. Fields and artifacts ground the material, like keeping your eyes on the horizon. Long Slow Distance feels intuitive, sentimental, and like Dawson is one step closer to whatever distance he is chasing.
Downloadable Assets

ELEPHANT is an album that doesn’t ask for space, it takes it.
Built on weight, grit, and undeniable presence, ELEPHANT moves like its namesake: loud, heavy, and impossible to ignore. There’s a swagger to it, a confidence that leans into chaos, desire, and the pull of living all the way, even when it leaves a mark.
But like an elephant, it’s not all brute force. Beneath the heavy stomp is something more human. There are moments of vulnerability, cracks where emotion slips through, where longing, doubt, and reflection take over. The album balances power with sensitivity, and strength with softness. A notion that even the biggest presence can feel deeply.

Like the massive creature pushing through brush and unbroken paths, ELEPHANT is about confronting what’s right in front of you; the noise, the weight, the truth, and choosing to move through it anyway.

raum…musik welcomes Jaffa Surfa back for its 121st release with ‘Tribal Diesel EP’, a four-tracker moving through progressive techno, industrial-tinged minimal, house and broken beat. Rather than treating these as fixed genres, Surfa reshapes them into something uncanny and unmistakably tribal, while keeping the groove firmly at the centre.

That approach is clearest on the A-side. “Diggers Diesel” has a ritual pull and, as the EP’s title suggests, finds Jaffa Surfa at his most tribal. Processed drums and splintered voices gradually lock into a hook while murky synths shift beneath them. “Lidl Sin” takes a leaner, slightly industrial but definitely understated route. Its reduced arrangement leaves enough room for each detail to register, with drums, synth stabs and sequenced lines appearing to exist in a state of constant mutation. On the b-side, “NGLZ” is the EP’s most direct house cut, driven by heavy low end, syncopated rhythms and flashes of phased samples. Breakbeat accents and old-school vocal fragments nod towards US house, though the track’s restless movement keeps it from settling into anything conventional. “Upstarz Galeri” closes on a wider screen, carrying traces of krautrock and decades-old sci-fi and cyberpunk soundtracks without ever feeling nostalgic. Airy and expansive, it pairs breakbeats and growling basslines with densely layered samples, giving its machine funk an unexpectedly emotional charge.

'Tribal Diesel EP' never overstates the contrast between its parts. Jaffa Surfa holds everything together through texture, rhythm and an almost cybernetic atmosphere. It is clearly built for the club, but carries enough personality and ambiguity to reward closer listening.

LP includes double-sided print insert. Thorn Wych makes instruments from tree branches; bowed strings, flutes and percussion that she runs through a chain of loopers, pitch bending glitches and delay pedals. Strange songs sung in tongues, mashed up chewed and spat out. As the adder weaves her way through the dirt and mycelium hum, we play in the mud and converse with insects. 'Aesthesis' is Thorn Wych's debut LP that she recorded and mixed herself at home, often performing long improvised pieces, then later editing them down, cutting and pasting and overlaying other instruments. This album takes inspiration from such works as 'The Secret Book of John', the 1940 film 'The Thief of Bagdad', and Lata Mangeshkar's 'Meera Bhajans'. She dedicates her work to the Divine Mother Asherah, Holy Spirit, Guardian of the Tree of Life.

Acid Pauli returns to the curious world of Gwar Is Not The Answer (originally released 2006 on Smaul) with a carefully remastered re-release that includes two new remixes from Jonathan Kaspar and Acid Pauli. The title track unfolds at an unhurried pace, weaving loose acid traces through warm percussion and off-centre melodic fragments that seem to appear and dissolve before settling into place. It drifts forward with a quiet sense of momentum, balancing eccentric textures with a groove that remains firmly grounded throughout. With his new remix Jonathan Kaspar takes the original into leaner territory, sharpening its contours and drawing out its tension while preserving the peculiar character at its core. His remix stretches the track into a more focused club framework where rolling low-end pressure meets finely tuned rhythmic movement, allowing small details to carry unexpected weight. On the flip Acid Pauli revisits the track from a different angle. The remix opens up the source material into a spacious and fluid arrangement where shimmering tones circle around a deep pulse and subtle harmonic shifts gradually reveal themselves over time. Together the three versions explore different dimensions of the same musical language, moving between psychedelic house, understated dancefloor functionality and the kind of idiosyncratic storytelling that has long defined Acid Pauli's work.

Bristol's Ben Pest returns to Co-Accused Records with four drops of full-pelt electro and techno on Lacquer of Empathy EP. A respected live artist and producer known for his production nouse, he’s taken his sound to Co-Accused’s Glasgow parties, Tresor and Glastonbury and released across respected imprints that include Mechatronica, Cultivated Electronics, I Love Acid and more. This release is exactly what he’s become known for turning out: rave-touched and highly effective dancefloor material.

The EP opens with 'D-Transfer', a pacey piece of machine funk which leads into ‘Mam Assid’ which right off the bat is an intensive, driving acid techno number. Over on the B Side, ‘Shruthi EB’ is a twisted machine workout, building and rebuilding through distorted synths before locking into a relentless groove. After being self-released on digital format on his own label The Glutch now gets a vinyl pressing on this EP riffing off a mechanical melody over an air-tight beat. To close out the EP is a digital bonus track with a ‘Rolling Edit’ of Shruthi EB.

Some records arrive with a clear purpose.

Others take years to reveal why they belong together.

PLNK008 is the first solo release by Natural Goofy on Planka Records. Following a series of appearances across various labels and collaborations, this record offers a deeper look into the sound he has been quietly shaping over the years.

A collection of recordings gathered over time, connected less by genre than by a shared sense of mood and movement.

Rather than chasing functionality, the record follows instinct. Loops are allowed to breathe. Details appear slowly. Tension builds almost unnoticed. Elements drift in and out of focus. The intention was never to arrive somewhere quickly, but to stay inside a feeling for as long as it remains interesting.

The release also includes a special reinterpretation of one of the EP's tracks by dear friend and talented Italian producer Shkedul.

The original version of the track will be available exclusively as a digital bonus on Planka's Bandcamp.

These tracks were not designed to demand attention. They reward it.

For those willing to spend time with them.

Limited edition. Vinyl only.

“Ruins are the style of our future cities, future cities are themselves ruins.” - Izosaki Arata

A note from Lawrence English: Nostalgia is not an ideology, though in this moment, we could be mistaken for thinking it might be just that. Over the past years, the idea of nostalgia has been filtered through various political and technological lenses and has become a tool used for forgetting, rather than remembering. Instead of embracing histories’ complexities and inconsistencies, this version of nostalgia seeks only singular recollection. This contemporary phenomenon of nostalgia has become a methodology at best, and a weapon at worst, used to erode the past and project forward a collapsed and unimaginably sanitised version of things, places, and ways of being from former times. It’s this projection that sees it playing a mounting role in a social pathology associated with reducing the imagined possibilities of future.

The Rest Is My Ghost is a record that interrogates the manifestations of this reductive futuring and celebrates those that have tried (and failed), and those who continue to push back against decayed and revisionist positions. It’s a record that considers the weaponisation of nostalgia for the purposes of cloaking possible futures.

In recent times, I’ve proposed a term for this weaponised use of nostalgia, something I have called Acid Nostalgia. I offer it as a shorthand to describe the de-contouring of the future through a corrosive fixation on a flatten rendering of the preceding times. It is, in part, a certain type of lazy cultural scripting where tropes of the past are presented in the absolute, as empty pictorials; photocopies without any original from which to draw actual meaning, or useful detail.

Acid Nostalgia describes an increasingly common political projection of nostalgia that exists without any subjective connection to the memory surrounding and contained within it. Like acid poured onto a surface, this use of nostalgia seeks to erodes and smooth out the complexity and texture of lived connection and longing, which has until recently guided contemplations of nostalgia. Acid Nostalgia instead erases the texture of histories and de-contours the past, and in doing so dematerialises the horizon of possibility, which by its very nature marks the beginning point for any (and all) imaginable futures. Acid Nostalgia is a dreamless screen, where uncertainty, restlessness and aspiration are subjected to corrosion, breaking down and neutralising the wellspring of futures which are birthed from within the ambiguously charged, complex and at times chaotic atmospheres of the present.

The Rest Is My Ghost is not however some universal reading of these things and happenings. Rather it draws its breath from a very personal pathway carved through my own fraught experiences of nostalgia and framed through a disparate collage of chance encounters, situations, places and provocations. It takes oblique notes from civic and architectural references such as Japan’s Metabolist movement, Hong Kong’s ‘one line sky’ and Los Angeles’s vanished Sodium Vapour lights. It interpolates texts – factual and fictional – by authors such as Franco Berardi, Kate Crawford, JG Ballard, Katsuhiro Otomo, Mark Fisher and Alexei Yurchak who have each so wonderfully sought to rupture the familiarity of now, and push us towards other ways of imaging ourselves, our surroundings and our very ways of being in this world.

I also owe a debt of thanks to Adam Curtis in helping launch what has become this edition. It was his provocation, in a conversation we shared about an overwhelming and profound sense of uncertainty around being able to predict the immediate future and how to respond to that, which sparked the earliest inklings of this edition.

The Rest Is My Ghost is ultimately a record about the promise of constructions and connections to come, material, social and political. It's a record that accepts the fragility of failure as a source of ultimate potential, and a position from which the deepest freedom of imagination might be sought and summoned forth to conjure even the most unimaginable, (but) possible futures.

What is Buck? Buck is a state of mind, a way of life, a demeanor that gets you through the good times and the bad. If you ask Brainstory, It is also the energy that permeates their debut album. Kevin, Tony, and Eric are a trio of brothers bounded by blood, fate, and a small town with nothing to do. Their story begins in the long lost lands of the San Bernardino Valley, in the twilight zone known as Rialto, California: An arid wasteland of boredom and empty lots. Through punk rock and skateboarding they found temporary liberation from the local monotony. However, it wouldn't be long before a hunger for more led them to explore musical realms beyond that of the hardcore punk they admired. After stints at music school and steady disappointment trying to navigate their local jazz scene they moved to Los Angeles and Brainstory was born. Through a introduction from Chicano Batman's bassist, Brainstory caught the ears of Big Crown head honchos Danny Akalepse and Leon Michels. Shortly thereafter they were on their way to Queens, to record at The Legendary Diamond Mine with Michels at the helm. An instant chemistry yielded 10 songs in 10 days and now Brainstory has gifted the world with one hell of an introduction to all things Buck. Highlights include the sublime slow burner, "Dead End" which was the A-side to their first 45 on Big Crown that sold out in a matter of days. With Kevin's sublime falsetto floating atop Tony and Eric's unflappable and unmistakable backbeat, this tune has become a favorite with the ballad heads, the low-riders, and the slowie collectors. "Breathe" showcases another side of their sound taking a page out of the Shuggie Otis playbook and flipping the script with some stoned out west coast swag. Kev and Tony's father, Big Tone, an accomplished performer himself, steps in on "Peter Pan" to sing lead vocals over a chorus of friends and family. Bassist extraordinaire, Tony, takes over lead vocal duties on "Sorry", a smoked out, G Funk groove that is just waiting to be sampled. These guys have come a long way from their self released EPs and opening tours with Chicano Batman. Their musical growth is undeniable, and taking their California sunshine vibes and mixing them with Michels' NYC aesthetic has proven to be an amazing combination. It's a debut record that pulls influences from so many genres seamlessly it's hard to nail down. Call it Funk, call it Rock, call it Soul, but over here at Big Crown HQ, we've decided to call it BUCK.

American experimental composer Stephen O’Malley releases Avaeken, two sides of immense, immersive, self-annihilating music via Dais Records.

The record preserves site-specific work: O’Malley installed Avaeken as part of Wish You Were Here, the exhibition by renowned American artist Banks Violette, underscoring the tension between presence and absence, life and loss.

O’Malley and Violette have developed a distinct language of sound, space, and sculpture over the past two decades, reverberating through the walls of world-class institutions from The Guggenheim and Centre Pompidou to prominent galleries such as Maureen Paley in London, Gladstone Gallery in NYC, and Antwerp’s TICK TACK, the brutalist space where Wish You Were Here unfolded in early 2026.

Emerging now as an LP, Avaeken presents power and phenomena: low-frequency vibrations, deep oscillations, and phase cancellations that translate as innately effective in any environment. Violette’s visual expression — the impossibility of locating yourself within the loss of a friend and the broader decay of culture — now fills the LP sleeve and feels inextricable from O’Malley’s sound, both still without resolution.

“Natural harmonic tone coloured by the valves of the amplification is the one desired characteristic,” reads the initial notes.

“At first I asked, why would I write for another guitar player?” he says. “I realized how amazing it is to be a listener on the other side of the music; together we were able to try all these precisions with intonation, harmonics, specific microtonal ideas.”

The quartet performed Avaeken several times before O’Malley joined them for a recording session at Muziekcentrum De Bijloke, a 13th-century former hospital with modern acoustics in Ghent.

LIMITED THIRD PRESS. 300 ONLY CLEAR VINYL WITH RED BLOOD SPLATTER, HOUSED IN A RED AND METALLIC SILVER SLEEVE.

The Swedish underground legends return with a brand new album. Let this reddit user take over …
“Listening to Brainbombs has been one of my weirdest experiences with music. Brainbombs are most definitely a band. I guess at the core they’re a hardcore punk/noise rock hybrid I guess? But… It's so unlike anything I’ve ever heard and I still don’t know if it's good or bad. I saw the edgelord Ed Gein album cover, and it intrigued me, so I listened to their biggest song and it was easily THE WORST thing I had EVER FUCKING HEARD. I shut it off as soon as it got to the vocals. I was shocked by the fact that it had almost a half million streams. But, a few hours later, I clicked on it again and didn’t know why.
Over the past few days, I’ve listened to all of their discography and looped a lot of it. And I don’t even think I like them. The music is abysmal, it's the same single riff and verse repeating for 5 minutes. To make it worse, the vocals are just a guy with a swedish accent awkwardly talking about murder and rape. That sounds awful right? It is awful. But at the same time I want to keep listening? It’s so childishly edgy and obnoxiously repetitive but so.. intriguing? Catchy? I’m not even sure. It's one of if not the weirdest experience I’ve ever had with music and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Big Crown Records is proud to present the debut full length offering from Les Imprimés, Rêverie. The stirring and ethereal sounds of Les Imprimés have been making fans of anyone who hears them since their first 7" single hit the speakers. Morten Martens is the man behind the band. Born, raised, and working in Kristiansand, Norway, he keeps a low prole while making his heart felt, highly infectious, and unique music. This album is a long time coming for Martens and it is sure to make him a name to be reckoned with. The first thing you notice listening to Les Imprimés is the high level of musician-ship. Martens plays nearly every instrument on the recordings and handles the production and arranging. He has been making records for decades, winning a Spellemann Award (aka, the Norwegian Grammy) in 2006 for producing a HipHop album as well as getting nominations across three other genres. While awards and accolades speak to the level of his talent, this new album really shows who he is an artist on his own terms. Moving away from being a hired gun on the touring scene naturally led him to start doing more studio work. Slowly collecting gear and getting more experi-ence behind the boards he built his own studio on the island of Odderoya and was making a living playing with and recording other people's music. As the story goes, after those sessions would end he would work on his own project into the wee hours of the night. From these late night sessions, Les Imprimés was born and Rêverie began to take shape. However, "it wasn't until COVID, when things locked down, that I was really able to nd the time to focus on Les Imprimés" Morten says about creating and leading his own solo project. "It was a scary time. But I knew I had to do something with it." He took the sum of his inuences, combined them with his own vibe and got busy writing the music, playing the instruments, and singing the songs. "It's soul music, but I don't exactly have the soul voice," Morten explains humbly. "But I do it my own way, in a way that's mine. "It is his sound, his fingerprint, his sensibility, that makes his music hard to put in a box. The album showcases both Martens' range and his ability to make a cohesive album. The lead single "Falling Away" starts with a raw drum break and turns into a lushly arranged tune that paints the picture of love when it slips away. On "Still Here" he professes his resilience through life's twists and turns over a thundering track that puts a new spin on the B side ballad genre. Songs like "You" and "Our Love" mix tones from 60s and 70s Soul with arrangement nods to Doo Wop records while Martens' lyrics and delivery leave you singing the melodies long after they finish. "Love & Flowers" finds Martens in a moment of clarity with a song that ts the niche sub genre of happy break up tunes, the four on the floor track will move the dancefloor or while the message will resonate with anyone who put too much effort into the wrong situation in their lives. However, it is songs like "Muse" and "Chess" that really encapsulate the uniqueness of Les Imprimés as they push the boundaries of genre, one a profession of love for music and the other a cover of an electronic record respectively. Martens' lyrics, emotion, and delivery truly make the whole thing come together and stand out from any of his peers. There's an infectiousness and a pop sensibility in the writing that is done with the utmost class and taste giving Les Imprimés the rare quality of immediate attraction that only deepens the more you listen.

Some people change your life in every way that a life can be changed. David Lynch is one of those people. When Alicia Witt first worked with him at age 7 in his classic Dune (1984) she had no idea what he meant to anyone as a filmmaker, nor that she would work with him 3 more times over the course of his life and that he would become one of her greatest influences. She only knew that she had found a kindred spirit and that she loved him. Between Heaven & Earth is a tribute to his energy, his legacy, and most of all, his love. When Alicia attended his memorial gathering shortly after his passing in 2025, she was struck by the depth of the relationships in that space. The knowing that if you were loved by David, you stayed loved. As those in the room spoke of their shared experience that David was still among them - directing from beyond - Alicia became ever more aware that she was being encouraged to create an album from this space of eternal unconditional love. ‘Use my name,’ David whispered. And so it was. Produced by renowned producer and singer-songwriter Joe Henry (Emmylou Harris; Milk Carton Kids; Bonnie Raitt; Rodney Crowell), this album was recorded live in studio in 5 days in New York City in January 2026. Alicia Witt on piano and vocals, accompanied by a band of 5 musicians, take you on a sonic journey that could never be recreated, channeling the energy that was brought together in this moment to honor the immeasurable effect that David Lynch had and still has on the world. He was palpably present in every moment of the making of this album. The 13 songs that were chosen reflect everything Alicia feels she learned about love from David - the acceptance, the insistent optimism, the curiosity, and the permanence. The final song, The Director, recounts messages he has sent to her from beyond over the year since he passed away.

Broshuda returns on the newly born label Ballads Infinite with another array of absurdist vignettes, lowercase hi-tech ambience and textural degradations of radio transmissions from the bicameral mind. Weaving multiple sonic timelines into silky yet slippery articulations, he sculpts each sound with deliberate care making it breathe, slither and shimmer. Spells conjures a subterranean force through its vanishing presence, with the restraint in the sonic palette feeling utterly refreshing, as watering, drop by drop, a ghostly flower in the dromoscopic netscape of overreaching stimuli.

Deliriously patching fragments of unnoticed memories, gliding freely— slightly inebriated—through the ocean of sound: what does it take to capture the transitory entities inhabiting the latent space of this hyperconnected manifold? An assemblage of mechanical debris reduced to their bare-bone essentials; the Tao of discharge brings life to corrupted data, unpacked through textural ruminations.

Broshuda doesn’t just cast the spell, he patiently coils it around you, dissolving each and every thought in the hiss, manipulating subtle energies by making them move beyond and outward. What’s the sound of matter silently falling apart? The serpent sheds its subtle yet solid armor, revealing the space between each spire blooming with gentle eruptions of broken melodies. Where do we land now? What are we turning into? An ontological enigma still awaits to be solved.

Mastered by: Inner Lakes @ Tapewave Studio

God Bless The Band is released on 28th August 2026. God Bless The Band celebrates an incredible two decades of Courteeners, featuring tracks from their seven studio albums - St. Jude (2008), Falcon (2010), Anna (2013), Concrete Love (2014), Mapping the Rendezvous (2016), More. Again. Forever. (2020) and Pink Cactus Cafe (2024) - along with two brand new tracks ‘The Luckiest Man Alive’ and ‘Plus One Forever’ produced by Liam Fray and James Skelly. Formats include heavyweight black 2LP and CD plus retail exclusive Crystal Clear 2LP.

Few bands have defined the sound of American melodic rock quite like Night Ranger. From the thunderous riffs of “Don’t Tell Me You Love Me” to the soaring anthem of “Sister Christian,” this new Best Of collection captures the very essence of their decades-long career — now reimagined for 2026. Featuring the classic hits alongside fan favorites and standout tracks from their most recent albums, this compilation spans the full spectrum of Night Ranger’s signature sound: anthemic choruses, blazing guitar solos, and unforgettable melodies. Highlights include the power-pop perfection of “(You Can Still) Rock in America,” the heartfelt balladry of “When You Close Your Eyes,” and the cinematic sweep of “Four in the Morning.” But “Best of the last 20 years… and Some Hits” is not just a look back. It also celebrates the band’s creative output over the last 20 years, spotlighting tracks like “Time of Our Lives,” “High Road,” “No Time to Lose,” “Somehow Someway,” and “Truth,” proving that Night Ranger’s energy, songwriting, and musicianship have only grown stronger with time. These songs show that the band continues to innovate while staying true to the melodic rock roots that made them legendary.

The current lineup — Jack Blades (bass and vocals), Kelly Keagy (drums and vocals), Brad Gillis (guitars), Eric Levy (keyboards), and Keri Kelli (guitars) — delivers every track with the energy and precision that have kept Night Ranger at the forefront of rock for more than four decades. This edition also features two bonus tracks that make this compilation truly special: a fresh studio take on “Wasted Time” recorded at Sweetwater Studios, accompanied by an exclusive music video, and a festive live performance of “Feliz Navidad” that showcases the band’s playful side. Perfectly timed ahead of their summer 2026 tour, this Best Of serves as both a definitive introduction for new fans and a must-have collection for longtime followers. Whether revisiting the classics or discovering the new 2026 renditions and recent masterpieces, Night Ranger – Best of the last 20 years… and Some Hits is a celebration of enduring melodies, electrifying performances, and the unforgettable spirit of one of rock’s most iconic bands.

For years, singer-songwriter Riley Downing has collected stories about life’s overlooked moments and underappreciated people. He’s unearthed these tales of castaway truths and once-faded recollections for Landfill Poetry, a sophomore solo album and Oh Boy Records debut.??A native of small-town Missouri who once worked as a backroad trashman before becoming one of music’s weathered journeymen, the husky-voiced Downing may be best known as a member of noisemaking Americana outfit The Deslondes, a New Orleans-born band that he co-founded after a clandestine meeting with likeminded musicians at a folk festival in Oklahoma.??On Landfill Poetry, his six-string worldbuilding takes listeners to the back of the trash truck (“Landfill Poetry”), inside the lonely hours of the graveyard paycheck (“Night Shift”) and to the quiet moments after a hard day of work (“Porch Song”). He sings for the restless ones who stay up way too late (“Hay Hay Hay”) and the grandchildren who admire a hard-working compassion once shared between late loved ones (“Helen & Gene”). With each song, Downing uncovers sketches of life that once might’ve been lost to the landfill but instead?are shared anew.

A ferocious beat struck out by Takeo Moriyama, a treasure of the Japanese jazz world and one of its most powerful drummers.

This important work, recorded in April 1994 and serving as the catalyst for Takeo Moriyama’s revival, is being released on analog for the first time.

Together with a rock-solid lineup of players including Fumio Itabashi (P), Yoshihiko Inoue (S.Sax & T.Sax), Eiichi Hayashi (A.Sax), and Hiroshi Yoshino (B), Moriyama delivers an overwhelming performance that condenses the entire universe of his fighting spirit into what became “Moriyama’s body.”



The original liner notes by Kazutomi Aoki from the album’s first release in 1994 are also reprinted for this LP edition.

¡Hola amigos! ¡Dieciséis guarniciones de chile picante, peyote loco y tequila helado! ¡Hermoso!
If there's one thing I'm good at it's finding records. It doesn't matter where in the world I am, I find records, the best records, the rarest records. And always in Mint condition. I have a knack for it. One place I like to hunt for records is South of the Border, in Mexico. You can find great records there, way out in those pequeños pueblos del desierto. Another great thing you can find is cactus.
Mexico is famous for cactus. You got your Ariocarpus, your Turbinicarpus, your Mammillaria. You got cactus of all kinds, big and small. Little ones like Eplithelantha, psychedelic ones like the peyote Lophophora, and rare ones like Aztekium. But my favourite is Mammillaria humboldtii. Now this one is very hard to find. The villagers over in Hidalgo know where it is, and they go high up in the mountains to look for it.

Now these guys, they take their time. But when they come down from those mountains, they bring back the most beautiful specimens. I really mean it, they're beautiful. They're like clumps of fluffy white golf balls, and they have these cute little pink flowers. Beautiful I tell ya. I pay precio alto for a good specimen of Mammillaria humboldtii.

One original mix, never before released on vinyl, alongside three brand new remixes from Claptrap Allstars.

Francisco D’Argento may not have been a pioneer of the Italo Disco movement that emerged in the late 1970s and early 1980s, but his sun-soaked, refined approach captured the spirit of the era with unmistakable charm.

While D’Argento received critical attention from local press and music journals, his work unfortunately never connected with a wider audience. In later years, his output gradually slowed, and his early recordings slipped into obscurity.

With the support of the D’Argento estate, this forgotten gem has been lovingly restored and remastered from the original ½-inch tape, bringing new life to an overlooked piece of Italian electronic music history.

This release presents the original version, an uptempo, high nrg direct italo cut featuring D’Argento’s own vocals, alongside the voice of his second wife, actress and model Eleanora D’Argento.

Donald Dust delivers a powerful and thumping rework for the A2 the “Squish Mix”, a stretched-out, dubbed-out interpretation built for those late-night, hot and heavy dancefloors.

Dr Valentine takes things into the cosmos with the “Nello Spazio Mix”, slowing the tempo and drifting into hypnotic space.

Closing out the EP, Vanity Project presents a darker Robotalo Remix, stripping away the original’s outer layer and revealing a shadowy, dark-disco driven version.

Buon ascolto!

Ken Christensen (ECB) brings his long running Love Athletic project to the label on side A, joining forces with Sean McNulty to deliver an enticing blend of rolling, locked-in beats, soulful vocals, restless cowbells and psychedelic TB-303 acid lines. Jobu (Freaky Behavior) remixes, wrapping warming synth motifs and echoing vocal snippets around a deep tech-house groove. Over on side B, Dan Laino takes over with 'Under the Lights', a chunky and bumpy slab of lightly garage-influenced deepness. This in turn is reworked by Cory Wells, who opts for a more hypnotic and locked-in vibe.

I Bet on Sky is the third Dinosaur Jr. album since the original trio – J Mascis, Lou Barlow and Murph – reformed in 2005. And, crazily, it marks the band’s 10th studio album since their debut on Homestead Records in 1985. Back in the ‘80s, if anyone has suggested that these guys would be performing and recording at such a high level 27 years later, they would have been laughed out of the tree fort.

The trio has taken everything they’ve learned from the various projects they tackled over the years, and poured it directly into their current mix. J’s guitar approaches some of its most unhinged playing here, but there’s a sense of instrumental control that matches the sweet murk of his vocals (not that he always remembers to exercise control on stage, but that’s another milieu). This is head-bobbing riff-romance at the apex. Lou’s basswork shows a lot more melodicism now as well, although his two songs on I Bet on Sky retain the jagged rhythmic edge that has so often marked his work. And Murph…well, he still pounds the drums as hard and as strong as a pro wrestler, with deceptively simple structures that manage to interweave themselves perfectly with his bandmates’ melodic explosions.


After submerging myself in I Bet on Sky, it’s clear that the album is a true and worthy addition to the Dinosaur Jr. discography. It hews close enough to rock formalism to please the squares. Yet it is brilliantly imprinted with the trio’s magical equation, which is a gift to the rest of us. For a combo that began as anomalous fusion of hardcore punk and pop influences, Dinosaur Jr. have proven themselves to be unlikely masters of the long game.

Through a collaboration with Cincy label Chiefdom Records comes a fresh 45 on Colemine from Doctor Bionic. Both cuts from this 45 feel Colemine-core: funky, dirty drums, jazz keys and guitar, and a groove that just won't quit. Put "Expert Witness" on during your next DJ set and watch the floor fill up. Ohio's take on much of the funky west coast jazzy funk over the last couple of decades. Doctor Bionic is nothing short of prolific, having released over 10 albums in the last five years. Keep your eyes on this up and comer on the scene. And don't forget to flip it over for the nightcap. "Mistake" is a mellow guitar driven tune to close out the night in a melancholy way. Sparkling Rhodes, sparse guitar, and driving drums are the order of the day.

Bad Brains is the self-titled debut studio album recorded by American hardcore punk/reggae band Bad Brains. Recorded in 1981 and released on (then) cassette-only label ROIR on February 5, 1982, many fans refer to it as "The Yellow Tape" because of it's yellow packaging. Though Bad Brains had recorded the 16 song Black Dots album in 1979 and the 5-song Omega Sessions EP in 1980, the ROIR cassette was the band's first release of anything longer than a single. The release includes the original liner notes by Ira Kaplan of Yo La Tengo. This reissue marks the second release in the remaster campaign on the band's own Bad Brains Records imprint with Org Music. In coordination with the band, Org Music has overseen the restoration and remastering of the iconic Bad Brains' recordings. The audio was mastered by Dave Gardner at Infrasonic Mastering.

Collaborations have always been an aspect of music I enjoy a lot, it can bring out the best in both artists when done well. It's a privilege to return the favour for one of the most exciting producers around in my opinion and to put out some of our music on my label after I released 'Reflections' on his excellent Temple of Sound back in 2019.

Tom and I came up through similar circles of music, inevitably connecting. We started to chat online and send ideas back and forth, immediately finding a shared enthusiasm for production and music in general. With a similar ethos of DIY and letting the music speak for itself, this EP was formed from the track 20-25 aptly named due to the stems being bounced back in 2020 but it eventually came together in 2025. We exchanged a few ideas and quickly realized we had a pretty strong EP in the works combining the best of both our sounds.

The EP consists of 4 hypnotic & rolling bass music tracks around 130 BPM merging influences from broken & deep Techno styles, Breakbeat & House. Perfect for deep listening or wiggling air in the club.

20-25 is a crunchy broken beat roller with lush pad work, stabs and slinky grooves before dubbed out bongos crank the energy up a notch and solidify the groove. 5 years in the making, but definitely worth the wait!

Strings on the A2 leans heavier into repetition and hypnotic grooves with slinky synthetic percussion and cavernous atmospherics. The track gradually evolves with elements filtering in and out whilst the groove anchors the track before the breakbeat science and pitchy bass comes into play. It's low and slow, building the tension before weaving in the full power of the track with haunting dissonance and dark melodics.

The title track takes the EP in another direction with it's delicate melodies and vocal, ushering in thunderous kicks. Around 2 mins in, the full weight of the track is noticeable with the low sub bass and modulating percussion. The track slowly morphs into an insatiable groove with peaks and troughs before a full send on the 2nd drop with additional percussion, intensifying the energy and taking the track into more dancefloor territory.

Finally we have Depth Charge on the B2, eyes down, dubby with a wonkified groove. This one is a slow burner, coming in at over 8 mins long. The rhythmic prowess is on full display with counter balanced rhythms, an interesting bassline and dubby pads and stabs. The track has a noticeable energy shift around 3.30 with a key change, and the slow meshing of subtle elements culminate in an easeless hypnotism where 8 mins feels like a lot less, a perfect closer.

We hope you enjoy, keep it deep!

“If there is one thing you can always count on with Alex Lahey, it’s that the Melbourne-born indie singer-songwriter is going to provide fans with a hell of a good time.” – Billboard

Impressed Recordings is proud to present a world exclusive variant of Alex Lahey's original EP, 'B-Grade University'. In addition to the original EP, this repress includes brand new re-recordings of “You Don’t Think You Like People Like Me” and “Let’s Go Out,” alternate versions of “Wes Anderson” and “Let’s Go Out” taken from Lahey’s 2020 Between the Kitchen and the Living Room EP, plus a version of “You Don’t Think You Like People Like Me” recorded in 2017 live in-studio at triple j in Australia for their Like A Version series.

"I vividly remember writing this collection of songs in my childhood bedroom at my mum’s house next to a small window where I could catch glimpses of the ever expanding edges of the Melbourne city landscape in the years I lived there. I sold my trusty blue Toyota Corolla (aka the Corolls Royce) and gathered every single dollar I could from random day jobs to pay for studio time and will the project into existence.""

"I am not exaggerating when I say this EP completely changed my life. These songs found their place in the world in a way I could have never fathomed and have forged a life of their own over the last decade. They’ve taken me to corners of the world I could only have dreamed of seeing, let alone playing music in, given me the privilege of meeting so many people who have found their own stories in the songs and they have enabled me to keep making the next thing. I feel indebted to all of these songs and treat them with extra care and love whenever I play them live."

Phosphor returns with its fifth release and a new chapter for the label’s founders, Blue Vision. As their second EP on the imprint, Machines Will Transform Us (PHP005) confirms the project’s direction: a precise balance between club-driven tech house and more immersive, hypnotic electro textures.

Across the EP, Blue Vision asks a simple question: after spending our days connected to algorithms and modern machines, can repetitive rhythms and mechanical grooves on the dancefloor turn us into machines once again, or instead help us reconnect with ourselves?

Machines Will Transform Us (A1) opens the EP with a driving Italo bassline and tight, tech-driven drums. Melodic 80s synths contrast with sharper electro elements, gradually building tension before a final drop designed for peak-time impact. The track sets the tone for the release: machines transform us as much as we transform them.

Then comes Just a Game (A2), blending spacious 90s progressive and synthwave influences over a rock-solid club bassline and crisp drums. Playing with atmosphere and emotion, the track explores the feeling that we are never too far from a simulation, that maybe everything is just a game. Perfectly suited for introspective yet intense moments, it acts as an ideal bridge between harder tracks in a set.

On the flip side, I Love Acid (B1) is direct, hypnotic, and designed to lock the dancefloor into a steady flow. Stripped back to punchy drums and a raw acid line, it takes a minimal approach that works equally well in early hours or late-night sets. Behind the title lies the idea of acid as both machine energy and mental escape, where repetitive sequences blur the boundary between human emotion and mechanical movement.

As a final touch, Scan Your Brain (B2) shifts into deeper, more immersive territory. Analog pad textures create a drifting atmosphere over a hypnotic bassline and electro drums. With this closing track, Blue Vision answers their initial question by imagining the dancefloor as a space to disconnect from rigid thinking. The vocal serves as a reminder that the brain is constantly overloaded, and that dancing becomes a way to let go, reset, and reconnect.

Skyjack — the borderless five piece band spread across South Africa and Switzerland — announce their fourth studio album, Let The Sky Open Under Your Feet, out 3rd July.

Recorded in December 2025 at a secluded studio outside Stellenbosch, South Africa, the album captures the vibrant live energy of the band at its most expansive — drawing together free improvisation, South African jazz traditions, chamber music, kinetic groove, and ecstatic collective interplay into a singular body of work.

“This record is a very articulate representation of our sound, having grown deep roots into the earth with high branches reaching upward and outward”, says bassist Shane Cooper. “My desire is always to create sonic universes that can envelope the listener.”

The album’s title comes from a line in a poem by the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi, reflecting the music’s balance between groundedness and transcendence. Here, Skyjack move fluidly between meditative improvisation and lush orchestration across twelve tracks of free-spirited, cosmic journeying. Inspired both by the cultural traditions and natural environments of South Africa, Let The Sky Open Under Your Feet is a testament to the band’s intuitive connection and innate musical curiosity.

It arrives just over a year after Light Cycle (2024), a short gap that reflects the momentum built on tour. After exchanging sketches remotely across two continents, the band reunited in Johannesburg in late 2025, workshopped the new material onstage across South Africa, and then headed directly into the studio, where much of the album was recorded live in first takes — preserving the looseness and unpredictability central to Skyjack’s sound.

Comprised of Kyle Shepherd (piano), Shane Cooper (bass), Jonno Sweetman (drums), Andreas Tschopp (trombone), and Marc Stucki (saxophones), Skyjack first formed in Cape Town in 2013 during a fertile moment in South African jazz, as a new generation of musicians pushed against rigid genre definitions and opened the music outward toward broader sonic possibilities. Over the past decade, the band has built a singular sound drawing equally on South African groove traditions and European improvisation.

Individually, the members move between jazz, electronic music, film scoring, rock, hip-hop and experimental composition, with collaborations spanning artists including William Parker, Lionel Loueke, Zim Ngqawana, Ben LaMar Gay, Jorge Rossy, Shabaka Hutchings, William Kentridge, Makaya McCraven and Sylvie Courvoisier.

Since their self-titled debut in 2015, followed by The Hunter (2019) and Light Cycle (2024), the group has developed a reputation for immersive live performances and music that continuously reshapes itself in motion — rooted in what they describe as “warm menacing African grooves,” while refusing fixed stylistic borders.

Longform: Across two decades, the California-born hardcore outfit CEREMONY has earned its standing as one of punk’s most adaptable and unflinching bands, always ready to meet the moment without surrendering its principles. True to form, CEREMONY's seventh album, Tell Me Your Dream pushes the group’s punk-forged intensity all the way to the fore, capturing the quintet at its most expressive, expansive, and timely. “We’re living in an era of mass uncertainty,” says CEREMONY vocalist Ross Farrar. “In punk, I don’t see how you can’t respond. It’s taken over our lives in so many different ways — economically, politically, spiritually. We want people to wake up and get into what’s happening.”  Ferociously alert, Tell Me Your Dream reunites CEREMONY — Farrar, guitarist-keyboardist Anthony Anzaldo, guitarist Andy Nelson, bassist Justin Davis and drummer Jake Casarotti — with producer John Reis for ten songs of searing breadth. That means everything from bristling hardcore to moody post-punk — all while taking fundamental inspiration from Discharge, Crass, and other anarcho-punk troupes that first helped certain members of CEREMONY find their own political voices back when they were teenagers. The result is a culmination of the band’s 21 years together, if not some kind of riddle: CEREMONY knows how to make a return-to-form sound like evolution — and vice versa.

Recorded April 17 and 18, 1993, at the Union Grove Baptist Church, Ozark, Alabama.

The Wiregrass Singers' Dewey Williams began learning the shape-note tradition in his childhood. He studied under Judge Jackson, who authored the landmark 1934 hymnbook The Colored Sacred Harp. In 1971, Williams formally organized The Wiregrass Sacred Harp Singers to preserve the music full-time. This unified troupe began touring nationally and leading workshops, which ultimately launched them onto stages at the Smithsonian and Newport folk festivals up until Williams' passing in 1995 when the group disbanded. The African-American Sacred Harp tradition in the Wiregrass region has steeply declined since the start of the 21st century, due to an aging generation of singers, and today it is largely sustained through archival preservation and occasional multi-book singing meetups.

This raw recording, made at the Union Grove Baptist Church, Ozark in mid-April 1993 finds the group singing from B. F. White’s The Sacred Harp (1844), which together with his brother-in-law William Walker’s Southern Harmony (1835) formed the musical backbone of generations of Southern music and Southern musical styles.

"On almost any Sunday between the months of March and October, the season most conducive to travel and outdoor dinner-on-the- grounds, Sacred Harp devotés join with fellow songsters at the County Line Church in Slocomb, or the Mount Sinai Church in Henry County, or the Union Grove Baptist Church in Dale County, or at any one of a dozen or so churches in the southeast Alabama counties of Barbour, Coffee, Dale, Geneva, Houston and Pike, to form the square and sing fa-sol-la. Approximately fifteen African-American Sacred Harp singings occur annually in the Wiregrass region of southeast Alabama. A singing tradition characteristically associated with white culture in the Deep South, southeast Alabama has enjoyed a vibrant African-American Sacred Harp tradition for well over a century.

On a day of a typical African-American Sacred Harp Singing, the participants arrive casually in the late morning, seat themselves in the square according to voice part, and begin to sing. A dinner break occurs in the early afternoon, and the singers enjoy a covered-dish "dinner-on-the-grounds" (or in the church basement) prepared by the women. The most intense and emotional singing typically occurs after the dinner break. Each singer takes a turn leading the song of his choice. He walks to the middle of the square, calls out the song's page number and waits for the designated tuner to key the song. Singers are discouraged by the other singers from repeating a song that has already been sung, or "used." This proscription is often dispensed with, however, if the singer is particularly young, particularly old, or if the song has special significance to the individual song leader (perhaps the favorite song of a recently deceased relative).

Every singer is given an opportunity to lead a song. Often, older or more infirm singers will request younger singers to lead their songs for them. The motions of the song leaders are highly stylistic and often emotional. Young children are taught in singing school to mark time with their right arm while holding the book in their left. Typically, a singer will stand in place at the center of the square while leading the singing of the notes. When he begins to lead the lyrics portion of the song, he will often begin to "walk time," rhythmically pacing from one side of the square to the other, being careful never to turn his back on the tenor section. This "walking time" is unique to the African-American tradition. As a singer grows more confident he develops his own distinctive leading style. During fuguing songs in particular, he may gesture to each section of the square as its part joins in. Skilled song leaders often elicit applause or other emotional responses from the group. Occasionally a singer may fall into a state of spiritual ecstasy and "get happy." The episode might include a personal testimonial followed by a repeat of the last verse or refrain from the previous song. The singings break up around 5 P.M."
—Henry Willett, 1997 credits

Ayo lands on Kumquat with four cuts of distinct minimal flavor. Punchy kicks and crisp rhythms intertwine with intricately crafted squelches on Hint Please. Pressures Inside takes a lighter turn for early mornings, subtly balancing bouncy optimism with introspective vibes.

Bizness energy returns on the B side — Late Euphoria glides eerie vocal samples over razor-sharp snares that'll have dancers raising their arms in unison. The EP closes with a groovy chugger whose infectious bassline is certain to make sun-drenched dancefloors wiggle. Essential tunes from a rising Marseillais star whose sets consistently turn heads.

The Goblin Walk is an invitation to trace the footsteps of the eponymous creature through five swampy, dubby, liquid techno interpretations from four different artists. Label head Caldera opens with the gently underlapping space chug of 'Today', followed by Traevor's 'Reef' which turns marimba into a dubbed-out bass meditation. Caldera then features again under his Loop LF alias with 'Tiz', which pairs spectral sonic sketches with whimsical melodies that drift and float as if in a gravity-free zone. Streetfaxx then unearths a long-lost 2013 Cologne track, its patient rhythmic progression untouched by the passing years, before ambient textures take centre stage in Nightwaif's 'Xmas1 (vocal dub)' as tape experiments float over deep sub-bass, caught somewhere between 1980s new age and modern ambient minimalism. A compelling, exploratory world of sound.