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Rian Treanor keeps knocking new doors of possibility with his new label Electronic Music Club and its initial focus on Rotherham Sight & Sound, participants of a community-based initiative in their shared post-industrial home town Rotherham. Utilising software synths designed by Rian and his dad Mark Fell, the trio twist out vortices of shearing, asymmetric anarchitecture, rudely resembling the sort of hyper-contemporary styles alluded to in Rian’s solo works, but inflected with cranky timing and an intuitive freedom that bears extraordinary results, especially when considering the fact the trio had no prior musical ability, and only encountered electronic music a few years ago.

After a couple of years of practice and performance, ‘Action Potential’ now firms up their quicksilver sound for club and home buzzes with seven actions that warp and morph from the needling jolts and hoof of ‘Pass The Go’, to shuddering detonations in ‘Dial’, each with a properly electrifying force carrying a genuine futureshock. Working within Rian’s systems-based framework, Anne, Kathleen, and Mick deploy a tactile feel for the machines, finely honed over the course of many sessions at the Rotherham Sight & Sound facility, that uses their visual impairments to synaesthetic advantage.

Between the wickedly metallic ragga swivel of ‘Hold’, the diffractive chain reactions of ‘When It Ends’, and more tempered, sloshing sensuality of ‘30 Seconds’, the trio follow their noses down wormholes that manifest an ideal of accessibility and expressionism within electronic music contexts that Rian and Mark have long worked towards, with Anne, Kathleen and Mick’s relative lack of cultural conditioning in this paradigm prompting them to act on pure instinct

This release is a nod to the club. 5 tracks that are made for dancing in the dark.

Hypnosis is a mind control laced phenom. S.Ringer lends his voice as your guide to gratitude, and a good time as you move to the chords that push and pull your body to the beat.

The title track Echo Chamber, is an aggressively rhythmic beat. The atonal melody is accompanied by a looping bass-line that calls for circling the floor indefinitely.

Nasty is Stefan's current interpretation of a chicago style jack track. Simple and effective chunky drums with a jackin’ cadence are agreeably accompanied by panicked staccato synth lines and an almost hollow growling distorted bass that enforce the assignment…. to Jack!

Slanted House is a cool down. Feels like a tall glass of ice water after the heated dance session you just had. With chords that are smooth and deep, laced with that rhythm and bass-line that moves you instantly.

Sweet Chariot is a jewel in the crown of this release. Simply put, a song that is so smooth and yet grooves so strongly. A skating song if you will. Reminiscent of the so so def era in Atlanta but more laid back.

These are indeed 5 interesting dance cuts to match different temperatures of a party.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Acid Squeaker, industrial and banging. From 150 to 170 BPM.

Starting with an Acid bath from Bass Température this collab between Vinyl Bleu and Bass Addict is perfect.
SourD kicker then bring a mental progressive dark Tribe tune. A pure kick design again :)
Numéro Bleu then comes with a Techno or Tekno asking the question of a style. A beauty.
Luche & Faya finished the job with a Trance trip : superb twirler.

ENJOY !




b A2 - SourD - Drogue Dure


[b] A2 [SourD] - Drogue Dure

In 2023, all sources of life across the multiverse jumped and twisted to the irresistible sound of COSMIC QUEST, the second full-length record of Swiss septet extraordinaire COSMIC SHUFFLING. Today, the Geneva based combo returns with the second half of the quest: a FULL INSTRUMENTAL long play.

This new record carries on the band’s journey to a realm where the stars dance to the beat of your heart. Travelling across galaxies, passing through nebulas, black holes and asteroid fields, the handsome lads disseminate the classic sound of SKA and ROCKSTEADY with burning hot-like-plasma scorchers. Temperature rises,
bodies warm up, sway, embrace and go wild. This is the effect produced by the explorers of unconditional cosmic love: the LOVONAUTS.

Welcome to the LOVONAUTS’ ODYSSEY – the ultimate soundtrack of the septet astral adventures. Let yourself be carried away by these ten love letters to Jamaica’s iconic sound of the 60’s and its greatest musical stars

RESOUND NYC - Das neue Album von MOBY! Nach seinem gefeierten Album ”Reprise” (Mai 2021), auf dem unter anderem Kris Kristofferson, Mark Lanegan, Jim James und Skylar Grey zu hören waren, hat Moby nun 15 seiner legendärsten New Yorker Tracks aus den Jahren 1994 bis 2010 neu interpretiert und instrumentiert. Mobys 20. Studioalbum ist nicht nur eine Reflexion über die vielleicht entscheidendste Zeit in seinem Leben, sondern auch über sein einstiges Zuhause, New York City. Dort wurde er geboren, dort nahm seine Karriere ihren Anfang – im Punkrock und als DJ in Underground-Clubs.
»Bevor ich Punkrock für mich entdeckte, war ich im Classic Rock zu Hause«, sagt Moby. »Mein erstes Konzert war 1978 Yes im Madison Square Garden. Es war also mehr als verlockend, sich noch einmal mit meinen Liedern auseinanderzusetzen und zu gucken, ob sie einer traditionelleren, nicht-elektronischen, orchestralen Bearbeitung standhalten.« Begleitet wird Moby auf diesem Album von großartigen Künstlern wie Nicole Scherzinger, Gregory Porter, Ricky Wilson und Amythyst Kiah.

Stockholm repper Patrik Eriksson is a proponent for deep and loopy techno, under his Dold moniker the DJ/producer delivers all manner of introverted compositions, moments designed for home and club that resonate with an evocative and redoubtable simplicity. His catalogue of releases on co-run label Arsenik are an ongoing dialogue with live partner Kuf and a selection of well-known peers, stripped down techno that conveys a cogent message with its straight talking approach.

The Revival Recordings (BAS 014) is another vinyl feather in Dold's cap, a five track release that takes the relay from his developing opus and sprints assuredly on. A1 Work Me pairs mercurial hi-hats with subaquatic squeaks, while its successor keeps tempo and switches its leitmotif for hollow, metallic repetitions. The temperature rises with Solid Solitude, the A3 banger that's likely to make its way into many a closing set towards the end of summer. The B side takes a darker turn with Insight (B1), a slower, more philosophical entry suggestive of breezy Scandinavian nights. B2 points its arrow in another direction still, more urban, more clubfloor, shuffling acid beats that tie the record and Dold's many-faceted influences together in a neat package. There's a bit of everything here, and a hint at both Dold's capacity as a producer and what might be yet to come. A promise of compelling techno from the north that's sure to put his star on the rise.

Die umjubelelten, schrill-bunten Rockerinnen von The Hot Damn! sind mit einem Paukenschlag zurück und veröffentlichen ihre elektrisierende neue Single Can You Hear Me Now? zusammen mit der Ankündigung ihres mit Spannung erwarteten Debütalbums Dancing on the Milky Way, das am Freitag, den 27. September 2024, über Fat Earth Records erscheinen wird. Die vierköpfige britische Rockband wird als das ,farbenfrohe Chaos" des Rock bezeichnet und bringt mit jedem Song, jedem Video und einer energischen Live-Show nach der anderen wieder Farbe in die Musikszene. Mit knackigen Riffs und wilden Harmonien bringen The Hot Damn! dich zum Tanzen, bevor du es merkst. Die vier temperamentvollen Damen, die unter anderem von Kerrang!, Planet Rock und BBC Radio 2, BBC Radio 6 und Radio BOB gelobt wurden, sind keine Unbekannten in der Musikszene. entstand die Band u.a. aus der Asche von The Amorettes und Tequila Mockingbyrd und besteht aus den Talenten von Gill Montgomery (The Amorettes), Josie O'Toole (Tequila Mockingbyrd), Laurie Buchanan (Aaron Buchanan and the Cult Classics) und Lzi Hayes (New Device/Sophie Lloyd Band).The Hot Damn! aus Marlow, Buckinghamshire, mögen es laut, aber sie machen nicht nur mit ihrer Musik auf sich aufmerksam, sondern auch auf ein Thema, das ihnen am Herzen liegt - den Gehörschutz. Da die Band erkannt hat, wie wichtig die Gesundheit des Gehörs sowohl für das Publikum als auch für die Musiker ist, hat sie sich dazu verpflichtet, bei all ihren Konzerten Einweg-Ohrstöpsel anzubieten. Neben einzelnen Headline-Gigs reisen The Hot Damn! im November 2024 als Support von D-A-D durch Deutschland um ihr hart rockendes Werk zu präsentieren. CD mit zwei Akustik-Bonustracks, LP als Sunshine Yellow Vinyl!

Inside Automatic Popular Music there are two people sitting in a room, their backs to each other. One plays a piano with no particular attention to detail and tuning of the instrument, and another, sitting behind him, claps his hands on his own legs. They do not see each other, they never look at each other, they can only listen to each other, look around. The room is large enough, it is daytime, there are four windows through which enough light enters to illuminate the objects and furniture with objects on them. October, the temperature is great and outside the window there are many people and all these people are dancing to the music of another record.

Automatic Popular Music was recorded and mixed by Nicola Ratti between July and December 2023. The tracks consist almost entirely of sounds generated by automatisms programmed on modular synthesisers. These are combined with tape loops on which fragments of both acoustic and digital pianos are engraved, generating tracks that are structured on repetitiveness in both their rhythmic and harmonic components. The adjective 'popular' is in this case the result of the other adjective 'automatic' since the machine has been entrusted with the task of generating the melodic patterns and harmonic structures of the tracks on the disc.

Automatic Popular Music is the first release by LL, a curatorial and editorial platform based in Milano and formed by artists and curators.

Composed, recorded and mixed by Nicola Ratti between July and December 2023. Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi. Cover photo by Cédrick Eymenier.

Ace Buzz is one of the various projects of Tony Baron and Gery Francois (the minds behind projects like "Teknokrat's" and others that would found their output on labels like Carrere). Potentially naive for some, but surely playful and raw, an exquisite example of the sound of Belgian "New Beat". Void of the usual aggressive temper known to the genre, "Moskitos" comes in with a slight juxtaposition of Balearic accents in the form of those classic, very simple, piano chords we might have heard enough of. The samples employed invoke the image of someone in a cheap hotel room in Ibiza without AC trying to kill the airborne vermin celebrated in the title while hallucinating from an August drug infused heatwave, who knows. On the B-side, things slow down into a deeper more serious mood, "Nuevo Mondo" departs from the usual New Beat potency into something a bit more digestible to the ear in a rather unique way, followed by a Remix that sounds more like a complete facelift of a cover version by studio maestro Anatolian Weapons.

Klex blobbing his first solo EP on Strictly Strictly, pushing forward with his virtually self-titled "Klextasy EP". Entangling techy trance strikers with dreamily warm temperament, Klex offers three strikingly quirky productions on side A, blending surprisingly seamlessly from bouncy to anthemic passages. Accompanied by a strong team of remixers, with Viikatory, Lakehead, and DJ Normal 4 pressing a psy-techy stamp on side B. Digital Bonus: Two extra Remixes from Urte and once again Normal 4. A release like a steamy open-air summer night by the lake.

Another pair of home hitters, slamming out 2 tropical flavoured monsters ready to bring the fire to any dancefloor!

Neue Instrumentalgruppe, ein achtköpfiges Blechbläserensemble, das mit seiner ersten 7"-Vinylsingle "Conrad's Lesson" und "Ward to Ward" Wellen schlagen wird. Dieser Knaller von einer Veröffentlichung mit zwei spektakulären Melodien zeigt die Einflüsse der Gruppe. Die A-Seite, "Conrad's Lesson", liefert einen pulsierenden Midtempo-Groove, angetrieben von funkigen Drums und geschmückt mit wunderbar sanften Bläsermelodien. Das Juwel der B-Seite, "Ward to Ward", bietet beschwingten New Orleans Second Line Funk, der durch synkopische Beats und temperamentvolle Bläserarrangements den Geist des Feierns und der Freude verströmt. Inspiriert von den gefühlvollen Klängen der Kashmere Stage Band, Curtis Mayfield - und natürlich von zeitgenössischen Vorreitern wie der Young Blood Brass Band und der Hot 8 Brass Band.

Double LP set capturing some of Causa Sui's heaviest, most psychedelic tunes recorded live at Loppen - a legendary Copenhagen venue, located in the famous - and infamous - Freetown Christiania commune. This is the sound of Causa Sui at their home turf, stretching out and exploring eight epic fan-favourites from their entire catalogue in front of a small crowd of 400 people in a packed sold-out venue. The show was recorded the first week that Covid restrictions were lifted on venues in Denmark, which called for an especially buzzing night, even for a band that has exclusively played no more than a handful of shows each year since their 2005 debut. Each Causa Sui show is unique. Here we're offered a different perspective of the band's music - it's looser, more free-flowing, and some tracks are warped into something far from their original versions, bouncing off the wooden beams on the low ceiling of Loppen with renewed energy. At one point you can hear the band calling to take a breather and let some air inside the sauna-like temperature of the show, which just weeks before seemed impossible. Loppen 2021 offers a complete set from start to finish, so since chances that you'll catch the band live in person are slim, this is the next best thing. Mixed and mastered by Jonas Munk. Edition of 1000 copies on coloured ecomix vinyl.

As one of the most enigmatic figures of the 1970's Italian soundtrack and library music network Emma De Angelis and her short recording career provides thirsty fans of speedball psychedelic rock and drum heavy instrumental funk with a tight discography rivalling many of the long-standing bastions of the otherwise male-orientated business. * Strictly limited to 1000 copies.*
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Born in Rocca di Papa, near Rome, into a flourishing musical environment Emma was the younger sister of future award-winning composers Guido And Maurizio De Angelis, a duo, who under names like Oliver Onions and Dream Bags, would write chart-topping lyrical theme tunes for a wide range of Italian crime, Giallo and Spaghetti Western films featured alongside full scores by Ennio Morricone and the Magnetic System composers (Bixio Frizzi Tempera).
With encouragement from her brothers, Emma, who would also write music under the pseudonym of Juniper, would record a tight clutch of solo-penned material and seldom credited studio contributions to Guido And Maurizio's film commissions, such as the score for Giuliano Carnimeo's Simone e Matteo: Un gioco da ragazzi (aka Convoy Buddies). While simultaneously pursuing a career as an illustrator and set designer the De Angelis family contacts would lead Emma to the offices of Romano Di Bari, whose up-and-coming Flirt label was finding success providing custom built mood music for use in TV and film. Alongside important composers like Alessandro Alessandroni, Gerardo Iacoucci and A. R. Luciani, the young Emma Di Angelis would record a small number of tracks for a compilation called Underground Mood (credited in the small print to E De Angelis - not to be confused with Italian singer Edoardo De Angelis). It is from this rare LP that the record you are now holding is compiled. Within the Flirt family of labels Emma De Angelis would also share schedules with other important female composers such as Daniela Casa and Giulia Kema' De Mutiis - both of whom have appeared on dedicated Finders Keepers releases.
The tracks on this record provide us with a rare glimpse into Emma De Angelis' short musical career before she became a full-time visual artist. With an unknown personnel or studio date it is easy to speculate a potential family jam in Piero Umiliani's Sound Workshop studio in 1972. One only has to take a listen to Guido And Maurizio's instrumental theme Gangster Story from Enzo G. Castellari's 1973 thriller High Crime (which later appeared on Tarantino's Death Proof soundtrack) or the trippy title theme to Paolo Poeti's kinky 1976 drama Inhibition to spot the family resemblance