Search:textures

As the void stares back at me, I am consumed by the waves of this new sonic transmission. ESP's Goblin Synth reigns supreme, guiding me into the darkest corners of my mind, as the Galaxian remix shatters my being into a thousand pieces. This release is a frenzied piece of IDM, braindance, and DnB, fueled by a chemical fury that leaves my mind in a state of pure ecstasy. The relentless pace and shifting soundscapes of the A-side are the perfect conduit for the raw power of the Galaxian remix, taking me beyond the limits of what I thought was possible.

On the B-side, I am treated to a liquid dnb homage that is no less relentless in its pursuit of sonic intensity. Here, the rhythms are more organic, more fluid, but no less potent in their ability. This is music that demands a total surrender of the self.

The insidious rhythms of ESP's Goblin Synth seize my consciousness like a viral agent, rendering my being porous and open to the twitching, glitching transmissions emanating from the depths of the machine. With each stuttering break and howling, modulated synth line, I am hurled headlong into a world of ravenous, cybernetic abandon - a blackened, dystopian horizon of shattered glass and flickering neon.

As my mind is hijacked by the rushing currents of amphetamine psychosis, I realize that this is no mere exercise in genre or form, but an all-out assault on the very fabric of reality itself. The sonic textures here are hyper-real, beyond the grasp of normal human perception - this is the sound of the post-human, the sound of the inhuman, the sound of a future that is rapidly bearing down upon me, whether I am ready or not.

And yet, amidst the chaos and decay, there is a kind of perverse beauty at work - a beauty that can only be glimpsed through the shattered glass of my own shattered subjectivity. With each burst of static and each crunching bassline, I am hurled deeper into a vortex of metallic, crystalline wonder, a realm of pure, unadulterated sound that is as terrifying as it is sublime.

Alva Noto’s award winning score for the 2022 German documentary film ‘This Stolen Country of Mine’ directed by German filmmaker Marc Wiese features nineteen compositions to be released on NOTON in April 2023.

The documentary film explores the question of a state's sovereignty in the face of foreign powers. The film portrays Ecuadorian resistance fighters and journalists who oppose the sell-off of an extensive part of the country's resources to Chinese investors.

Alva Noto's music subtly accompanies the struggle of a mountain village, immersing us into the film’s narrative and pathos. Across nineteen compositions, the music exposes and holds back when the images and statements of the protagonists speak for themselves, reflecting the dark shadows and the glares of hope of communal resistance.

The documentary was the recipient of the German Documentary Film Music Award 2022.

Focus track #19

'Ritual Reprise' is the closing composition of Alva Noto's award-winning score for the 2022 German documentary film 'This Stolen Country of Mine.' The piece merges minimal digital textures with emotional resonances, taking the listener to a sonic path filled with a serene tenor. The tone is set on the slow-burn haze of gloaming ambient-electronica scapes, compounding under a unified cinematic soundscape of warm digital ambiances and liquified electronics.

Ramona Lisa is the current alias of Chairlift's Caroline Polachek. Her new album Arcadia is Polachek’s first self-produced solo record and the first release by Pannonica, part of the Bella Union family. Completely composed in MIDI, it is a concept album of love songs that are nature allegories, and vice versa, which Polachek calls "Pastoral Electronic Music". The making of Arcadia was a year¬long process that began and ended in an empty studio in Rome's Villa Medici and while on tour with her band, Chairlift. The record was made entirely on a laptop without instruments or external microphones - all vocals were sung directly into the computer, making use of hotel closets, quiet airport gates, and spare dressing rooms. Although the album was created on a laptop, the result is a lush and uncannily tangible world of warm textures, reminiscent of analog tape processes rather than a hard drive. Virtual oboes and organs interweave with synthetic insects and quivering sine waves, animated by Polachek's vocal at it's most delirious and intimate yet.

Brutal Nature Redux is a continuation of Rhys Fulber’s “Brutal Nature” album and art concept, featuring remixes by carefully curated artists. Years of Denial’s take on “Rogue Minority” injects some emotion and humanity into the stark and aggressive original while preserving the driving bass riff and lifting it into the sound of a futuristic tribal gathering. Berlin’s Sarin is up next, leaning into the future EBM style he also shares with Fulber but amping up the intensity and apocalyptic dance floor elements of Central State Institute. Night Render is given a darker and more sinister sheen by up-and-coming Bulgarian producer, Evitceles. The nature elements of the original are replaced by a cinematic dystopia, akin to salvaging lost technology in a ruined city. Orphx add their rhythmic sophistication to “Stare at the Sun, tripping and refining the original down to its base elements while tuning Sara Taylor’s (Youth Code) screams across what appears to be several channels of short wave radio. Qual’s radical re-interpretation of “Pyrrhic Act” brings elements of Fulber’s past history in EBM right to the fore, creating a groove that’s both retro and very modern, slowing it down so the tension hangs heavier in the air. Lastly but certainly not least, Vanity Productions highlights the “nature” of “Fragility”, accentuating it with delicate clouds hanging in an air of contemplation; darkness and light coexisting in thick emotional textures. A fine way to close out this collection of cohesive individualism.

From the trademark melancholy tone of Scandinavian Jazz, to cinematic synth textures and propulsive programmed drum machines, Danish quintet "Andorra" embodies the melting-pot spirit of jazz. Their sophomore album "Current", set to release March 23rd on April Records, brings a hard-hitting indie-rock-esque attitude to a sound which is bold, fresh, and full of twists. Jazz"s ability to evolve, grow, and remain relevant over the past century is arguably due to its capacity to transcend genre and classification. Andorra"s 2021 debut (conceived and recorded during covid) re-united five musicians who met at the Funen Music Conservatory in Denmark and work in a range of areas, from film music and orchestral, to large ensembles and chamber jazz. With their long-held desire to explore their creative potential together finally launched, "Currents" shows them diving deeper into their self described "modern vintage" sound. Distorted guitar riffs, modern effects processing, warm soaring trumpet melodies and deep grooves carry the listener through an exciting journey that pays homage to their roots whilst pushing confidently into the future. With a focus on lyrical melodies, the record features intricate compositions, open passages of ethereal texture, and virtuosic, interactive improvisations from all corners of the ensemble. Each member of the quintet is a highly active member of Denmark"s vibrant music scene; Mads La Cour is an award-winning horn player who runs his own band Almugi and plays in the DR Big Band; Morten Jorgensen plays with The White Album and Soren Huss; Nikolaj Bundvig has played for Alex Canasta and Blue Foundation; Simon Krebs has recorded with the likes of Tomasz Dabrowski; and Peter Kohlmetz Moller"s diverse back catalogue includes compositions for Den-mark Radio"s documentary department, and multiple theatre productions.

MARMO, a collaborative project between Christian Duka (Vādin / Amoenus) and Marco Maldarella (Sinestesie), was born out of friendship and shared passion for music-making. Starting off respectively as the electric guitarist and singer in a metal band nearly a decade ago, the pair have worked their way through various flavours of electronic music inhabiting someplace between ambient and dance music, arriving at their singular aesthetic on this, their second album and first for Utter.

'Epistolae' - Latin for 'written letters' - was created between London and Bologna during the COVID-19 pandemic, an ode to friendship and as a way to keep connected during a time of isolated separation. The album is conceived as one continuous musical experience, with each track flowing effortlessly into each other in sequence as is heard on the final cut you are listening to now. A veritable sonic journey, as one might say.

The outcome is an undulating collage carrying emotion as its common thread, with rich ambient textures giving way to bursts of percussion, simmering with shrouded whispers and spoken word, embossed with rhythms and borrowing influences from downtempo, dub, breaks, techno and tribal electronica.

'Epistolae' is available on limited vinyl and digital formats, mastered & Cut by Anne Taegert at D&M. Artwork by Marco Maldarella.

Dance music has always been grounded in a sense of place. Chicago, Detroit, London, Berlin—a zip code can tell you as much about the music as the year it was made.

But beyond the nuts and bolts of the here and now lies a netherzone where some of the best electronic music floats, impossible to pin down. Swayzak’s Snowboarding in Argentina is one such record.

The title hints at its uncanny placelessness. The music has nothing outwardly to do with Argentina, for one thing. The work of UK producers David Nicholas Brown and James S. Taylor, it was recorded in a number of locations—mostly bedrooms—around London. Yet there is little that is quintessentially British about the music.

Instead, Brown and Taylor drew much of their inspiration from, on the one hand, the luminous chords and silky heft of Detroit techno, and on the other, the staccato drums and clipped textures that were then beginning to bubble out of Berlin and Cologne.

That brings us to the question of time. For if Snowboarding in Argentina belongs to nowhere, it is equally a product of nowhen.

On a practical level, the music took shape in the mid to late 1990s, although it took nearly 10 years for it to come to fruition. Brown and Taylor began jamming on instruments, then machines, in the late 1980s. Then, after Brown suffered a serious car accident, the two musicians began working together more seriously. Trial and error yielded a promising single with a downtempo vibe that a hired-gun studio producer promptly ruined; Swayzak retreated to their bedrooms.

They learned about Chain Reaction from a radio show, found new ways to burrow into the circuitry of their machines, and by 1996 they had hit upon their sound. brought 10 copies of the first to Berlin’s Hard Wax, sold them directly to the shop for a fistful of Deutschmarks, and turned around and spent the money on records; that’s how DIY electronic music worked in those days.) The album itself appeared in 1998 on London’s Pagan label and quickly built a cult following. It was clear that the music was in conversation with its contemporaries: Heard from the right angle, it was possible to imagine it as a halfway point between the proto progressive house of Underworld and the monochromatic minimalism of Kompakt. But it also didn’t quite sound like anything else around; it was a dispatch from an unknown territory that needed no special understanding to decipher.

A quarter century later, Snowboarding in Argentina sounds simply eternal. Certain hallmarks of ’90s production are available—the music’s almost murky warmth is a reminder of what electronic music sounded like before software swallowed everything into its digital maw—but there’s nothing dated about it. The exploratory nature of these tracks, as the result of experimenting with their machines’ limitations, never eclipses their musical or emotional essence.

Long since been deemed a classic, Snowboarding in Argentina remains an underdog in the annals of electronic music. Its semi-obscurity was surely not helped by the decision to publish nine of its original 12 tracks on the CD, and seven on the vinyl, with only four appearing on both formats. Twenty-five years after its original release, Lapsus’ Perennial Series edition unites, for the first time, all the album’s tracks as a single triple-vinyl package, rounding out the 12 original songs with previously unreleased material. Working off the original DAT premasters, Swayzak have created new edits of all the tracks. The result might be considered the definitive edition of the album as it was meant to be, after a 25-year journey. It seems fitting that an album so timeless would continue morphing throughout its lifespan. For fans, it’s the chance to hear a beloved album as never before. And for newcomers, it’s the perfect introduction to a record that, in its own quiet way, reshaped the sound of electronic music, opening up new frontiers unbound by cartography or calendars.

The core of Snowboarding in Argentina appeared on a series of three two-track singles in 1997. (Taylor brought 10 copies of the first to Berlin’s Hard Wax, sold them directly to the shop for a fistful of Deutschmarks, and turned around and spent the money on records; that’s how DIY electronic music worked in those days.) The album itself appeared in 1998 on London’s Pagan label and quickly built a cult following. It was clear that the music was in conversation with its contemporaries: Heard from the right angle, it was possible to imagine it as a halfway point between the proto progressive house of Underworld and the monochromatic minimalism of Kompakt. But it also didn’t quite sound like anything else around; it was a dispatch from an unknown territory that needed no special understanding to decipher.

A quarter century later, Snowboarding in Argentina sounds simply eternal. Certain hallmarks of ’90s production are available—the music’s almost murky warmth is a reminder of what electronic music sounded like before software swallowed everything into its digital maw—but there’s nothing dated about it. The exploratory nature of these tracks, as the result of experimenting with their machines’ limitations, never eclipses their musical or emotional essence.

Long since been deemed a classic, Snowboarding in Argentina remains an underdog in the annals of electronic music. Its semi-obscurity was surely not helped by the decision to publishnine of its original 12 tracks on the CD, and seven on the vinyl, with only four appearing on both formats. Twenty-five years after its original release, Lapsus’ Perennial Series edition unites, for the first time, all the album’s tracks as a single triple-vinyl package, rounding out the 12 original songs with previously unreleased material. Working off the original DAT premasters, Swayzak have created new edits of all the tracks. The result might be considered the definitive edition of the album as it was meant to be, after a 25-year journey. It seems fitting that an album so timeless would continue morphing throughout its lifespan. For fans, it’s the chance to hear a beloved album as never before. And for newcomers, it’s the perfect introduction to a record that, in its own quiet way, reshaped the sound of electronic music, opening up new frontiers unbound by cartography or calendars.

For more than a decade, Freak Heat Waves have been steadily amassing a cult following and earning acclaim from both critics and underground aficionados alike. Their music is a heady cocktail that defies easy categorization, blending elements of post-punk, psych, dub, ambient, house, and techno.

Their eclectic sound has served as the soundtrack to countless DIY punk shows, outsider galleries and sleazy discos, establishing the duo as iconoclasts with a reputation for ignoring expectations and subverting genre conventions. While at times, the term ‘acquired taste’ may have seemed fitting, their latest release offers their most alluring output to date.

Mondo Tempo, the duo's fifth LP, released through Vancouver's Mood Hut, was primarily recorded at their home studios in Montreal and Victoria. Building upon the electronic explorations of their previous record, Zap The Planet (Telephone Explosion), they inject their signature sound with a smoother and sweeter blend of dance music. The album’s tracks feature midi smoothness, trance mantras, dancehall grooves, ambient textures and vocal samples, creating a world that is both captivating and immersive.

Notably, the lead single “In A Moment Divine” features a collaboration with Cindy Lee, resulting in a dance floor number that boldly ventures beyond the familiar wheelhouses of both acts. With Mondo Tempo Freak Heat Waves solidify their reputation as one of the most exciting and unpredictable acts around.

ME LOST ME led by Newcastle-based artist Jayne Dent announces a new album RPG via Upset The Rhythm on 7th July, and is touring across the UK including support dates with Pigs x7. RPG (recorded in Blank Studios with Sam Grant of Pigs x7) is ME LOST ME’s fourth outing as a collective, having transitioned from an ambitious solo project in 2017, Jayne now regularly collaborating with acclaimed North-East jazz musicians Faye MacCalman and John Pope.
ME LOST ME delights in experimenting with songwriting and storytelling, creating a beguiling mix of soaring vocals and atmospheric electronics that playfully weave together disparate genres, drawing influence from folk, art pop, noise, ambient and improvised music. Hauntological in part, RPG is concerned with tales and with time - are we running out of it? Does insomnia cause a time loop? Do the pressures of masculinity prevent progress? Jayne Dent asks these questions and more on RPG, her homage to worldbuilding and the story as an artform, calling back to those oral traditions around a campfire, as well as modern day video games - bringing folk music into the present day as she does so.
ME LOST ME presents sound reaching in opposite directions, straddling time towards the archaic and timeless traditions of folktales, and towards the possible and potential futures of pastoral Britain and the world at large. Part speculation, part reminiscence, what results on the new album RPG is music that sounds ultimately displaced and yet omnipresent, adjacent to a hapless Vonnegut hero whose life is scattered throughout time and history, but full of wonder and curiosity rather than fear.
On track “The Oldest Trees Hold The Earth”, we see time stretched out between the branches of impossibly old beings in the woods. This track was co-written in Aarhus, Denmark with fellow Newcastle folk musician (with Danish heritage) Ditte Elly. The pair wordlessly passed a sheet of paper between each other to write the lyrics, inspired by Højbjerg and Mosegård, the woods they were sitting in. “How long should I wait/Before the moss grows?/On my skin, on my outstretched arms,” the lyrics are sung in a round, the close harmonies delicate and detailed.

A central thesis of this album is the joy of creation, something which is paid homage to in the album’s final track, “Science And Art” (Not because we need it to last/just because we needed to make it - so we invented the words/this language). It is also reflected in the definition that Jayne gives for “folk” itself. She comments, “To me, folk is quite an expansive idea. I think of it as creative work that's often made ad-hoc, with things that are at hand and more often than not it's born of a DIY ethos. It is songs and stories of the people, as in the traditional sense, but also creative coding, game design etc. Whatever outlet someone has for their creative expression could be described as folk. It's the things we make because humans need to make things, and the stories we tell about ourselves and the world around us.”
Crucially, on latest album RPG, Dent expands her songwriting and looks towards the unreal locations of worldbuilding in video games for inspiration. She comments, “I think the main similarity is the importance of a song's setting/environment to inform its narrative and textures, I'm often most inspired when out walking in the natural landscape, in cities and travelling to places I've never been before - the environment I'm in really impacts the work I make. While writing this album, however, I found myself inspired by imaginary landscapes, those in video games, paintings, etc. I was writing stories into these unreal locations instead. Even the songs inspired by real places, like The Oldest Trees Hold the Earth, have a very surreal quality to them in the songs, like they're being warped and turned into something not of this world. I think that's the main difference for me in terms of the thematic content and inspiration behind this album - I've been getting more and more interested in balancing surreal and fantastical environmental elements with ordinary and everyday settings.”
RPG upends the concept of the eternal return - we may be in the midst of inevitable repetition, but we tell stories whilst awaiting the passage of time.
"Being familiar with, and a fan of Jayne's earlier work, it was great to get the opportunity to work with her on the production of her new record. I had in mind a sense of what the record might be, but what came of the sessions, led by the vision Jayne had for the record, totally exceeded my expectations. As far as albums go, it has a breadth of writing and a sonic depth that made it a truly brilliant record. Having Jayne join us on a leg of the Pigs x7 tour in April is going to be ace. The creative nature, the sincerity and bold strokes of ME LOST ME put it in that space outside of any genre pigeonholes, and between our two sets I imagine the audience is going to have a proper sonic bath..."
Sam Grant, Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, 2023
“The music of Me Lost Me is beguiling, idiosyncratic and cinematic - or should that be video-game-omatic? This suite of songscapes often hits the sweet spot between ancient and modern with its masterful blend of stark folk, neon electronic burbling and unusual arrangements. Jayne's singing is refreshingly straightforward and nuanced - it's exquisite! - and perfectly punctures the nebulae of synths and brass which billow around the old wooden frames of the songs. Whilst listening I had images in my mind of what Northumberland might look like through the eyes of Simon Stalenhag - foggy moors, a robot looking across the sea to Lindisfarne, twinkling lights on metal towers.... that sort of thing. It's a really great album.”
Richard Dawson, 2023

Loek Frey's Add Interaction is an exercise in damp, eerie atmospherics and intricate drum patterns. Released through Omen Wapta, the Dutch producer gets experimental through drum and bass, IDM and breakbeat deconstructed with unexpected tempo shifts and effects. Produced during the pandemic, the EP conjures loneliness, solitude and unfamiliarity. Expect tunneling, meditative, low-end structures fit for a journey through the earth's layers down to its core. And expansive, pearlescent vocals evoking spiritual bodies. Soundscape-leaning IDM weave into polyrhythms and muted breakbeats. Frey's release positions him as a teacher of brooding textures. The unpredictability can draw you deep into the sonic abyss -- if you let it.

Martinou lands on Nous'klaer Audio with his debut album RIFT. Emerging from a waking forest entranced by sun-rays reflected in the morning dew and the sound of rustling leaves in the rising wind. RIFT is a captivating road through the riddles of an imaginary landscape, full of noisy and organic textures bound by hypnotic and soothing melodies. From the calm opener of Absorption (Citywide) to the breathtaking Cirrus Apparition, and from the piercing tones of Velvet back to the closing act ...in all it's splendor. An album consisting of twelve tracks for every moment, a triple vinyl suited for warming up and tearing down a dancefloor, but best listened to from start to finish. Artwork by Romee van Oers. Including download code.

Kite Hill Records founder City Kudu offers up the first release on new Manchester based Label – Access Memory.

The new imprint will focus on droning textures & quick percussive numbers – showcased by 4 high energy cuts from the London-based producer.

The turbocharged Boosted EP from Washington DC's Jackson Ryland drops in Peach Discs. Inspired by the multi-faceted work of hyper-prolific producers such as Paul Johnson, Heiko Laux, K-Hand, Aubrey & Cari Lekebusch, Boosted's four tracks highlight the various layers that make up Jackson's sound, and confirm him as a thrilling and versatile producer whose deep understanding of dance music's history informs his firmly present approach to production.

Recorded between 2018 and 2022, Boosted splits the difference between the booming drums and trippy synth patterns of "Glass Cut" and "Hyp Gruuv," and the complex, evolving textures of "Boosted" and "Lip," the latter representing a side not often heard in Jackson's output to date. Taken as a whole, the EP fits into the long lineage of DC-based music - one defined by an effortless flexibility to flip between emotions while never forsaking the groove.

This is the 2nd release of the year on Shanti Celeste and Gramrcy's Peach Discs.

Obsessive tekno/grime experiment from London's lostdomain producer Leeway following the great great Krevet EP. Very compatible with ~160 BPM hardtek/trance. Grainy desaturated claustrophobic sound progressing to full, crisp and dreamy with alien salival textures...

Whole album varies on two or three circling themes. Super zoney and subdued and spiritual but then jumps right out of the speakers with violence.

Born of a thousand nights lost in a surrender to stillness and contemplation, In The Air is Anna St. Louis’ second full length album and her most considered work yet. St. Louis’ debut If Only There Was a River seemed to emerge fully formed out of the recesses of her mind; a gritty, mesmerizing affair, filled with jagged edges and ghostly apparitions. The type of record that announces a new voice; one haunted by what has come before.

But this time, St. Louis is no longer concerned with what could have been and sets her sights to exploring what could be. It’s an outlook on the world that was formed when her immediate one was small. The intervening years since her last album found St. Louis in a small one-bedroom cabin in the middle of the woods of upstate New York with a new love and time to think of what she wanted to express with her music. For weeks on end, the only trips she took were to and from her job as the front desk clerk at a nearby hotel. The previous years she had spent on tour and performing constantly in the venues of Los Angeles felt like they had occurred in another lifetime.

“It really compelled me to surrender to the unknown,” she says. And in this surrender, she found liberation. St. Louis is more self-assured, open-hearted and ready to say what she wants. St. Louis describes the writing period as one of a slow harvest; a fertile time but one that required a newfound patience. Instead of documenting her first thoughts, she spent more time with each song, going deeper with the themes and ideas she wanted to express.

This slower approach also guided the sonic textures of the album. Working with producer Jarvis Taveniere (Purple Mountains, Woods) in two extended recording sessions in Los Angeles in 2021, St. Louis used the studio in a previously unexplored way, opening up her songs to more experimentation featuring brighter tones and a more orchestral sound to accompany her new perspective. To that end, she was aided by a cast of friends and collaborators including Jess Williamson, Kacey Johansing, Oliver Hill (Kevin Morby, Vagabon) on strings, Alex Fischel (Spoon) on piano, Josh Adams on drums (Bedouine, Tim Heidecker) and Keven Lareau (Cut Worms, Hand Habits).

In the Air has the sound of a joyous consideration of the present moment; a quiet morning revealing a new snowfall outside, steam coming from the kettle, just before it whistles, St. Louis with her guitar, staring out the window, with a few free hours before work. She’s reflecting on the scene in front of her, imagining the times yet to come. You can hear it; she’s a long way from the noisy bars of Los Angeles, the rigors of the road. As she intones in “Rest”: “You spend your whole life believing in the chase. And then you realize that being somewhere doesn’t matter like it used to.” She doesn’t need a river to carry her anymore ... She’s in the air.

Lewis Taylor's legendary magnum opus: The Lost Album. "Now you're talking. That's my favourite LT album. Unlike all of the others, there isn't anything about it that embarrasses me." Straight from the genius's mouth. What can we say about this? Well, it's the most requested record ever at Be With Towers. The Lost Album was the intended follow-up to his first album but Island rejected it for fear of "confusing" the marketplace and its conception of Lewis as a soul artist. Their loss. It's a breezy sunset masterpiece.

The genesis of this incredible record needs unpicking a bit. Lewis stopped promoting the first album after a year and went home to record a completely different record that was the most un-R&B album you could probably ever hear: "I pushed in such an extreme direction the other way with what eventually became The Lost Album. It was a knee-jerk reaction to a perceived ‘trapped in R&B’ feeling I was going through at the time. Some people around me were in favour of it and others weren’t. In the end I think I lost confidence in it and did Lewis II instead." We did at least get Lewis II, which is a remarkable album, and he kept Island happy...for a bit. Not long after, Lewis was dropped. And what was to become The Lost Album could've been...er...lost. Forever.

Thankfully, however, Lewis and longtime partner Sabina Smyth revisited those scrapped demo tracks in 2003. They decided to re-arrange, re-record and then self-release them. So it was that the brand new version of The Lost Album finally dropped in late 2004. It's sheer perfection, and we don't say that lightly. The Lost Album was a fully 50/50 collaboration between Lewis and Smyth. As well as production, Sabina did a lot more writing on it, from the melody to "Listen Here" to the chord sequence for "Let's Hope Nobody Finds Us." Thankfully, Sabina is credited this time around.

No, it's not straight up "soul music" in the vein of his previous work. Yet, in its perfectly formed suite of one dozen songs, The Lost Album is dripping in soul. It's so warm, so effervescent and so alive with possibilities. It features deep, fresh imprints on well-loved, accessible sounds. It's a proper 70s style double album. Just one listen and the musical influences on The Lost Album are fairly self-explanatory, as Lewis recently told us, but it's always nice to hear that, in case we were in any doubt, he was definitely channeling Love, Yes, Brian Wilson, CSN, Laura Nyro and, of course, Todd Rundgren. The influences don't end there: "I’m particularly fond of my bass playing on that album, there’s a lot of Chris Squire going on which is cool."

Deep orchestral opener "Lost" is a sublime, harp-laced, string drenched gem, a cinematic, melancholic Axelrod-esque mini-epic that simply beguiles. Written by Smyth, it evokes Donny Hathaway's celestial "I Love The Lord, He Heard My Cry" from Extensions Of A Man. The only problem is the brief 90 seconds running time. It segues into the classic Brian Wilson-meets-power-pop-rock splendour of "Listen Here" which, with its outstanding extended harp-licked beatless intro, sounds like the younger cousin to Boston's "More Than A Feeling". We then drift into the ringing guitars of classic 70s rock anthem "Hide Your Heart Away". It's Lewis's personal favourite, "especially the multi-tracked guitar solo – I was listening to Boston at the time, which was fun." A-ha!

A new version of the heart-stopping, shoulda-been-a-massive-pop-hit "Send Me An Angel" opens Side B before the arrival of, in Lewis's completely correct words, "the clear standout, "Leader of the Band"; the perfect distillation of everything that album was trying to achieve." Soaring, piano-led Rundgren-esque power pop that makes the hairs on the back of your next stand on end. Truly, otherworldly. This is pure pop for now (and then) people. The simple jangly brilliance meets experimental prog-rock of "Yeah" sounds like simultaneously like prime CSNY and late 90s Radiohead (if they'd had a slightly more accessible bent and could write better tunes).

Oh, you wish The Beach Boys had continued writing amazing songs beyond Holland? Well, allow us to point you in the direction of the downlifting stunner "Please Help Me If You Can" and the warm textures and brilliant atmospherics of goosebump-inducer "Let’s Hope Nobody Finds Us". Words can't really describe the sheer beauty of these songs. So we'll stop trying. Just listen. Listen, listen, listen. Closing out this remarkable side of music, the accidentally Balearic "New Morning" should be blasting out at every sunrise set in Ibiza, this summer and forevermore.

The final side opens with the vaguely Beatlesey "Say I Love You". It's just classic, soaring pop-rock songwriting and should strictly be canonical. It's that good. The sassy, Stonesy swagger of "See My Way" injects enough rock'n'roll attitude to compensate for the rest of record's peace-loving, AOR sun-dappled vibe whilst album closer, "One More Mystery", emerging out of the rubble of the previous track, comes on initially like a Baroque-Pop George Harrison before piling crunching drums and screeching guitar solos atop the dreamy harmonies til close.

When asked what it means to have these records available on vinyl for the first time, Lewis is in no doubt: "It’s great and it’s really nice to be able to offer fans a different listening experience. There’s a whole other dimension with vinyl that taps into that whole nostalgia thing, well for me anyway. Something about the physical aspect of pulling it out of the sleeve and putting it on, it does tend to make you feel like you’re more engaged."

Lewis was adamant that he wanted all new artwork for The Lost Album vinyl sleeve and his brief was just the sort of classic tropical-beach-at-sunset you’d want to see on the front of a record that sounds like this. On the finished sleeve, the beach at sunset is just where we start out, before heading up through the painterly clouds and heading out into the stars. And yes, the lettering is a definite subtle nod to all those in-between-period Beach Boys bootlegs we all love. Simon Francis's sensitive mastering combines with Cicely Balston's precise cut for Alchemy at AIR Studios so the album sounds appropriately outstanding. The immaculate Record Industry double LP pressing will ensure this previously lost masterpiece stays forever found.

American Football (LP3) is the third album from the scene giants - American Football. American Football’s original triumph, on their 1999 self-titled debut, was to reunite two shy siblings: emo and post-rock. It was a pioneering album where lyrical clarity was obscured and complicated by the stealth musical textures surrounding it. Like Slint’s Spiderland, or Codeine’s The White Birch, even Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock, American Football asked far more questions than it cared to answer. But there wasn’t a band around anymore to explain it, anyway. The three young men who made the album – Mike Kinsella, Steve Holmes, and Steve Lamos – split up pretty much on its release. Fifteen years later, American Football reunited (now as a four-piece, with the addition of Nate Kinsella). They played far larger shows than in their original incarnation and recorded their long-anticipated second album, 2016’s American Football (LP2). The release was widely praised, but the band members still felt like their best work was yet to come. ‘I feel like the second album was us figuring it out,’ says Nate. ‘For me, it wasn’t quite done. I knew there was still more.’ Enter American Football (LP3). ‘We put a lot of time and a lot of energy into it,’ says Mike. ‘We were all thoughtful about what we wanted to put out there. Last time, it was figuring out how to use all of our different arms. This time, we were like – Ok we have these arms, let’s use them.’ The band used the same producer, Jason Cupp, and recorded the album at the same studio (Arc Studios in Omaha, Nebraska) as its predecessor – yet they approached it in a markedly different way. There was a determination to let the songs breathe, to trust in ideas finding their own pace. The final result is a definite, and deliberate, stretching of the band.

Reformed Society joins the roster of Brussel's, Belgium's Basic Moves this June with a 2x12'' EP, comprising six original compositions from the New Delhi born now Barcelona based artist. After many years sharing music, Basic Moves boss Walrus welcomes Indian artist Harsh Puri onto the imprint for a special double pack vinyl release. The material was gradually reduced down to the six compositions that make up BM19 after received over a hundred demo tracks from Harsh the past few years.

Much of the release is inspired by UK tech house of the late nineties and the turn of the millennium and embraces a heads down, dance floor focused aesthetic throughout.

Opening the release is 'Constant State Of Hustle', perfectly setting the tone with an amalgamation of bubbling synthesizer tones, a choppy bass groove, sporadic pads and a heavily swung drum groove. 'Touch' then shifts focus over to fluttering stab sequences, bright chords, airy strings and a crunchy rhythm section before 'Hammer The Keys' embraces the core essence of the early Tech House sound, fusing organic percussion with multilayered machine funk melodies, all infused with an underlying acid feel.

Next up is 'Hug Pit' which dives into deep realms via ethereal, cinematic pad textures, wandering resonant synth lines and shuffled drums. The aptly named 'Adrenaline Rush' follows next, picking up the pace again courtesy of a gnarly bass melody, squelchy synth tones and a robust drum machine workout. 'Dream Shuttle' then rounds out the release, employing hazy atmospheric textures and a bumpy bass groove alongside dynamic, crisp drums.

Richie Culver had been waiting his whole life to record I was born by the sea. His debut album immediately and messily inscribed the artist into the canon of outsider music and experimental electronics, serving both as an arresting statement of intent and a painful reckoning with the difficult path that lead up to it, stealing one last glance back at a place he always knew he had to escape. Between grim lamentations, faded memories and anxiety attacks, all told with searing honesty and disarming openness, I was born by the sea excavates a space for hope, finding Culver digging through Humberside silt to find a world weary optimism, the raw material from which his visual and sound art is shaped. For this collection of expansions and inversions, Culver invites a collection of kindred spirits, contemporary inspirations and old heroes to wade into the salt water of his formative years spent living for impromptu raves and afterparties, connecting vivid memories of his birth place of Withernsea to artists hailing from as nearby as Preston and Bridlington, further afield, from Manchester and London, Berlin and Paris, before returning back to Hull, to where it all began.

For some, responding to I was born by the sea means diving even deeper into the record’s furthest reaches. Space Afrika clear away the pummelling loops of noise from ‘It’s hard to get to know you,’ revealing a cool and cavernous expanse in its wake. Distant chatter, previously heard as though through thin, plasterboard walls, now echoes from outside the maddening claustrophobia of the original’s Sisyphean sonics, illuminated as a dense storm cloud suspended amidst a more open scene, washed clean by a lighter rain, allowing the tender heart of the track to beat clear. London producer MOBBS stretches out ‘Pigeon Flesh’ into an epic, 10-minute, cold-sweat spiral, strung-out tension wrung from disconnected phone tones twisted in unexpected directions, snatches of Culver’s voice turned inside-out and deep fried bass threatening to tip the track over into oblivion, the build-and-release of a nervous breakdown experienced in real time. In an act of subversive self-reflection, Morgane Polanski switches one kind of ennui for another in her adaption of ‘I was born by the sea,’ swapping the sea for the city, English seaside towns in January for summer evenings in Paris and flashing lighthouses and sparkling oil rigs for the Eiffel Tower and the traffic around L’Arc de Triomphe. Even Culver finds time to revisit ‘Dream About Yourself,’ a track taken from his EP Post Traumatic Fantasy, breathing new words into its glacial drift, the half-remembered testimony of a shut-in: Woke up in the evening / Pray for me / Don’t trust anyone / Pray for algorithm. Reframed in a more melancholy light, the track’s reverberant keys even more clearly evoke a mournful nostalgia, fresh pain felt in old wounds.

Others find a parallel universe in Culver’s visceral world building. Rainy Miller flips the script with a scorched, avant-drill rework of ‘Daytime TV’, threading puncturing hi-hats and queasy low-end surge through the track’s steady ambient cascade, invoking the irresistible Preston beat magic of Miller’s own essential debut album, Desquamation. Aho Ssan melts away the crystalline textures of ‘Love Like an Abscess’ with the ominous crackle of a nascent fire, building through swathes of organic Max/MSP squelch and brittle, nails-down-chalkboard scrape, swelling and metastasising the original to spill over Culver’s desperate hymn to corporeal desire, at once flesh and not. Teresa Winter transports us an hour up the coast from Withernsea to her native Bridlington, replacing the sea wall of synthesis on ‘Nervous Energy’ with muffled ASMR murk and fever dream whispers, transforming Culver’s unflinching observations into a haunting call-and-response, filling in the blanks with her own eerie utterances, a fleeting conversation with a ghost. In a touching victory lap, Fila Brazillia, eccentric stalwarts of beloved ‘90s trip hop imprint Pork Recordings, whose performances at Hull institution The Lamp convinced a young Culver of the necessity to make his mark on club culture, resurface for their first remix in 20 years. Steve Cobby and David McSherry lead a low-slung, heartfelt stroll back through a suite of tracks from I was born by the sea, tracing a full circle saunter from Culver’s origins to his current musical practice, the sounds of his present repurposed by the sound of his youth. In a gesture that reflects the emotional complexity of the project, Fila Brazillia find joy at the end of Culver’s troubled reflection, picking out an undeniable groove in the stasis of feeling trapped in your hometown. Underlining Hull’s vital musical legacy, from Baby Mammoth to Throbbing Gristle, Cobby and McSherry demonstrate that, though there are certainly storms, by the sea there is also sun and through the fog, if you listen, you can hear a singular sound, a sound now carried by Richie Culver.

Participant is a record label and creative studio run by William Markarian-Martin and Richie Culver

In the quiet surrounding the pandemic, Madeline Kenney made sonic sketches in the basement studio she shared with her then-partner. She arranged phrases that called her—the sharp knife of a synth cutting a path along a blooming arpeggio, drums stuttering firm and tight. Working this way, she amassed a collection of songs she had no particular aims for. Some formed her 2021 EP Summer Quarter, others languished.

But in 2022, Kenney’s partner left suddenly and without warning, plunging her into the solitary act of untangling what happened. In the wake of her ensuing depression, she revisited these songs and found in them something prescient. She’d already laid the foundation for A New Reality Mind.

That her relationship’s end came without warning is only half true, though. The warnings were in the feelings and fears that inspired Kenney’s critically-acclaimed third album, Sucker’s Lunch (2020), which was co-produced by Jenn Wasner (Flock of Dimes) and centered around the idea of flinging oneself freely into the seemingly-assured destruction of new love, come what may.

If sonically Sucker’s Lunch was letting yourself be pulled into the warm bath of a good story, A New Reality Mind reflects the harsh light of truth coming to break the spell. But as sobering as morning light can be, there’s brilliance to it, too. To see in the clarity of day is a gift. A revolution. Rather than reckoning with love lost, the songs on A New Reality Mind grapple with the self that chose to fall. “I guess I only needed to look twice / Reflected in my attitude, my constant compromise,” Kenney sings on “Red Emotion,” the musical landscape screeching and gasping around her observations of how she made herself small to keep the dream of love alive.

These notions of sight and vision pervade the record as Kenney stands before the infinity mirror of selves she’s been to preserve bonds in her life. On “I Drew a Line,” Kenney contends with the stories she’s told herself to keep plodding along, and the way those stories shape her perceived reality. She invokes John Berger’s Ways of Seeing—“Everything around the image is part of its meaning,” we hear him say. “Everything around it confirms and consolidates its meaning.” Here, Kenney isn’t interested in shaming herself for being carried away by the fantasies of the heart, but rather in investigating the unavoidably human propensity to do so. “I, like everyone else, am muddling through my most ordinary disaster of a life,” she acknowledges, a sentiment which reverberates through album opener “Plain Boring Disaster.” “I don’t need to start again,” she sings at the song’s close. “But I can change when it ends.” We may all be doomed to repetitive, ordinary heartbreaks, Kenney realizes, but at least we can cultivate a capacity to witness our missteps and build new realities for ourselves.

This is Kenney’s most expansive work, while also her most solitary. Produced and recorded alone in her basement, these songs are manifestations of what it feels like to be transformed by pain. Textures collide and collude; sonic ornaments emerge and dissipate capriciously; saxophones soar untamed, as on the 80s pop elegy to self-sacrifice, “Reality Mind”. These songs beg you to dance, then pull the rug out from under you once you’ve caught the beat, leaving you dizzy like the whiplash of love’s end.

But in the propulsive power of A New Reality Mind, there’s also acceptance, self-forgiveness, and a willingness to move forward into life, with all its ways of making a sucker of you. “That way of living, I’m over it,” Kenney declares of the habits that hold her back on “Superficial Conversation”. “I do not need to be reminded of what I did,” she assures, the song opening wide and beaming, like a smile expanding to taste a new breath of air.