quête:the drum

The drum makes a round. Metallic tones come back to check if anything has changed. People step aside, all pretending calm while the bodies are tightened. The drum makes another round, and returns back breathing hard.

Tucked in the heart of Koreatown, Los Angeles, lies The Libra Hotel—the titular architecture of Nick Malkin's new album and site of his musical and psychogeographic exploration. Unlike most musical "site-specific" studies, Malkin remains wholly ambivalent to the documentarian approach, instead sharpening an auteur-like focus on the site as a conceptual and highly expressive backdrop. The Libra is musically explored as a space that houses a noir fragmentation of identity—the exhausted trope of a complicated protagonist walking through rain-soaked street corners and fumy neon lights—where an inner monologue is rendered in both miniature and at a cosmic scale. Casting aside stifling tropes around field recording, ambient, and improvised music, Malkin's work finds its own unique fidelity and emotional core through the assembly and reassembly of memory. Nearly every sound on the album—from frayed saxophones, lambent pianos, and dissected jazz drum kits—are multiplied, shattered, and reconstituted into shapes that adorn The Libra in a motion-blurred fog. The narrative of the Hotel suddenly appears as if out of the mist, with intersecting characters interacting within its walls by happenstance. Adminst the languid set pieces, wraith-like sonic grains gravitate around wide subbass beams that give structural form to The Libra, a narrative tension like when a scene is shot from hundreds of different perspectives: an image both luminous and veiled.

Much like Frank Sinatra's own spatial residency immortalized on "Live at The Sands," "At The Libra Hotel" showcases an exuberant view of entertainment, hospitality, and a form of masculinity, one that can quickly detourn into darkness. Knowing this, Malkin extracts a melancholic core out of The Libra locale. The flickering shadows of American decadence are shown in their ephemeral honesty, lines that trace how even in everyday life virtue is tested, sanity is tested, even reality is tested within the confines of desire, within the night. The album is draped in fleeting textures, carefully arranged with a trance-like microtonality, the faint inflections and articulations of a jazz band cascading into dissipated stillness. Voicemails about changed locations and covert eavesdropping on guests' whispered conversations provide an atmosphere of missed connection and voyeurism—a purloined letter of desire receding into a vanishing point. Like the music itself, The Hotel, a chapel perilous at the intersection of desolation row, the center of it all, yet simultaneously at the edge of town, becomes a structure between libidinous virtuality and actuality—our inevitable half-light.

Ultimately, the pensive atmosphere of "At The Libra Hotel," powerfully asserts a plea for the kinds of intimacy only possible in transient spaces. Here, memory cascades into a force that feels like something supernatural, perhaps even religious, yet always subject to the infidelity of our imagination. Here, the album opens into its primary psychodrama, the transient nature of subjectivity itself and how this becomes fractured in the tumult between our commitments and desires. Within this nocturnal space, to quote Louise Bourgeois, "you pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture."

Dewa Alit, master of radical Balinese gamelan, returns to Black Truffle with Baur Bentur. Genetic (2020, BT063) introduced international listeners to the magical sound-world of Alit’s Gamelan Salukat, who perform on instruments tuned to a unique scale derived from modified versions of two traditional Balinese scales. The two pieces heard on Chasing the Phantom (2022, BT093) further demonstrated his radical fusion of tradition and experimentation, with passages where unorthodox techniques make the acoustic ensemble resemble glitching electronics. Baur Bentur now highlights another aspect of Alit’s work, presenting pieces composed in 2024 and 2025 where Gamelan Salukat performs alongside virtuoso pianist Sri Hanuraga. Alit’s music is grounded in deep reflection on the tradition of Balinese gamelan and its place in the contemporary world. His title, ‘Baur Bentur’, which translates as ‘mixing and smashing’, points to his embrace of the intercultural mixture of Eastern and Western elements in the search for innovation. Against the calcification of Balinese music into tourist entertainment, Alit poses his searching, experimental work, which celebrates the communal values and performance practices of traditional gamelan while pushing into startling new directions.

‘Sukat Tacara’ is a study in layered tempos, meters, and polyrhythms, a constantly shifting dialogue between piano and the instruments of Gamelan Salukat. It begins close to a traditional concerto, pairing a brisk sequence of melodic variations from the piano with a spare but propulsive accompaniment of drums and hanging metallophone tones, punctuated by low gong strikes. The piano builds in volume and density across a rapid succession of fragments, at points recalling George Antheil’s ticking wind-up machinery, though Hanuraga’s jazz background shines through in the fluidity with which he navigates the complexities of the score, where chromatic movement co-exists with bluesy phrases. An abrupt change in the piano to patterns of dense clusters introduces a new episode, during which the metallic instruments of the gamelan enter the foreground. The piece dazzles with its inventive rhythms and dynamics, building to a stunning passage featuring the signature heavy muting technique of the Gamelan Salukat metallophones in kinetic patterns that would be at home on a Príncipe release.

The title piece begins at high intensity and rarely lets up, working through bracing unison ensemble melodies and punctuation points where piano and gamelan together seem to become a single, thudding drum. For much of the piece the piano is tightly integrated into the ensemble, the harmonic extensions of the melodic line subsumed into a moving cloud of complex overtones generated by the gamelan instruments. Wildly kinetic on the rhythmic level, the piece swarms with microscopic movements of beating patterns generated by the ‘blend and crush’ of three simultaneous tuning systems: the equal temperament of the piano and the saih cenik (small scale) and saih gede (big scale) used by the gamelan instruments. Accompanied by the composer’s thoughtful liner notes and images of the musicians, Baur Bentur is a stunning next step in Alit’s radical combination of tradition and innovation.

180g Heavy double vinyl LP with liner notes by Tyran Grillo. Limited Japanese Obi for the first pressing. Original artwork by Russell Mills and photography by Jean-Baptiste Mondino.

The third Time Capsule is a body of dub reinterpretations by celebrated producer Bill Laswell of Ethiopian singer Gigi. Curated by Tokyo record collector, music researcher and seasoned reissue supervisor Ken Hidaka, it is the first time Illuminated Audio is pressed to vinyl after its CD release in 2003.

Ejigayehu Shibabaw was born in 1974 in Chagni, northwestern Ethiopia and by pursuing a career as a singer, went against her father’s strict, traditional gender roles. As Gigi, she embraced the same musical freedom she had strived for in her personal life, incorporating the Ethiopian church, funk, hip-hop, West and South African music into her work. She first settled in Nairobi, then Addis Ababa, where she quickly established herself as one of the city’s leading singers. A move to San Francisco in 1998 led to a long and fruitful creative partnership with bassist and producer Bill Laswell.

Around the same time, Chris Blackwell had stepped away from Island Records to start the art house film company and label Palm Pictures. He took an interest in Gigi and together with Laswell, pulled together an all-star cast of musicians for her self-titled US debut album, including Herbie Hancock, Pharoah Sanders and Wayne Shorter. It won international critical acclaim, not just for its musicianship but for making Gigi a “defining voice for the Ethiopian expatriate community”, as journalist Tyran Grillo praises in his Time Capsule liner notes. From the nation-defining 1896 victory over Italian invaders to the quiet revolutionaries who wear simple shemma garments, Grillo believes the themes in Gigi make it “a shower of sunlight on her homeland for those ignorant of its struggles.”

After its success, Blackwell encouraged them to go back into the studio to rethink the album and Illuminated Audio was born. “Anyone can make a voice sound worldly”, Grillo remarks, “but rare are those who can make one sound inner-worldly.” Gigi was clear with Laswell to give her vocals a minor role “because it’s already been done.” Instead her Amharic verse is fleeting, exhaling through the textures like ghostly fragments; soaring yet muted. Yet the album is still titled under her name, an assertion by Laswell of her central role in the album’s creation. Not only was it a fully endorsed project by Gigi, but she would be present throughout its development, giving feedback on half-finished ideas as Laswell played them back in the studio. “It works perfectly”, she reflected after the album’s release. “We wanted to capture the whole spirit of each track, and Bill’s remixes create a different music language that really puts you in a pleasant place”.

This new vocabulary takes its lead from a technical approach that Laswell had been perfecting during a furtive creative period at the turn of the millennium. Much like his ambient interpretations of Miles Davis (Panthalassa, 1998), Bob Marley (Dreams of Freedom, 1997), and Carlos Santana (Divine Light, 2001), Laswell approached Illuminated Audio by returning to the original multitrack masters. Gigi wasn’t just reworked, but recomposed into an expansive lattice of instruments, submerged in a watery ambience of dub and trance undercurrents.

Sonically, this new language that Gigi refers to, is manifested by the original album’s more understated parts being pushed to the fore. Explaining his contrasting methods, Laswell saw Gigi as being “put together in a way that fits”. Contrastingly, in Illuminated Audio, “a lot of things that I featured in the remix weren’t as audible in the original.” Instrumentation laying near-dormant, deep in the mix, are brought to the fore: the acid rock guitar and Wayne Shorter’s saxophone on ‘Tew Ante Sew’, Graham Haynes’ flugelhorn on ‘Nafekeñ’, Laswell’s bass on ‘Kahn’, the melodica in Mengedegna or the floating synths and talking drums in ‘Gud Fella’.

Brought to his attention by mentor DJ Nori, Hidaka describes Illuminated Audio as a “masterful sonic exploration into ethereal ambience and dub” and made sure this reissue also contained a full remaster to give its “deep musicality” much better dynamics and density in the overall sound. Hidaka admits that Laswell's music “is sometimes so out-there, it is often misunderstood” and, indeed, to dub album non-believers this might seem like a prolific producer imposing himself on another artist’s work; eternally developing rearrangements that never quite get to its destination. But that’s missing its true power and triumph. This is more than the reissue of a remix, but “a wholly unique musical entity”, as Hidaka describes. Illuminated Audio refers to the illuminated manuscripts that comprise the major part of Ethiopian art and its new compositions stand in proud solitude as a rare body of reworks that both informs and enhances their originals.

Ten years ago, Anderson .Paak didn't just release an album; he staged a full-scale takeover of the soul and hip-hop landscape. Released on January 15, 2016, Malibu served as the definitive arrival of an artist who had spent years grinding in the underground before a star-making turn on Dr. Dre’s Compton. While his previous work hinted at his potential, Malibu was the moment the world met the "Cheeky Andy" persona in full—a virtuosic drummer, a raspy-voiced crooner, and a sharp-witted rapper all rolled into one. The album is a sprawling, sun-drenched journey through the Southern California coast, blending 1970s funk, church-reared gospel, and gritty boom-bap into something that feels both nostalgic and entirely futuristic. With a heavyweight production lineup including 9th Wonder, Madlib, Kaytranada, and Hi-Tek, the record maintains a warm, analog texture that was a breath of fresh air in an increasingly digital era. It’s an album that breathes, full of intentional imperfections and the kind of "in-the-pocket" groove that can only come from a seasoned live performer. Beyond the infectious, dance-floor-ready energy of tracks like "Am I Wrong" and "Come Down," the album is a deeply autobiographical masterwork. .Paak uses the 65-minute runtime to unpack his life story with startling clarity, touching on his mother’s gambling addiction, his father’s incarceration, and his own brushes with homelessness with a sense of resilience that never feels heavy-handed. He weaves these heavy themes through a lens of triumph, grounded by vintage surfing documentary samples that give the project its cinematic, coastal atmosphere. It’s a celebratory record born out of struggle, anchored by his impeccable technicality on the drums and a guest list—featuring ScHoolboy Q, Rapsody, and The Game—that feels hand-picked to complement his specific brand of West Coast swagger. A decade later, Malibu stands as a modern classic and the blueprint for the soulful revivalism that would eventually lead .Paak to global superstardom and Grammy-winning heights. It remains a testament to the idea that the most profound music often comes from the most personal places, proving ten years on that the best way to move forward is to stay rooted in the groove.

Always lurking amidst the underground Porto music scene is Spitbender, the most stable moniker of the ever-morphing Francisco Antão. Spin gathers a collection of tracks that demonstrate his experimentalism & coy sonic precision. Spitbender takes cues from Jungle & Hip Hop producers to create his own unique blend of Downtempo. What becomes clear throughout the album is the attention to detail: it is infused as much by Industrial's red-line spectra as it is by the dubplate logic of the Darkside Continuum, yet it does so at its own tripped out speed.

Spin begins with the laid-back but constantly shifting 'Global Overgroove'. Its breakbeat science moves in & out of DSP glitch-work & dub reflections. When its slinky bassline melody arrives, a certain dread sets in.

'Weyward Fold' drops into a driving, hard-edged chug, threaded with snippets of Malcolm X's disobedient pedagogy. The momentum carries into 'Headnod Doctor', where the bass distortion thickens & the cymbal circuit is overloaded, landing somewhere between Hip‑Hop grit & metal weight.

Side A ends with the downtempo roller 'Dogs and Moles (Skylurk Mix)'. The familiar break drifts into new territory, pulled along & wrapped in a slap-back echo. A quirky melody cuts through the haze, giving the track a fresh tilt. The mulch of the track forms a steady, unhurried pulse.

Spitbender's spacious atmospherics & groove-focused approach comes further into focus on 'Nothing Here But the Recordings'. Creating his own chapter in the book of Trip Hop, his minimalist touch is laid out in full.

'Force the Hand Ov Chance' pulls Boom Bap gently into dub mechanics, letting space do the heavy lifting. Its simplicity hides a deep pocket.

Returning to broken-up distortion, 'Mirrors of Flesh (Dub Mix)' finds Spitbender using the mixer as an instrument to push & pull the heavy drums of Benjamin Brejon of Méchanosphere alongside the voice of Rui intoning the title phrase.

Sitting between the album's two poles, 'Out Take Dub' fuses the clipped‑obsession timbres of Spin's heavier moments with its blissed out flow. Feedback & distortion are welcomed & drawn long.

In the end, Spin hits like a fully formed statement—lean, focused, & unmistakably Spitbender. Every track pushes its own angle, but together they land with a clarity that feels earned. It's a sharp marker in his trajectory, & it leaves a charge in the air.

Nobody knew. Not the crowd packed into Circolo Kessel that Sunday evening, not even the six musicians on stage. When Giardini di Mirò played on March 19, 2023, it was supposed to be just another homecoming show in Cavriago, the kind of night where you play for the people who’ve known you longest. Some were missing from the audience, though: “Our closest friends stayed home to watch the football match tonight,” Jukka quipped from the stage. “But that’s fine, we’ll deal with them tomorrow.” In hindsight, even Juventus fans who celebrated their 1–0 victory over Inter made the wrong choice.

Seventy minutes in, all the instruments converged into a one-chord riff, driven by the drums and punctuated by screaming guitars. A repetitive rhythm that paired brutal volume with hypnotic precision. Even those at the back of the room felt it: that trance-like state where sound becomes physical. Then the wall of sound collapsed. Guitar feedback lingered in the air for a few seconds before fading into nothing.

This was the last sound Giardini di Mirò made. They haven’t played since, and there are no plans to do so again. But in that moment, nobody knew.

The closing song that night was also the opener of their debut full-length, recorded more than two decades earlier. Its title, A New Start, carries an unintended irony the band would likely appreciate. It is also oddly fitting that their final show took place in the same building where they began. Circolo Kessel, previously known as Calamita, served as the band’s rehearsal space for many years. Yet since their rise to becoming one of Europe’s defining post-rock acts, they had never performed a concert there.

In a fortunate coincidence, Markus Mathis – a longtime fan who had recorded several of their shows before – also captured this final concert using two room microphones and a feed from the mixing desk.

Quasi Casa is the complete, unfiltered document of that night: an “official bootleg” spanning over 70 minutes of purely instrumental music, drawing on material from across their entire career, from the earliest releases to Del Tutto Illusorio. It captures, with striking clarity, the intensity that defined the band’s live performances.

Rather than simply uploading the recording and calling it a day, the band chose to assemble a physical release as a parting gift to their fans. The double LP includes a 16-page booklet with extensive liner notes and visual material.

W.R.F. was formed in 2015 by Nina and late studio partner Andrew Weatherall to help wrangle the vast output recorded together beyond his solo releases.
Spotlighting nine tracks from the Apparently Solo series of EPs recorded between 2016- 2019 and released on Bandcamp in 2023, this lustrous time capsule marks the culmination of Walsh and Weatherall’s creative relationship born after they clicked at London’s earliest acid house clubs, becoming partners then managers of their Sabres Of Paradise/Sabrettes labels before taking different paths by the late '90s.
An accomplished musician, Nina had learned the art of studio technology by the time they reunited and started working together in 2012. Created at her Facility 4 Studio situated in the dangerous, gang-ridden no man’s land between Streatham and Mitcham, Anamchara captures the super-prolific creative stretch starting in 2015 that produced Weatherall’s Convenanza and Qualia solo sets, W.R.F.’s The Phoenix Suburb (And Other Stories) plus a whole lot more. According to Nina, Andrew envisioned the spectacular ‘Borderland’ as natural successor to ‘Smokebelch’, his most revered track. When it came to his remix, Nina enlisted renowned viola virtuoso Sarah Sarhandi and composed new harmonies with Pachelbel’s Canon in D Minor in mind.
The set also catches the breakthrough period when, through Nina’s careful coaxing, Andrew started using the computer system she’d set up to better express his musical visions by arranging the elements, grooves and melodies she sent him. Still considered the UK’s greatest DJ-producer, Andrew’s arrangements were inspired by his club-igniting sets. “This allowed me to mix the colours for his palette whilst he was painting the picture,” says Nina. Anamchara straddles the gamut of musical styles explored by W.R.F. at this time, from slower paced psychedelic “drug chug” outings ‘We Two’. ‘Heat To Meat Ratio’, ‘Hidden Watchers Part 1’ to banging acid house and techno sometimes inspired by the violence outside the studio door, including ‘SCHLAP’, ‘Crack-Ed’ and churning acid juggernaut ‘Yacidik’ (“After much dangling of the acid carrot, Andrew took a bite and, after one familiar raised eyebrow, never looked back,” says Nina).
Many tracks fly elements from the enormous sonic library Nina inherited from late partner Erick Legrand that she called The Akashic Library of Sound. Marking Andrew’s 2016 admission into the vault, ‘Rattly Old Puffin’ boasts Erick’s psychedelic guitar and tumbling drum loop Weatherall would run with, including on ‘Borderland’. “Erick was like our third member,” says Nina.
Bringing down the curtain, ‘Alma’’s exquisitely poignant melody that unfolds over thirteen time-stopping minutes was composed by Nina while navigating Erick’s birth and departure date anniversaries to accompany Andrew’s reading from Gordon Burn’s 1991 same-named novel at 2018’s Durham Literary Festival. Burn’s novel imagines early 60s popstrel Alma Cogan, who succumbed to cancer in 1966 surviving to reflect on fame. “Now it just makes me think of Erick. And every time I hear those well-placed cymbal crashes I can only think of the Captain himself.”
A beautiful grand finale for this astonishing selection of pure gold from the vaults.
Kris Needs / 2026

Mr Bongo presents a reissue of one of the rarest releases on the illustrious and now ultra-rare tax scam label TSG Records. A label with a checkered past, operated by Lloyd Price and with alleged ties to boxing promoter Don King. The album in question, Disco Party by Reality, is a stunning journey through ‘70s dancefloor-focussed funk into early proto-disco grooves. Back in mid-‘70s Manhattan, Dr. Otto Gomez and a group of fellow New York musicians including Tony Dixon, Norman Drayton, Tony Dupree, Al Jones and Fred Nanton were brought in for a recording session by songwriter and producer, Billy Nichols. Laying down one of Nichols' songs and a selection of the group's own, they were paid as session musicians and thought little of it. The tapes came to the attention of Lloyd Price who struck a deal with Nichols unbeknownst to Gomez and the rest of the band. Price then pressed the album and put it out in 1976 on a newly formed subsidiary label, TSG Records, that would later be documented as one of the US tax scam labels of the ‘70s. Such labels were created to exploit a loophole in the US tax system, running up inflated production costs / losses that investors or the parent label could write off against their tax bills. Releases on these labels were never intended to have commercial success. They would usually be produced in incredibly limited pressing numbers and have little to no promotion or distribution. As such many of these records instantly fell into obscurity, becoming mythical amongst DJs and record collectors. Sadly, this meant that artists like Dr. Otto Gomez and friends never had the chance for their record and their talents to shine at the time. In fact, it was only when Jazzman reached out for their 2022 reissue that Dr. Otto Gomez became aware that the album had ever been released and heard the story behind it. Disco Party is a time capsule where ‘70s instrumental funk edges and intertwines into an early disco sound. The sessions are for the dancefloor, minimalist and groove-based. The bass and drums are at the forefront, providing the pulse of the album. Driving funky guitar licks, and a brilliant horn section weave their way in and out of the productions. Highlights include the uplifting feel-good ‘Let's Party People’, the early disco swagger of ‘Reality’, and ‘Disco Party (Let's Have A)’ with its wah-wah groove and percussion break, which could easily have found its home on a Blaxploitation film soundtrack of the period. It’s not just rarity that makes this record so sought after, but rather the fact that it is a superb example of dancefloor-focussed mid ‘70s funk and disco.

Al Wahem (“The Illusion”) is the new full-length release by PRAED, the Swiss–Lebanese duo of Raed Yassin and Paed Conca. Recorded between Beirut and Berlin, the album returns to the group’s central aesthetic: a rhythm-driven weave of Egyptian shaabi, electronics, improvisation and the gritty pulse of street-level sound. Nearly twenty years into the project, PRAED have distilled their approach into four pieces that subtly shift the listener’s bearings, reordering grooves and fragments until familiar elements take on new identities.
The twenty-minute title track sets the tone. A tightly interlocking two-drum foundation from Pascal Semerdjian and Ayman Zebdawi shapes a structure that expands steadily: synth figures branch outward, clarinet and bass lines act as internal guideposts, and brief vocal calls from Yassin and guest singer Mayssa Jallad sit inside the texture rather than leading it. PRAED’s shaabi keyboard language is present, but the duo stretch it outward, building tension and movement through patient accumulation.

“Al Hathayan,” at 4:46, tightens the focus. Conca’s clarinet moves between melodic arcs and clipped rhythmic gestures, threading through electronic loops that surface and disappear. Zebdawi’s percussion adds a raw, tactile quality, placing acoustic patterns and electronics in direct conversation. The piece acts as a bridge between the album’s two long-form compositions.
Side B begins with “Al Maraya,” a thirteen-minute piece that relies on electronic, bass and clarinet interplay. The atmosphere nods to the breadth of PRAED Orchestra!, but remains anchored in the duo’s rhythmic foundations. Rather than building mass, the layering creates a sense of depth, as if new spaces were opening inside the groove.
The album closes with “Assarab,” featuring keyboardist Amr Said. Semerdjian and Zebdawi again form a dual percussive axis, while synths hover between melody and pulse, and themes recur in widening circles rather than building vertically. The porous boundary between electronic and acoustic sources — processed clarinet mistaken for a sequencer, rhythmic figures springing from live drums — is where the album’s theme of “illusion” shows itself most clearly.

Al Wahem follows a long arc: early releases on Annihaya, a key appearance on Ruptured Sessions Vol. 5 – Live at Radio Lebanon (2013), later albums on Akuphone, and the large-scale PRAED Orchestra! documented on Morphine Records. This new Ruptured/Annihaya co-release brings the duo back to a concentrated format, reorganizing their familiar materials with renewed clarity and intent.

Since the early 2010s, photographer and producer Izaak Schlossman has been surreptitiously using the Topdown Dialectic moniker to frame his most enigmatic and most psychedelic productions: faceless pure sound experiments that ogled dub and techno archetypes from somewhere far beyond the veil. This generous 2LP collection surveys over a decade of persistent activity, pulling together recently unearthed gear written between 2013 and 2016 (the same time period as the iconic Peak Oil trilogy) and muddling it with more contemporary material. It's a rare chance to fully comprehend the slow, measured evolution of the project: its genesis as a method to fractalize various bass music frequencies with suggestion rather than over-compression, and its ongoing advancement through sensitively finessed ASMR ambiance towards spangled neo-psychedelia.

So it's no surprise that the lengthy suite of five-minute snapshots was initially devised while Schlossman was preparing for his first ever Topdown Dialectic live appearance in 2025. A hazed early morning, open air performance that's still lodged in the memory banks of anyone who witnessed it, the set provided the narrative anchor for the album, blurring the past and present and reaching tentatively into the future - ideal material for audiences whose brains are fully plasticized. The tracks, while divided, sound as if they're breathing over and into one another; beats and phrases materialize and dissolve just for moments, leaving the mind to fill in the gaps with any available sonic material. What might reflect the bright neon light of acid house at first soon embodies the flicker of a candle over a desk of drum machines in a Midwestern basement, or the first blush of sunlight over a tiny campground as subwoofers creak in the distance.

It's music that asks the listener to be involved in the creation itself, projecting their own shapes on the negative space, their discreet fantasies on haunted stretches of near silence. Schlossman's identity was never the point, Topdown Dialectic was always a scrying stone intended to divine far more personal revelations.

Repress of 2018’s classic compilation from Brownswood.

A primer on London’s bright-burning young jazz scene, this new compilation brings together a collection of some of its sharpest talents. A set of nine newly-recorded tracks, We Out Here captures a moment where genre markers matter less than raw, focused energy. Looking at the album’s running order, it could easily serve as a name-checking exercise for some of London’s most-tipped and hardworking bands of the past couple of years. Recorded across three long, fruitful days in a North West London studio, the crossover between each of the groups speaks to the close-knit circles which make up the scene.

Surveying the way that London’s jazz-influenced music had spread outside of its usual spaces in recent years, this album bottles up some of the vital ideas emanating from that burgeoning movement. Giving a platform to a scene where mutual cooperation and a DIY spirit are second-nature, it’s a window into the wide-eyed future of London’s musical underground.

Ubiquitous, much-lauded saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings is the project’s musical director. His own recent projects span from South Africa-connected, spiritually-minded jazz players Shabaka and the Ancestors to Sons of Kemet, who match diasporically-connected compositions with viscerally-direct live shows. His entry on the album, ‘Black Skin, Black Masks’, is typically difficult-to-define: with an off-kilter, shifting rhythmic backbone, repeated phrases – mirrored between clarinet and bass clarinet – shape the track with an alluring hue. His input ties together a deft, genre-agnostic sensibility that’s shared through all the players on the record.

Theon Cross – who’s also part of Sons of Kemet with Hutchings – starts his track, ‘Brockley’, with the solo, distinctive low rumble of his tuba. Winding and mesmeric, it sees tuba and sax lines winding together in rhythmic and melodic parallels. Ezra Collective – whose drummer and bandleader Femi Koleoso has toured with Pharaohe Monch – run a tight, Afrobeat-tipped rhythm on ‘Pure Shade’, with the final third changing gear into a melodic, momentous closing stretch.

Joe Armon-Jones, whose ludicrous chops on the piano have seen him touring with the likes of Ata Kak, showcases earworm-like, insistent motifs on ‘Go See’, balanced with a playful, improvisatory approach with room for ad-libbing and solos a-plenty. Taking a softer tact than many of the other entries, Kokoroko – whose guitarist Oscar Jerome has been making waves with his solo material – spin a lyrical, steady-paced meditation on ‘Abusey Junction’, matching chanted vocals with gently-played guitar.

Nodding to spiritual jazz influences, Maisha’s ‘Inside The Acorn’ is a wandering, explorative rumination, balancing delicate washes of piano and percussion with sharp interplay between flute and bass clarinet. In contrast, Nubya Garcia’s ‘Once’ is taut and carefully-poised, her tenor sax guiding a carefully-built energy to an explosive conclusion. And finally, Triforce’s ‘Walls’ is a performance in two parts: starting with Mansur Brown’s languorous, lyrical guitar, the second half switches up to a low-slung, g-funk-tipped groove.

At the beginning of the 1960s, at the Berklee College of Music, Byard Lancaster met some feisty friends: Sonny Sharrock, Dave Burrell and Ted Daniel. It is easy to see why he rapidly became involved in free jazz. Once he was settled in New York, he appeared on Sunny Murray Quintet, recorded under the leadership of the drum crazy colleague of Albert Ayler.

In 1968, the saxophonist and flutist recorded his first album under his own name: It’s Not Up To Us. The following year he came to Paris in the wake of... Sunny Murray. He would come back to France in 1971 (again with Murray) and in 1973 (without Murray for a change). This is when he met Jef Gilson, the pianist and producer who encouraged him to record under his own name again. On Palm Records (Gilson’s label), he would release four albums: Us, Mother Africa, Exactement and Funny Funky Rib Crib.

The recording of “Exactement” required two sessions in the studio: February 1st and May 18th 1974 – in between the two dates, Lancaster recorded, alongside Clint Jackson, the excellent Mother Africa. Two names appear on the cover of “Exactement”: Lancaster (Byard) and Speller (Keno). Byard Lancaster wanted to be precise, moving regularly from one instrument to another: first on piano, which was the first instrument he learned. On “Sweet Evil Miss Kisianga”, his inspiration is first and foremost Coltrane (even if leaning more towards Alice than John), this announces the storm to follow.

It is Lancaster’s horn-playing which really stands out: on alto (the sound of which is transformed by an octavoice on one track, "Dr. Oliver W. Lancaster") or soprano saxophones, as well as on flute or bass clarinet, the musician walks a tightrope making the most of all the risks he takes. Using the full register of his instruments, he has fun with the possibilities.

Then, Lancaster invokes or evokes Ornette Coleman, Eric Dolphy and even Prokofiev, before going into a danse alongside Keno Speller on percussion. Above all, he has a unique sound. Byard Lancaster, on whatever instrument he plays and by continually seeking, always ends up hitting the right note... ends up by playing exactement the note he had to play.

For its 30th anniversary, Kruder & Dorfmeister’s DJ-Kicks is available for the first time in mixed form on 3LP, remastered by Bernie Grundman and packaged in a special box set including original imagery. Kruder & Dorfmeister's rendition of the series created an era defining moment, which tied together a glowing array of musical registers. The Viennese downtempo royalty blended a fusion of slowed down moments across many genres with rolling Drum and Bass from the likes of Aquasky, the melting acid lines of deep Hardfloor and the 90s boom bap sampling, smoked out atmospherics of Thievery Corporation amongst many more.

These masters of mood channeled the sound of a moment with their DJ-Kicks, which still retains a certified cinematic sheen, the patina of the real – curation and mixing at its most playful and refined. It remains to this day one of the most recognizable DJ-Kicks and mixes of all time. Containing two certified cuts from K&D themselves; the wooze is strong on “High Noon” with Dorfmeister's intoxicating jazz flute licks and a trembling harmonica atop a mirage of breaks. Their DJ-Kicks original and legendary tune “Black Baby” closes the mix providing a piece of grandeur, riding off into the distance deep to the vanishing point.

When the mix dropped in 1996, the slo-beat pioneers were among the hottest producers in the dance universe. Even though they only produced two unreleased maxis, names like Count Basie, Bomb The Bass, Alex Reece or United Future Organization had some of their tracks remixed by these exceptional producers. Rumour has it during the work for DJ-Kicks and their debut album they refused doing remixes for U2, Grace Jones, Elvis Costello and the Fantastic Four! ‘DJ-Kicks: Kruder & Dorfmeister’ took its place in the pantheon a long while back, effortless in its ability to traverse sounds, styles and tempos while retaining a selection which remains timelessly recognisable as: Kruder & Dorfmeister.

Twoosty Mayonez is a duo consisting of Bartosz Wolert (drums) and Kornel Karolak (synthesizers), creating post-jazz music and is considered to be part of the new Polish wave of this genre. The album is a continuation of the story begun in 2123, when Captain Harrison Focus, as a result of an emergency landing of his rocket, lands on the unknown planet Carmin. This story was described and released by U Know Me Records and this is how the (universe) world learned about Twoosty Mayonez. Their latest album is a story about what happens on the surface of the mysterious planet Carmin. This time, the main character of the album is Triceradiplodocus. The songs show changes in mood and atmosphere. The music is full of energy, harmony and emotions that reflect the diversity of the world the hero goes through.

All compositions were created on a weekend in September 2023, as a result of the duo's collective improvisation. The recordings were made at the Twoosty Room studio in Warsaw by the band's drummer.

The album features guest appearances by: Alicja Sobstyl (flute), Ola Szmidt (vocals), Wojtek Mazolewski (double bass), Olaf Węgier (sax). The cover was designed by Dominika Kiszkiel, and the mix and mastering was done by Maciek Goliński (Envee). The album, released in LP and digital formats by U JAZZ ME Records, is scheduled for January 9, 2025.

Near the end of fifth grade, Eli Edwards’ mom gave him $20 and told him to go find a friend. His team had won its soccer game that day, so they were out celebrating at a local pizza parlor with games. But, more importantly, there had been one other Black kid that day on the pitch in Spanaway, WA, a Tacoma suburb and military-base town at the rainy northwest corner of the United States. That kid just happened to be Xayvien Young. An instant deep connection was formed between Edwards and Young—Eli and Xay, as they prefer to be called were inseparable— and now twelve years later they are the electrifying, boundary-skipping duo Casi.

Along the way, Eli had relocated to Los Angeles with the indie rock band Enumclaw he had helped found, but he found himself flying home maybe a little too much. He was ostensibly visiting his girlfriend, but he spent most of his time with Xay. They cut tracks in every bit of free time they found until they had an epiphany: Maybe this music they’d made together for a dozen years was actually something special. Casi’s 10-track, self-titled debut out on Carpark Records is the electrifying proof they needed.

On the record, they enthusiastically explore every musical interest they have ever had—explosive hip-hop and unbridled hardcore, high-gloss nü metal and a little bit of emo—as a pair. These songs don’t ignore genre lines; they delight in destroying them, in finding ways to slam hip-hop and hardcore, emo and nü metal together until it seems illogical that they were ever apart. Take “Jumper,” where heavy metal guitars and face-kicking drums stir the moshpit for rabid verses about crushing ICE and the lessons you learn riding the poverty line. And take closer “Bridges,” where the melodic imprint of Deftones meets the relentless confessions of Death Grips. Here are the hard, funny, and loud stories of two 23-year-olds, screaming about the world over a breathless composite of all the music they’ve ever loved.

When Eli was in Los Angeles, Xay missed his friend. But in his absence, he also felt the spark of inspiration. Music was something that had just been their childhood hobby, but now Eli was in a rock band that had press accolades and tours. He got serious about the craft. Eli would write about the dislocation and isolation he felt in California, while Xay would document the hardships of being a young Black man with a complicated family while working menial jobs in Spanaway.

This isn’t a coming-of-age album for Casi; it is, instead, a raw and riveting snapshot of that process, painful as it can be. “Eleven87” is a breakup song, a soul beat springing beneath arching emo vocals. And “Intrusive Thoughts” treats that topic like a punching bag, Eli and Xav fighting against the mental habits that keep them down. These 10 songs instantly close that gap.

Hip Horns Brass Collective presents Brassvillain, a tribute to the cult album Madvillany by MF DOOM and Madlib with the collaboration of Las Ninyas del Corro, Ana Tijoux, Escandaloso Xpósito and Rodrigo Laviña. The catalan brass band covers iconic songs like Figaro, Meat Grinder or All Caps, with the metallic explosion that characterizes them and the voices of some of the best artists on the current rap scene. Daniel Dumile, aka, MF DOOM is not only a musical reference, but also the illustrations that accompanied his project have a great role in the history of hip hop. For this reason, Brassvillain is also a great graphic epic where the versatile artist Hermes LeBleu displays all his versatility. In the featurings appears HO$$$ Benítez, one of the most renowned drummers on the hip hop scene, who has already accompanied them on their previous releases, “The Dream” and “Thunder”. The production is by Hip Horns together with one of the best bassists and musicians in our country, Tito Bonacera, making this tribute a multidisciplinary meeting point between artists who grew up with the masked hero. On the B side we have two new singles from the band, BRAM! and Mulligan, in which they unleash their full potential both in composition and in execution to prove once again that they are one of the leading brass bands of the moment.

At the beginning of the 1960s, at the Berklee College of Music, Byard Lancaster met some feisty friends: Sonny Sharrock, Dave Burrell and Ted Daniel. It is easy to see why he rapidly became involved in free jazz. Once he was settled in New York, he appeared on Sunny Murray Quintet, recorded under the leadership of the drum crazy colleague of Albert Ayler.

In 1968, the saxophonist and flutist recorded his first album under his own name: It’s Not Up To Us. The following year he came to Paris in the wake of... Sunny Murray. He would come back to France in 1971 (again with Murray) and in 1973 (without Murray for a change). This is when he met Jef Gilson, the pianist and producer who encouraged him to record under his own name again.

On Palm Records (Gilson’s label), he would release four albums: Us, Mother Africa, Exactement and Funny Funky Rib Crib.

“Funny Funky Rib Crib” is an unforgettable recording (made up of several sessions dating from the middle of 1974) of creative jazz overwhelmed by funk and soul.

If Lancaster had already made successful albums in the same genre – notably New Horizons, under the name Sounds Of Liberation which he co-led with Khan Jamal –, this one is an homage to James Brown and Sammy Davis enjoying the company of a host of guests including François Tusques (electric piano), Clint Jackson III (trumpet), François Nyombo (guitar), Joseph Traindl (trombone)...

Funny Funky Rib Crib’s cover is a three-quarter profile portrait of the saxophonist (who can also be heard on flute, piano and even vocals), however, on the record, it is the whole group, inspired and frenetic, that tests the melodies of “Just Test”, “Dogtown” or “Rib Crib” – the two versions of which display leader Lancaster’s art of nuance. On both sides of the album, the group also moves into a calmer groove, infused by blues and soul, “Work And Pray” and “Loving Kindness” are meditative tracks where listeners can lay back and relax before asking for more: Funny Funky Rib Crib

One of the true, undisputed pioneers of Dutch techno, Steve Rachmad appears on Dekmantel for an EP of peerless machine music. On the 3-6-9 EP, the artist also known as Sterac, Parallel 9 and many other names plies a powerful trade in funked up, gritty and soulful techno made the proper way.

The connection between Rachmad and Dekmantel reaches back many years via his frequent appearances at the Dekmantel Festival — he has two performances at the 2026 edition as well as sets at Dekmantel Selectors lined up later in the summer. The 3-6-9 EP lands ahead of an album and world tour that marks 45 years in service to electronic music, nodding to Rachmad's earliest roots in electro funk through to his day-one embrace of house and techno as it made its way across the Atlantic from Chicago and Detroit.

There's a rowdy, rave-spirited energy to the synth hook bucking its way through the centre of '3 Creation Energy', coming on in brassy tones laced with artful distortion while the drums dutifully jack the way they ought to. There's a more linear, pressure cooker quality to the tidal filter work guiding '6 Physical Manifestation' to its own energetic peaks, while '9 Completion and Delivery' surfs on coursing waves of arpeggiated lead lines before breaking through to the oceanic calm of grandiose pad tones.

There's no mystery to unpick here — this is quite simply techno perfection made with the instinct and experience of a master of the form, whose life is synonymous with every inch of the culture.

The Comfort enters the double digits of its catalogue with the label’s most ambitious release to date by Saudi Arabian artist Noboot, titled “Call and Pulsate”.

Fluid in genre yet wholeheartedly electro in spirit, Noboot’s creative output shapeshifts across the record: from four-to-the-floor acid-tinged propulsion to time-freezing illuminations, with neon-coloured synths, body-twisting low ends and piercing drum hits mutating throughout the album, and often within the tracks themselves.

Noboot’s capacity for sonic manipulation is on full display here with the pieces moving with a captivating direction and command. Sometimes gentle, sometimes dramatic, but always carried with a particular elegance and poise. To listen to the record from start to finish is to step into Noboot’s own conceptual world, one in which the artist has the confidence to take floor-oriented dance music and elevate it both in spirit and form.

There is composure and ambition in this approach. Tracks move the listener from one emotional state to another in the span of six minutes: not merely teasing transformation, but by fully taking the listener there. To deliver on that ambition requires control and idiosyncratic intuition. If “Desolated Delay” and “Timer Set” are striking examples of Noboot’s capacity for propulsion, “Meter Tired” shows the other side of their talent: the ability to make time feel briefly suspended in a weightless flux of cybernetic psychedelia.

To achieve this once or twice would already be impressive. To sustain it across an album of this scale is rare in electronic dance music, and makes The Comfort’s tenth release a defining moment in the label’s catalogue.