quête:the elusive

Recorded and mixed by Steve Albini at Electrical Audio in Chicago, the album captures Zu at their most raw and explosive -- where avant-jazz energy collides with the weight of experimental rock. Igneo (2002) by Zu is the band's debut studio album and marks the starting point of their distinctive sonic identity. Even at this early stage, many of the elements that would define their later work are already clearly present. The album emerges from a context deeply rooted in experimentation and exploration. Compared to their subsequent releases, the sound here feels more open and less tightly structured, with a stronger emphasis on improvisation and real- time interaction between the musicians. The trio--baritone sax, electric bass, and drums--develops a language that blends free jazz, noise, post- hardcore, and touches of contemporary composition.

Listening to Igneo, you can sense a balance between raw energy and expressive freedom. The baritone sax shifts between abrasive bursts and more spacious, stretched- out passages, while the bass moves from repetitive grooves into fragmented lines. The drums, in turn, alternate between tight rhythmic frameworks and looser, more fluid playing. There's a constant negotiation between control and release. Unlike the band's later, more disciplined records, the structures here feel more fluid and unpredictable. The tracks don't follow conventional forms; instead, they evolve like living organisms, marked by sudden changes, contrasting sections, and a persistent sense of instability. This gives the album a dynamic, almost volatile character. The title Igneo-- suggesting something fiery and primal-- captures the essence of the record quite well. The music feels warm, raw, and in continuous motion, as if it were constantly on the verge of erupting.

‘Cécile McLorin Salvant ... sings standards, show tunes and old novelties in a taut, flinty, elusively beautiful voice, erring toward material with difficult lyrics and tough places in history. Salvant wins over her audiences by tweaking them slightly: daring them to go there with her—not just into the archive, but toward the darkness of the past.’ – New York Times

‘Although Salvant is known as a jazz musician, her approach to music is defined by her instinct for experimentation ... Her music is beloved for ... embracing theatre and subverting classics with playful renditions.’ – Guardian

Salvant, who has performed with orchestras regularly over the last decade-and-a-half and intended to make an album with one sooner in her career, but logistics and her abundant creative ideas led to other new projects intervening. Having finally found time to make this album, With Every Breath I Take is a different sort of record than it might have been even ten years ago.

“It is a rare opportunity to be able to make an album at this scale, which has been a dream of mine for many years,” Salvant says. “Darcy James Argue wrote stunning arrangements and the Metropole Orkest, conducted by the extraordinary Jules Buckley, gave these stories a cinematic dimension. We overcame quite a few obstacles to even get into the recording studio for this project; it took almost four years for us to do so, and I am so incredibly proud to share it.

“I did not choose these songs because they are beautiful, but because they are crucial to me,” she adds.

Cécile McLorin Salvant, a 2020 MacArthur Fellow and three-time Grammy Award winner, is a singer and composer bringing historical perspective, a renewed sense of drama, and an enlightened musical understanding to both jazz standards and her own original compositions. Classically trained, steeped in jazz, blues, and folk, and drawing from musical theater and vaudeville, Salvant embraces a wide-ranging repertoire that broadens the possibilities for live performance.

Salvant’s performances range from spare duets for voice and piano to instrumental trios to orchestral ensembles. Her unreleased work Ogresse is an ambitious long-form musical fairy tale that is being made into a feature length animated film. She has performed at national and international venues and festivals such as the Newport Jazz Festival, the Monterey Jazz Festival, the Village Vanguard, and the North Sea Jazz Festival. Her previous Nonesuch albums, Ghost Song (2022) Mélusine (2023), and Oh Snap (2025) received critical accolades; the former two were both nominated for Grammy Awards. Salvant is also a visual artist, and Oh Snap was named a best album of 2025 by the Guardian, Jazzwise, JazzTimes, and the Francis Davis Jazz Critics Poll.

2026's Brightest Hope Confirmed: “Kabutomushi”!
In their 7th year since debut, an unprecedented best album is released on CD, Cassette Tape, and LP!
Formed in 2019 as a music production team or conceptual four-piece rock band comprising a pianist, avant-garde composer, painter, and percussionist.
J-POP, hip-hop, new wave, prog rock, techno, house, free jazz, contemporary classical, folk music－all sublimated into an elusive avant-pop.
It could be called the 2020s reimagined version of Yura Yura Teikoku.

Atkinson first saw Les yeux sans visage when she was a teenager, around the turn of the century. The film made an impact for its iconic imagery and the way Franju draws on the aesthetics of early filmmaking, from its score that relies on stylistic markers typical of the 1940s or 50s to the decision to shoot in black and white. Even four decades after its first release, it was clear that this was a work that stood outside of the cultural moment that birthed it, speaking through time in ways that were uncanny, but profound.

A quarter-century later, Atkinson was approached by the Belgian cultural center VIERNULVIER to create a new score for Les yeux sans visage for its celebrated Videodroom series, which has seen artists like claire rousay, Mabe Fratti, Lee Renaldo, and many more create new original scores for cult classics and genre cinema. Atkinson's music, with its sublime meditations on space and proximity, its elusive sense of narrative development, mirrors the pacing and mystery at the heart of horror filmmaking. There is a shadow at the heart of her soundtrack to Les yeux sans visage, an ever-shifting wisp and an insinuation of encroaching transfiguration. Echoing a climactic moment in the film, the music obliquely points to "the Beyond," an impossible place of discovery and revelation.

Atkinson envisioned her music as something akin to the air moving throughout and beyond the many cages that appear in the film, unconstrained by the bars and with undefined borders. Those cages hold the victims of a madman surgeon, determined to graft a new face onto his daughter, the protagonist Christiane Génessier, who lost hers in a car accident while he was behind the wheel. Atkinson was reminded of her predecessors at the pioneering French studio the GRM, who approached sound in a less sinister, but similarly surgical manner, and took inspiration from their playful approach to cerebral soundmaking for the electroacoustic topography into which the piano is embedded. As such, Atkinson’s reactions to the larger themes and the minute-by-minute happenings onscreen are both audible simultaneously.

A film about a man who destroys the lives of young women marked by their beauty and similarity to his daughter in a shame-fueled rage has clear, continuous cultural resonance. "Through the music, I decided to bring back their empowerment despite what they endure," says Atkinson. "This is why the record is also dedicated to Gisèle Pelicot, whose trial happened while I was in the process of composing the music and kept thinking of her strength and her decision to share her trial in order to reverse the shame."

This recorded version of the soundtrack is a 34-minute synthesis of the full 90-minute score, presented on LP along with an essay by writer-musician Claire Cronin and drawings by Momo Gordon, together forming a complex reflection on the film's themes. If these sounds move as if the bars of cages are no barrier, they also intimate the freedom and power of those held behind them. Rather than simply mirroring the fear and confinement shown onscreen, Atkinson offers an elusive escape, a beacon for the characters, and the listener, to follow as they reckon with the narrative and move through it.

Few artists arrive as compellingly yet elusively as did Stuart Moxham upon the startling debut of Young Marble Giant's sole studio album, Colossal Youth. Initial excitement was thrust upon the young Alison Statton, who sang songs written by Stuart with a couple of exceptions. The unaffected tone of her voice was in steep contrast to the typical goings-on in that still quite punky time, but it was what she sang that fully sold it. Moxham's lyrics were both intensely personal and woefully oblique. There seemed to be a sort of story in there. Confusingly, that story often felt like it was Alison's rather than the fellow who'd penned it. The unexpected miracle a deal with Rough Trade and the album's subsequent success had the band stymied for a second act and it wasn't long before the group disintegrated, although circumstances often brought members and a few of their peers - among them Debbie Pritchard, Spike Williams, and a third Moxham brother, Drew. - Phil Moxham was the band's bassist - together in odd combinations and pairings. None of the three YMG members have been especially prolific, but it's Stuart's career that has seemed the least straightforward, as if he'd wondered, "What to do when your debut is a nearly perfect artefact?" In the case of his first "solo" full-length in thirty years, Stuart took the unusual step of entering an alien studio with American producer Dave Trumfio (who's also the leader of Pulsars and bassist for Mekons) and allowing him to decide what tracks (of a large number submitted by Stuart) to record, and how they'd be orchestrated. Or not. In this case - save for the writing and composing - it's really Dave's album as much as Stuart's. The tracks went with Dave back to LA, where they were mixed, a few parts added (including subtle backing vocals from the incredible Linda Smith) . . . then later unmixed and reworked by John Henderson and Roni Ayala back in Valencia. Both versions will be made available, and both have a compelling cohesion missing from some of Stuart's work since YMG. Stuart's minimalism is quite intact, the range of emotions quite wide. There are few artists operating today like Stuart Moxham, a composer of the upper echelon of innate talent who combines avant-garde ideas with deceptively forthright personal lyrics, solid hooks, ambience and vaguely off-centre instrumentation which defies the casual marketplace as confoundingly as it ever did to the underground, whatever that is these days. His songs have been admired and / covered by everyone from Lush to Kurt Cobain, adaptations in Japanese and even a French-language hit by Etienne Daho, adaptations by Hole, Galaxie 500, Magnetic Fields, Belle And Sebastian and many others - but a new Stuart Moxham album is a special kind of joy.

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

Inner City Sound Archives returns with its second chapter — digging deeper into the forgotten vaults of New York’s underground disco culture.

This new volume brings to light another cache of mysterious acetate recordings: no titles, no credits, just cryptic handwriting, tape hiss, and the unmistakable pulse of a bygone era. Painstakingly transferred and fully remastered through analog processes, these raw and extended cuts preserve the full emotional weight of the original sessions — dusty, physical, and made to move bodies in the dark.

These are tracks that once passed hand-to-hand among a tight circle of selectors, whispered about and played just once or twice at legendary loft parties between 1978 and 1983. Then, silence. Until now. Once championed in the shadows by the likes of Larry Levan, Francis Grasso, Steve D’Acquisto, but also by more elusive selectors like Bobby Guttadaro, Michael Cappello, Roy Thode, and Mark Paul Simon — these grooves return to tell their story, the way they were meant to be heard. Each piece is a sonic time capsule — hypnotic, unpolished, and intimate. Pressed loud and with care, for those who still believe in the ritual of vinyl.

Hoek van de laatste zon' sounds like the adopted bastard child of Dean Blunt and the late Luc De Vos. 'A cause de vos merdes' is as fierce as the title suggests — foaming at the mouth and growling, infectiously repetitive and menacing: a schizophrenic, peerless mantra summoning demons.

A 7" in the category of 'future Belpop classic'. Contrarian songs that leave you torn between humming along and bursting into tears. Catchy yet elusive, poppy and still avant-garde. For those drawn to intimate poetry over hypnotic rhythms, to wave and spoken word that still moves a dancefloor, to avant pop with a mantra edge.

Following the acclaim of 'Nachtdichter' on Knekelhuis, Victor De Roo and Alex Deforce reunited here for the inaugural release on Les Editions Deforce (LED), Deforce's Brussels-based imprint. 'In de hoek van de laatste zon' has since received airplay from NTS to Echobox and Kiosk Radio, from Dia! in Bayonne to EHFM in Edinburgh — making it arguably the most broadcast Dutch-language track beyond its own borders.

Alex Deforce is a published poet with two collections, including 'Tussenbruggen', released in five languages by Poëziecentrum.

There is an abruptness to waking up to the sight of the other person’s back, a quiet violence hidden in the impression of intimacy, that’s leaving an aftertaste of emptiness. The feeling of losing oneself completely in a love that is given but never returned. Or the slower, less immediate one - the gradual disintegration of a world into which so much was once invested.

Love, Diskito is like a worn out overdubbed cassette found in a drawer, with its underlying tracks flickering between contrasting emotional states. Written, produced and mixed by GbClifford, the release follows up on the elusive, multifaceted output of the Prague-based experimental artist, who dresses fleeting glimpses of youthful yearning, sentiment and fragility in the blunt apparel of distortion and immediacy.

Drawing from their idiosyncratic, collage-like approach to music production, GbClifford condenses on Love, Diskito a varied palette of field recordings, samples, distorted instruments and ambient sounds. They resemble doodles in the corner of a school notebook, tightly overlapping with the evocative, minimalistic artwork by Czech artist Kateřina Šípová.

The guidance of GbClifford’s personless, at times highly decomposed vocals modulates the emotional urgency of the recording and reflects on the past. “I’m so close to relapsing, I’m here for you, closer than ever,” echoes in the elusive track So Only Yours, carrying the undercurrents of surrendering to the sole necessity of caring, even at the cost of individual ache. While the album does not forgo its earthbound, bare setting, there is something deeply pastoral and sky-gazing in the layered, multi-pitched vocals, horn-like tones and sense of space that Love, Diskito evokes.

Shrouded in mystery when it first appeared, Tiger & Woods’ debut album quickly took on a life of its own. With little more than whispers surrounding the project, the music spoke loud enough: a set of extended disco constructions carefully tuned, remixed, over-dubbed, sliced and diced by the elusive duo of Larry Tiger and David Woods. What began as a cult phenomenon soon caused a stir across dance floors and record bags worldwide.
Now, for the first time ever, that legendary debut finally arrives on vinyl. Through the Green captures Tiger & Woods at the moment their distinctive language of groove first took shape. Rooted in the spirit of disco edits but already stretching beyond the format, the album blends loop-driven funk, house-leaning propulsion and the unmistakable bounce that would soon become their signature.
It’s the sound of two producers refining a craft that would later blossom on albums like On The Green Again, where their approach expanded into a wider palette of boogie, electronica, Italo and uptempo house. But here is where the story begins.
Before world tours, live sets and the creation of their own T&W Records imprint, there were these tracks: hypnotic, playful and engineered with a dancer’s instinct for tension and release. Each cut unfolds like a perfectly extended club moment, full of warmth, swing and that unmistakable Tiger & Woods sense of fun and function.
Years after its original digital release, Through the Green remains a cornerstone of modern disco-house culture. Pressed to wax at last, it finally receives the physical format it always deserved: grooves built for the turntable, the dance floor and the crate.
The mystery might be gone. The magic, however, remains very much intact.

Laurel Halo returns with an album of original soundtrack music, composed for the film Midnight Zone by visual artist Julian Charrière. Following the path of a drifting Fresnel lighthouse lens as it descends through the Clarion-Clipperton Fracture Zone — a remote abyssal plain in the Pacific Ocean, rich in rare metals and increasingly targeted for deep-sea mining — the film traces a descent into one of Earth’s last untouched ecosystems.


Charrière’s film reveals the deep not as void, but as a luminous biome teeming with fragile life: bioluminescent creatures, swirling schools of fish, and elusive predators. The suspended lens becomes an abyssal campfire, attracting species caught in the tides of uncertainty, their futures hanging in the balance.


Echoing this tension, Halo’s compositions evoke a sensory freefall, where gravity falters and light and sound flicker in uncertain rhythms. Midnight Zone is a sonic drift through the space between what we seek to extract, fail to understand, and must protect.


Halo’s score evokes the life that exists beyond our physical airbound capacity. The material features long, subtle passages of electro-acoustic ambient, drone and sound design, slowly flowing and unfolding with rich detail. The music, composed largely on a Montage 8 synthesizer and Yamaha TransAcoustic piano at the Yamaha studios in New York City, possesses an uncanny quality: that of synthetic waveforms being amplified and sung through the stringboard of the physical body of the TransAcoustic piano. Combined with stacks of violin and viol da gamba, the music on Midnight Zone possesses trace elements of a human hand in an otherwise sunken landscape. Patient, submerged, and alive. The album will be the third on Halo’s imprint, Awe.


The film is central to Charrière’s current solo exhibition Midnight Zone. The exhibition engages with underwater ecologies, exploring the complexity of water as an elemental medium affected by anthropogenic degradation. Reflecting upon its flow and materiality, profundity and politics, its mundane and sacral dimensions, the solo show acts as a kaleidoscope, inviting us to dive deep.

In this context Jeroen Swinnen and David Martijn needed to find a musical concept to go hand in hand with the story. They opted for a string quartet and an arsenal of old analogue synths (of the series’ era). Thé perfect match as it turned out. Emphasize the beauty, hope and respect on one hand. Translate the elusive, unjust feeling that is addressed in the series on the other. Apart from these 2 central instruments, an old muted upright piano, played by Jeroen, and a guitar, played by David, were also used to express emotion even more.

Certain paths necessitate and call for one singular long sequence in order to arrive at a fully formed conversation or reasoning. Nothing seems to broadcast it more clearly than the trajectory Brussels based Italo-Vietnamese artist Nguyễn Zen Mỹ embarked on during the last decade as Radio Hito.

After a string of highly cherished and sought out tape releases, Radio Hito’s new album ‘L’uso e gli attributi del cuore’, co-released by Maple Death & Meakusma, unfolds with devastating
clarity, a profound balance of depth, minimalism and emotional grounding. A ten-sequence song cycle for voice and MIDI soundfonts adapted from the 2021 book by French poet Claude
Royet-Journoud.

Written and recorded between January 2023 and August 2025, the cycle evolved through nearly 80 live performances from Galicia to Kazakhstan before arriving at its recorded form. Set to an Italian libretto adapted from Royet-Journoud’s text ‘L'usage et les attributs du cœur’ (POL, 2021), the work revisits the tradition of the 19th-century Lied — art song built on existing poetry— transposed into a radically economical contemporary setting: voice and Casio CTK workstations.

"I was interested by this incompleteness CRJ mentions - by the ‘suspension’ of meaning questioning readability and intelligibility. I ‘resisted’ to CRJ’s texts since I met him and got to know his work. … It seems to me that when playing the songs, I submit an object to be completed by the audience."

Radio Hito’s distinctive approach to setting poetry to music — spare arrangements, strophic repetition, and a voice suspended between recital, fm transmission and canzone — creates a language of its own, reaching new heights on ‘L’uso e gli attributi del cuore’, songs that are formally rigorous, emotionally restrained, and shaped by the discipline of sustained live performance, interlocking into a coherent cycle.

Rather than illustrating the poem, Radio Hito approaches it as a space of suspension. Royet-Journoud described poetry as a “profession of ignorance” where meaning remains incomplete; these songs extend that trembling state, allowing repetition, digital timbre, and restraint to hold the text open.

Often misread as minimal synth or romantic chanson, Radio Hito’s practice is rooted instead in the lineage of the art song and song cycle: open structures, close attention to language, and a live performance economy that pushes the voice at the heart of the stage. The choice of accessible keyboard workstations — light, portable, and embedded in contemporary popular culture — replaces the historical piano.

Radio Hito creates fantastical, mirage-like songs, intimate yet elusive. Her music is forlorn chanson for the digital age; bringing her haunting and beautiful vocalisations into conversation with MIDI soundfonts and humble-yet-deep casio compositions. Music that strides for simplicity, yet lands miraculously within an entire new universe, a uniqueness achieved from like-minded spirits such as Ghedalia Tazartès, Savina Yannatou & Lena Platonos, Dorothy Carter, cycles that trickle down into estuaries.

“Radio Hito's set is superb. Sitting on the altar steps with a synth, her fabulously expressive vocals colour sparse, pensive compositions.” The Wire

Preceded by Piazza Centrale and the subsequent Seia the album of the singer-songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist, new promise of the Italian music scene, moves along the traces of memories to tell a timeless story, using a very personal language in which singer-songwriter music, pop, and electronic experimentation naturally coexist. Hypnotic and magnetic, her music is a subtle, elusive seduction, an emotion that delicately insinuates itself into the mind, an invitation to get lost in its beauty. A passion that touches the deepest chords of the soul, without the overwhelming rush of the senses, but with the intensity of a pure and profound feeling. Gaia Banfi was born in Milan, has been living in Bologna for years, but in her album, it is Genoa that resonates, the place of her childhood, which here becomes an imaginary setting for a symbolic dimension in which everyone can recognize themselves, through seven tracks in which all those melancholies that swell as we grow up, the lacks, the turbulent and dark loves, the unrequited ones, but also the vitality, the discovery, the absence of judgment, and finally the awareness, the inner conquests, the clemency, and the love for oneself, take voice.

The sibling duo behind the music on Graceful Degradation — organ and drums, nothing more, nothing less — carve out a sound that feels unmistakably organic in a world drifting steadily toward the synthetic. Their interplay is entirely live, subtle in its details yet dynamic in its momentum, built on the kind of instinctive communication only brothers can share.
The music is fully instrumental, unfolding in a borderland where dreamy retro pop dissolves into the hazy textures of shoegaze and the unruly pulse of noisy, electronic leaning jazz. It’s a sonic world that feels both familiar and elusive, nostalgic yet inherently restless. Melodies shimmer and blur, rhythms swell and contract, and the space between the notes becomes as expressive as the notes themselves.
What emerges is a sound that resists easy categorization: warm but unpredictable, intimate yet expansive, grounded in the physicality of two musicians performing in real time. The organ breathes like a living organism, shifting from soft focus ambience to swirling, saturated harmonics, while the drums move with a fluid, human elasticity — sometimes whisper quiet, sometimes erupting with raw, kinetic force.
In this in between terrain, the duo has always found its identity and its freedom. Their music doesn’t chase perfection; it chases presence. It embraces imperfection, celebrates spontaneity, and insists on staying alive in a landscape where so much is becoming weightless and automated.
This is instrumental music with a pulse: subtle, dynamic, and unmistakably human.

Berlin Based DJ & Producer Johannes Klingebiel returns to Claptrap with “Dolce” a four-track EP served sweet, rich, and ready for peak-time indulgence.

Three original cuts and a heavyweight remix combine for a release that’s equal parts playful and potent. Consider this your sugar rush warning.

The title track, “Dolce,” is a warm and irresistible disco-house groover. Creamy acoustic drums lay the foundation while spicy xylophones and syrupy flute lines weave through the mix, striking a perfect balance between sophistication and pure dancefloor pleasure. It’s smooth, infectious, and built to move bodies.

Next up, “Follow The Line” blends shuffled house rhythms with 303 basslines and grainy vocal stabs. On paper, it’s an unlikely combination, on the floor, it locks tight. The result is hypnotic, driving, and effortlessly smooth.

On the flip, “Pink Forest” ventures into more mysterious territory. Built around an elusive, shifting time signature (one that even jazz-trained drummer Johannes struggles to explain), the track somehow feels both unpredictable and deeply groovy. It bends perception without losing momentum, a heady but danceable excursion into the unknown.

Closing the EP, Sun Damage delivers a remix of “Follow The Line” that both sharpens and distorts the original’s trajectory. Chunkier, weightier, and slightly off-kilter, this rework injects a tougher edge while maintaining the track’s hypnotic core, primed for late-night floors and heavy systems.

“Dolce” is indulgent yet refined, a release that balances musicality with movement, sweetness with punch.
Consume responsibly.

The sonic worlds of Devon Rexi and John T. Gast collide in a vital meeting between two singular mavericks!

Following two lauded EPs on cult label South of North, Amsterdam-based Devon Rexi prepare to release their much-anticipated debut album, recorded by and featuring elusive 5 Gate Temple devotee, musician and producer John T. Gast, whose acclaimed catalogue continues to flourish.

Devon Rexi is a trio made up of Nicola Reverda (Nicolini), Nushin Naini and Goya van der Heyden (La Rat). They’ve quickly carved out their own sonic world, traversing krautfunk, post-punk and psyched-up no wave, all laced with a dub-heavy experimental mentality. Breathstep captures the band’s bass-heavy incantations, ripe with melodic chaos and rhythmic improvisation, while devilish cackles and processed vocals flirt over a jukebox of dubbed snippets and sliced textures.

The introduction of John T. Gast as producer and collaborator pulls the Devon Rexi sound deeper into bubbling dub territory, while his own palette is stretched and pushed into new terrain. Though Gast has firmly cemented his singular sound over the last decade, this interconnected process marks new ground for all involved. The result is a supreme convergence of esteemed musicians and a wickedly fine debut collaborative record.

Breathstep finds its home on Bristol imprint Accidental Meetings, whose ever-evolving sound and wide-ranging discography continue to grow. The album was recorded over the last year across Amsterdam, Lisbon and London.

The album opens with the ominous guitar-driven Hollow Sky, accompanied by its haunting music video's verdant vistas. The song, with Iceglass ghostly vocals, shimmers with that sounds like an Omnichord flittering like sonic firefly lights and brooding bass. This perfectly scores the less traveled wanderings through the dark wooden path of Dante's perdition, leading to the titular well that graces the album cover. The Crater opens with an unsettling riff and bass, with low, repetitive frequencies on the synth create a sense of unease. Here, Iceglass recounts a fatalistic requiem for the king of romance that is cataclysmic and leaves a scar upon the earth. With Fall Industrial Wall, once again, Iceglass channels a silky and Nico-like emotive deadpan; against a dirgelike melody backed by minimal synth, bass, and drum. Almost medieval and plaintive, with its folk droning horns, deep and shallow in their resonance. This song is anachronistic, setting the scene of ruins centuries-old with crumbling edifices strewn about like memories lost in time. With the poetic lyrics of The Chamber do we find the eponymous abyss. Here, dualities are laid bare; besides love, there is heartbreak, and without this sorrow, what meaning would there be to love if one knows not what it is to lose? This song encapsulates the idea that love is heartbreak, and love lost is reaching the deepest chamber of the heart. This is carried through a sombre horn, minimalist drum machine, and deliberate bassline overlaid with Iceglass german and english lyrics. The Well is led in with a softly distorted bassline overlaid with eerie banshee howls give way to Iceglass otherworld vocal refrain, echoing through time as if emanating from a hole in the ground, and encircling that hole is a garden of woe and despair. The sinfully seductive song The Moor features a captivating SAX SOLO courtesy of Perseas; a welcome shift in tone, juxtaposed well with the intensity of Iceglass tenebrous vocal purr. This hitherto unexplored foray into dark sensuality takes the song into sordid mid 80s territory, bringing to mind a dusky drive along a serpentine road, with equally haunting instrumentations straddling time with icy fire. Broken Characters is an acoustic folk interlude featuring Selofan's Dimitris Pavlidis on guitar. Here we find a more gentle approach with its earnest and romantic lyrics. The song's melodic hook is a soft caress along with the forlorn horn elements highlighting Iceglass at her most Nico-sounding vocal yet, singing the sorrowful truth that most artists are indeed broken characters. Chimerical opens with dirgelike synth organs. The chill of winter has befallen the lamentations sung by Iceglass carried by haunting chord progressions and minimal percussion, plaintively beseeching the song's subject to remain elusive, idealistic, and a dreamer. After an album highlighting more Jill than Jack, our male protagonist finally makes his ascent in the sonorous and breathtaking Dark Hill, a masterful march of sweeping synth horns, and trepidatious drum machine with William Maybelline's bellowing voice cracking like thunder, rattling the atmosphere like his heart against his ribs. Spirals swirls in a cautionary knell of cathedral-esque droning synth dirge, with Icarian lyrics shining like a sombre ray of hope; like the sun's rays creeping into the darkest of places. The song, minimalist in its tight percussion, echoes with the solace of Larissa Iceglass vocal litany; invoking elements of the supernatural, almost like a Casio preset sequenced to the beating of an angel's wings.

On 'Vesturgata Gaze', Hitam traverses a new biome. Geographically and metaphorically. Through this introductory release on Omen Wapta, a remarkable voice in techno lunges into artistic deliverance. Here we, the listeners, find ourselves with an EP that harbours the emotive voltage of a perspective-pivoting trip. Tectonic shifts reshuffle subterranean frequencies, rhythmic phrases carry the timbre of ancient rainfall and we humbly stand witness as ceremonial incantations demarcate indigenous land. In elusive ways, this record assigns a bardic function to mostly nonverbal music. All five tracks consistently resemble traces of life-affirming encounters by sculpting Iceland's geological features into sound. 'Vesturgata Gaze' shows that commitment and intimate collaboration, taking on bold artistic ventures, touching moss and glaciers - that's what can break the mould.

"¡Qué ardiente!" combines the best of Los Roger's limited discography, one of the most influential Amazonian cumbia bands from Iquitos, Peru.Their discography dives deep into Cuban-influenced sounds, where the guitar shares the spotlight with powerful percussion and-with tracks like 'Descarga Roger's'-with the vocals as well. A thorough look into one of the most essential Psychedelic cumbia bands in Peru. Iquitos, one of Peru's most remote cities and the capital of its Amazon region, was the epicenter of the psychedelic cumbia movement. Countless bands emerged from this place, each with a different fate in their musical journeys. Some rose to become international stars and flag bearers of cumbia, while others remained local legends, their fame never traveling far beyond the Amazon jungle. Los Roger's achieved great success in Iquitos and served as the foundation and inspiration for many local bands that emerged in the late 1960s and early 1970s. "¡Qué ardiente!" combines the best of the band's limited discography. The recordings come from their first 45 RPM single and their two mini Long Plays for the FTA label, as well as their only elusive LP from 1971, "¡Qué ardiente!", ("How Burning!") recorded for the prestigious IEMPSA label. Los Roger's came to an abrupt end just one year after the release of their LP, at the peak of their career, due to their disappointments with the music industry.

Emerging from a shared love of long-form storytelling and hypnotic groove, Techfui presents a stunning double album from Ada Kaleh and Wareika, a cross-continental dialogue between two singular visions of deep and micro house.
Romanian composer and sound alchemist Ada Kaleh channels his signature world of organic textures, dub-soaked spaces and slowly evolving rhythms, known from his forward-thinking work on R&S, Apollo and his own Ada Kaleh Romania imprint. His part of the productions unfolds like a ritual: subtle, detailed and endlessly spiralling, built for dancers who like to disappear inside the groove.
On the other side, trio Wareika bring their unique blend of live jazz sensibility, meditative dub and electronic body music, honed over years of improvisation and boundary-blurring club performances. Their contributions lean into fluid polyrhythms, elastic basslines and shimmering harmonies, tracks that feel alive, breathing and in constant motion.
The journey is expanded by a heavyweight remix cast: minimal house icon Thomas Melchior, Techfui founder and Bahrain mainstay Salah Sadeq, whose deep house productions are crafted to move both heart and floor, and the elusive studio force DUST. Each rework dials the hypnosis in further, stretching time and space without ever losing the warmth of the original material.
True to Techfuis ethos of bringing family, friends and fresh talent together to create honest, unconventional art, this double album is not just a collection of tracks, but a deep, carefully produced listening experience, timeless deep house and micro house for late nights, early mornings and every hazy moment in between.

Conceived as a return to the music that shaped his formative years, the project draws its energy from late-night introspection, creative renewal, and a distinctly crepuscular sensibility. Initially conceived as a solo project, LOCUS NOIR is set to evolve into a fully-fledged band . Musically, LOCUS NOIR blends Type O Negative gloom, The Fields of the Nephilim mysticism, and Paradise Lost melancholy, all infused with a post- punk edge.

The result is a sound that feels both contemporary and timeless -- a modern interpretation of what Gothic Metal can be. On debut album 'Shadow Sun' , band main songwriter and vocalist Ben steps fully into a melodic, haunting vocal register, merging the theatrical delivery of Peter Murphy with subtle echoes of the late Peter Steele. The lyrics move between the esoteric and the intimate: love and death, desire and decay, nocturnal excess and the bitter aftertaste of parties stretching well past dawn.

The Cabildos remain one of the most enigmatic names to emerge from the 1970s library music scene. Little is known about the group, except that their name was inspired by Johnny Cabildo, an Italian keyboardist and composer who had relocated to Florida. Their recorded legacy is strikingly concise: just three albums—Yuxtaposición (1972, released under the name Cabildo's Three), Cross Fire (1974), and the later Where Is the Cat? (1979).

Entirely instrumental, the Cabildos' music is driven by deep grooves and a vibrant blend of Latin influences, funk, and jazz fusion, often enhanced by Afro-tribal percussion. Conceived primarily for use in films, documentaries, and advertising, their work naturally belongs to the world of synchronization music.

Cross Fire stands out as a particularly compelling chapter in their catalog, distinguished by an impressive range of textures and moods achieved through the minimalist interplay of bass, drums, and keyboards alone.

Now reissued by Redi Edizioni on clear red vinyl, this excellent record returns with a faithful reproduction of the original artwork, offering a renewed opportunity to appreciate one of library music's most elusive gems.

At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.

Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.

One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.

cLOUDDEAD's debut album, compiling six 10" EPs that appeared between 2000-2001, is aurally dense and obscured. A sprawling mass of miniature beat-suites and Dadaist lyrics, this strange and beautiful 3xLP would influence a myriad of sub-genres (cloud rap, hauntology, lo-fi hip-hop, etc.) in the two decades since its initial release.

Only the three members of cLOUDDEAD – Why?, Doseone and Odd Nosdam – can speak to the group's origins, but in the context of underground hip-hop towards the end of the 20th century, their arrival makes perfect sense. Cincinnati had a vital scene; home to Scribble Jam, an annual confluence of MCs, DJs, B-boys and graffiti artists. While the trio soon relocated to the Bay Area where they co-founded the Anticon collective, their Midwestern roots – in ramshackle basements of off-campus hovels, as the "cerberus of Southern Ohio" – would remain the atomic heart of their early recordings.

As Chris Martins writes in the liner notes, "The only reason we know their names today is because of how loudly and curiously they aired their insularity. They rewrote the entire world as they knew it through their own fucked perspective, and when those mysterious 10-inches started popping up in record shops, it wasn't just a puzzle to investigate: there seemed to be a whole cosmology hidden in those grooves."

Each side of the album represents one of those elusive 10-inches, each embodying a universe unto itself. Opening salvo "Apt. A" and "And All You Can Do Is Laugh" are perhaps most emblematic of the cLOUDDEAD experience. Why? and Dose create a new language through boundless non-sequiturs, sing-song non-choruses and call-and-response hooks, while Nosdam's dexterous production shifts from crackling ambience of Flying Saucer Attack to tight Ohio Players drum breaks and oblique film samples.

Taken all together, cLOUDDEAD is an original interpretation of hip-hop in the surreal Y2K glow – a bizarre meeting point between William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and MF DOOM's Operation: Doomsday. All it took was a Dr. Sample SP-202, Tascam cassette eight-track and cheap RadioShack mic. There's truly nothing like it.

This edition has been faithfully restored by Nosdam. European exclusive version comes on clear vinyl, incl. fold-out poster and liner notes insert.

Islaja presents her new album ”Angel Tape”, her debut release on the new Helsinki-based label Other Power. Drawing inspiration from childhood epiphanies while listening to an alleged recording of angels singing, Islaja has crafted an album that stands out as a major work in her expansive and celebrated catalogue, which includes previous releases on labels such as Ecstatic Peace!, Fonal and Svart.


Islaja, aka Finnish artist Merja Kokkonen, describes her new album as a “counterwork” to her most recent albums, where the mode of composing was more song-based. This time around, she goes more in the direction of vast fields of sound where the human voice is a key ingredient of music that breaks free of strict stylistic guidelines and traditional song forms. Rough around the edges, atonal and otherworldly, "Angel Tape” is the result of a lifetime of inspiration from something beyond the immediate realm of our experience, an attempt to catch the elusive essence of musical otherness.


”As a child, I listened to the ’angel tape’ my mother played, and I never thought that the human voices I heard on it were angels singing. Instead, all the aural debris lying just beneath the surface caught my attention as I thought it was mysterious and something from a different world than ours, and so that was probably what was referred to as the ’angels’ so miraculously caught on tape”, Kokkonen explains. ”I think this was one thing that led me on this lifelong quest to find new sounds and forms in music.”



The tape she is referring to, a mid-80s church recording, was passed around in religious circles. Each time the tape was copied, it became slightly more distorted. It was believed that this recording of religious music had accidentally captured for the first time the voices of actual angels singing. The tape was rumoured to have originated in Kansas City and to have made its way to Finland.


Whereas Islaja has often thought of albums as being collections of recent songs presented together, ”Angel Tape” has a strong sense of conceptual coherence. The music comes from a place. That doesn’t mean that one must take a single path from one place to the next, as close listenings of the album reveal layers upon layers of not only sound but also of mood and meaning. From the human voice in its barest form, to the rising dense walls of sound moving and reshaping, ”Angel Tape” is a captivating album that unveils new contours with each repeated listening.

Since their formation, The Hirsch Effekt have carved out a unique niche in the German-speaking music scene. Yet, despite—or perhaps because of—their elusiveness, the band has captivated a devoted audience. Musically, The Hirsch Effekt have always embraced limitless possibilities. Acoustic, introspective moments—where bassist Ilja John Lappin brings out his cello or guitarist Nils Wittrock returns to his classical roots—sit naturally alongside massive progressive metal onslaughts. The band is equally at home on intimate club stages as they are at international festivals, evidenced by repeated appearances at Euroblast and numerous events across the UK. Recently, they toured Germany alongside scene giants like Leprous, Tesseract and traversed Europe with Caligula’s Horse. Yet between these extremes, The Hirsch Effekt continually create songs that flirt with radio accessibility—almost—because the band steadfastly resists any form of standardization. With their seventh album, Der Brauch, they continue this course uncompromisingly. While earlier works, despite their diversity, were still labeled “metal albums,” this new record explores paths first hinted at on the multilayered second album, Holon : Anamnesis—the same album that fans of VISIONS magazine voted the only German-language entry among the 20 best albums of all time. Der Brauch can be seen as a return to that pivotal point—and simultaneously as a bold step forward. Drummer Moritz Schmidt doesn’t entirely forgot blast beats, but the record demands a new heading. In the end, though, there is only one truth: it unmistakably sounds like The Hirsch Effekt.

It’s been over 20 years since Kenny Dixon Jr., better known as Moodymann, released Black Mahogani—an album rich in atmosphere and emotion, offering a quintessential journey through deep house, soul, and jazz. Timeless yet modern, it’s an immersive and emotionally resonant experience that reflects the singular character of Detroit’s deep musical heritage.

Originally released in 2004, Black Mahogani is arguably one of Moodymann’s most revered and sought-after works. It completes the puzzle laid out by his rare and elusive KDJ 12” releases from the mid to late '90s. With the help of Detroit legends like the late Amp Fiddler, Roberta Sweed, and Norma Jean Bell, Dixon infused his analog soundscapes and samples with a new organic warmth—expanding the deep house genre while simultaneously paying homage to 1970s soul and cinematic soundtracks.

Dixon’s masterful control of tension—knowing exactly when to hold back and when to let go—makes Black Mahogani an enduring masterpiece. It's not just a landmark in electronic music, but a definitive statement in 21st-century Black American music.

Childhood Intelligence Nineteen by Dan Piu “The Mystic Mind” 2x12 LP

As the vortex of time evolves, Swiss Underground Legacy “Dan Piu” returns to his home planet “Childhood intelligence”. A rare specimen and artifact known for his timeless & intelligent soul-infused music, arises with his 3rd solo album on Childhood. “The Mystic Mind” 2x12 Lp as the trilogy, the sequel of “Tru Time And Ages” and “Inside Universe”.

This Full-Length player is a voyage through yet another unexplored realm of Dan's creativity, where listeners are invited to explore a vast network of emotions. As the album organically unfolds, tales of spooky synth worlds emerge, where hypnotic atmospheres collide with analog technoid elements, guided by classic JUNO chord progressions. Witness the alchemy of vintage ARP, Jupiter, Mono/Poly, and 80s Yamaha sounds as they morph into an elusive journey of electronic mysticism crafted by the otherworldly mind, the “Mystic Mind” of Dan Piu.

Groggy, engrossing new work from Ulla under their newly minted U.e. tag, riffing to the sublime on a set of (mostly) acoustic reveries that tap into the kind of smokey vapours favoured by the likes of Vincent Gallo, Voice Actor, Jonnine.

A new year, label, album and handle for Ulla, a multifaceted artist who has draped our pages with wonder, under numerous aliases and collabs, for almost a decade. On ‘Hometown Girl’ they distill transience and flux into a quiet set of chamber works subtly resembling the room recorded nuance of their ‘Jazz Plates’ side with Perila - here taken a step further into more elusive, low-lit dimensions.

In a mode that’s wistful and melancholic, listening to the album’s dozen discrete pieces feels like leafing thru a journal of hand-written notes, reflecting on the feelings that come with separation from loved ones and displacement from familiarity. Ulla performed and recorded all of the instruments themselves, lending a tangible tactility to layered arrangements of woodwind, keys, strings, drums and voice, lightly speckled with electronics and perfused with open window field recordings.

They locate a crackling frisson of personality in the voice notes and day-dreaminess of their mottled inscapes, gauzily demarcating lines between past and present selves. In that aesthetic and approach we can also hear similarities to Jonnine’s blue-skied ‘Southside Girl’ or crys cole’s poetic sensuality, often leaning into the domestic surreal.

A frayed, opening salutation ‘Good Morning’ signals a delirious half hour in Ulla’s company, variously swaying to the downstroked jazz swing of a ‘Lavender (NF)’ spritzed with clarinet, whilst ‘Froggy Explorer’ stirs the air like Jan Jelinek on a barely-there tip. The Basinski-esque fritz of degraded loops really snags the imagination along with a twinkling nightlight ‘Ball’, as the album opens out into its most fully resolved songs with a closing couplet of disarming wonders ‘Drawing of Me’, and a blurry ‘Mute’ that feels like Ulla 〜almost〜 reveals too much before retreating back into the shadows.

Step into the ethereal soundscape of Mark Vernon's LP, "The Dramaturgy of Decay." Reminiscent of early fears surrounding recording technology, the album explores ghostly voices, distorted and elusive. Vernon's sonic cinema mirrors the decay found in ruined films, capturing the essence of disappearing places and voices. Amidst themes of death and environmental destruction, the album maintains a delicate balance with humor and familiarity. Through snippets of reworked audio letters, it unveils a soundscape of forgotten moments, extracting life from the transient. "The Dramaturgy of Decay" is a beautifully haunting reflection on time through sound--an otherworldly musical experience for the present.

2026 Repress

Flickering in ultraviolet, there is an elusive place where blue pill meets red, ups become downs, and day merges with night. Those liminal spaces where anything is possible is where you’ll find Nightbus and their hypnotic debut album Passenger. Doom, uncertainty, and opportunity lurk in the shadowy corners of their murky existence with stops at disassociation, co-dependency, and addiction before reaching its final destination - a glimmer of hope.

The in-between of Nightbus’ own Gotham lies where Manchester’s city pulse meets Stockport’s outer realm. An audio-visual entity formed among a musical family of friends, freaks, and foes in messy mills and after hours on dancefloors alike, their sound bleeds from tension where collective creative forces are bound together and collide with the fallout of being torn apart. Before even playing a show, their So Young released single ‘Mirrors’ – a knowing nod of respect to some well-known gloomy Northerners - may have made old school indie heads shimmy at shows in Salford’s The White Hotel but also signalled the duo’s knack for offering listeners a Bandersnatch approach to hitchhiking their own personal Nightbus in whatever direction they choose to take. “Everyone can have their moment with our songs; the music is our response to who we are as young people, living in the city full of this energy right now,” they say.

Whilst reverb hefty melodies and dread-filled loops embody isolation from writing at each of their home studio set-ups, magic happens in the ether across 90s trip-hop, indie sleaze and electronica; Jake’s production layers Olive’s pop sentimentality with drums and samples whilst tales of a cast of faceless characters place Olive as puppet master; her severed self’s perspective manipulating their stringed limbs at arm’s length to see how their stories play out when scenes reflecting her own lie close to the bone. “It’s a bit fucked; like having this out of body experience with a made-up movie running through my head,” she says. “As I write I can see they’re all from a similar world, but they allow me to explore different feelings without giving away part of myself.”

Recorded at The Nave in Leeds with producer-engineer Alex Greaves (Heavy Lungs, Working Men’s Club), surprise and danger lies in every crevice. Brooding whispers turn to chants on 6-minute opus ‘Host.’ Improvised when performed live, its immersive shift in tempo leads to hefty dub courtesy of Jake’s pedals. Even then, you won’t know shit’s hit the fan until its mid-point reveal when ominous bass blasts a thunderous soundtrack as its protagonist defiantly walks away after committing the perfect crime. “It makes you wait, and more songs should have sirens,” Olive grins.

Leaning deeper into alter-egos via the video game-psychological horror of a Silent Hill dystopia, the band’s Fight Club moment ‘Angles Mortz’ turns its literal translation of death angles on its head as it reflects upon kink and internalised shame reincarnated as pride. Elsewhere the ice cool ‘Landslide’ is a Requiem for a Dream about the addiction of being in a band; ‘The Void’ explores co-dependency and estranged relationships; and carefully selected samples revive house track ‘Just A Kid’ from the band’s early incarnation. Passenger’s every direction is to face challenges head on. “That is what’s so great about horror; you can see through predictable patterns so when the unexpected occurs it's more realistic and uncomfortable… I want to own the dark stuff!”

As for Passenger’s first single, the pulsating ‘Ascension’ is a spiralling deep dive into death, suicide, and legacy around who or what we leave behind. A noughties club banger by way of NYC beats - ergonomically designed for those who like to stay out a little too often and too late - it throbs like a house party’s partition wall as the literal levelling up undergoes a neon transformation; blue glitching to pink, diffusing the white construct of the Nightbus Matrix. “It really does feel like the end of something and was purposely written that way,” they say, “the ascension is like a firework going off!”

With wheels in motion, Nightbus has become a movement surpassing sonic realms. Between shows from Porto to Brighton taking in The Great Escape, Rotterdam’s Left Of The Dial and Paris’ Supersonic; DJing; remixing; guesting (BDRMM’s Microtonic album); and even enlisting talented like-minds to craft a 3-part queer coming-of-age music video series which ties in with a new ‘hyperpop’ phase in the evolution of their popular Nightbus Soundsystem club night, heads are now being turned from sports brands to high-end fashion designers. “There are things we can’t reveal just yet,” tells Olive, “but we’re excited about the direction this beast we’ve created is heading.” As the album philosophises and asks one ultimate question; what does it truly mean to be ‘Passenger’? Nightbus may not claim to offer a definitive answer, but it might make you feel a bit better about those demons.

French chanson, electro beats, pared-down or synthetic piano: at 21, Iliona draws on all of this. Plural, multifaceted, elusive. Yet her lyrics resonate as if one were singing heartache—and the love one hopes for—for the very first time.
She composes, records, and produces her tracks alone, determined to keep them as close as possible to the tunes, harmonies, and silhouettes she holds in her mind. This time, they are infused with the light of an intense love, and still carried by extreme sparseness in their arrangements: nothing—from electronic arpeggios to melodic autotune—is ever superfluous; everything has its place. Lifted by a new lightness, the tracks also echo the spirit of the yéyé sound Iliona has been listening to for a few years, without necessarily knowing the name of every songwriter or the mark they left behind. It’s their longing for carefree abandon that hovers over the hypnotic Si tu m’aimes demain and its music video inspired by the New Wave, the Beatles, and all those future memories you begin to build when you’re in love.


A gentle warmth also sweeps through the hazy doo-wop contours of Tête brûlée, and the lo-fi twist of Cocoon; but always with that veil of shadow that once floated over the apparent nonchalance of Françoise Hardy’s songs. That unease, that worried smile, resurfaces in the lovely pop gallop of Garçon manqué, an ode to the deepest friendships—the ones you hold in your arms to dance or, sometimes, to cry. Or in the delicate Cent fois, which whispers, “when will the movie scenes we quietly dreamed of come to life?”
The answer, perhaps, lies in wherever you hide, the party finds you, a superb soundtrack to an imaginary drama, whose venomous keyboards unfold the pictorial strength of Iliona’s songs.

The new Endell Street release is another essential excavation from the deep, rare archives of London’s early 00’s tech house movement.

On the A side, the elusive T.V. Babies project finally sees the light of day, a hidden gem from some of the era’s most respected spinners, delivering that unmistakable after hours groove that defined the generation. Flip it over for the heavyweight Peace Division’s legendary remix of Smart Alex, a track that turned heads on the release and still carries the same raw, driving energy today.

A deep, funky and timeless slice of UK tech house, crafted for the heads and anyone tuned into the true Endell Street vibe.

Light in the Attic freut sich, Nancy Sinatras gleichnamiges Album von 1969 zu veröffentlichen. Diese neue Ausgabe und erste Vinyl-Neuauflage überhaupt von "Nancy" feiert eine der am wenigsten bekannten Phasen der verehrten Künstlerin. Nach drei Jahren im Rampenlicht und an der Spitze der Popmusik war Nancy Sinatra plötzlich in einer unerwarteten, aber irgendwie vertrauten Situation - ähnlich wie Anfang 1965. Sie war wieder einmal ohne Produzenten, ohne neue Songs und kämpfte darum, bei ihrem Label zu bleiben. Lee Hazlewood war Nancys Produzent und Duettpartner gewesen und hatte viele ihrer Hits geschrieben. Nach einer unglaublichen dreijährigen Erfolgsserie zog Lee plötzlich ohne Abschied nach Schweden. Nancy war überrascht und verletzt, aber sie machte weiter und entwickelte sich weiter. Sie fand einen Produzenten in ihrem langjährigen Arrangeur Billy Strange und entdeckte einen jungen Songwriter (und zukünftigen Superstar) namens Mac Davis, der ihr helfen würde, ihren Sound neu zu definieren. Dieses Album mit dem einfachen Titel ,Nancy" steht allein in ihrer Diskografie, versteckt zwischen ihren ikonischen Alben aus den 1960er Jahren und ihren funkigeren Werken aus den 1970er Jahren. Das Album enthält Country-Soul (,God Knows I Love You", ,Son of a Preacher Man"), zeitlose Balladen (,Memories") und eine atemberaubende orchestrale, bluesige Downtempo-Funk-Version von ,Light My Fire" von The Doors, die im besten Sinne an David Axelrod in Las Vegas erinnert. Es ist ein Übergangsalbum, ihr Abschiedswerk für Reprise Records, ein Favorit der treuen Fans und reif für eine Wiederentdeckung. Jede Vinyl-Ausgabe kommt in einer erweiterten Gatefold-Hülle (mit einem 12-seitigen Booklet), auf farbigem Vinyl und enthält eine Bonus-Flexi-Single mit dem bisher unveröffentlichten Titel "Longtime Woman (Early Alternate Version)", einem Outtake, das von Bob Elusive Butterfly Lind geschrieben wurde. Der Track mit dem atemberaubenden Gesang von Nancy und dem zarten Cembalo von Don Randi wurde von Lee Hazlewood während der Aufnahmen zum Album ,Nancy & Lee" im Jahr 1968 produziert.

When Chuck D proclaimed "Bass, how low can you go?" on Public Enemy's anthemic 'Bring the Noise,' maybe he was pre-empting or inciting the 10,000 fathoms-deep, spine-bending basslines and sub-quake tremors of 'Implosion.'

Implosion is a crushing split album, appropriately released on The Bug's own PRESSURE label. Mapping out a new form of spectral dub, the sound is deliberately immersive, introverted, and yes, definitely implosive. In pursuit of heavy lids, blurred vision, and merciless bass bin punishment, it’s one part meditation, two parts low-end theory, and essentially a confession of devoted sound system addiction.

As expected from a tag team featuring British soundlab explorer and 'London Zoo' composer Kevin Martin, aka The Bug, and Michael Fiedler, aka Jah Schulz—a long-time graduate of Germany's new school of sound system reggae culture—the duo approaches their target differently yet share the goal of keeping their sound "raw" (Fiedler) and "brutally minimal" (Martin). This proves that opposites can attract, even if their tools are different and their methods sometimes diverge.

From such a disparate combo, hailing from different geographical and aesthetic backgrounds, contrasts are certainly on display, even within each artist's own contributions. From the melancholia and transcendence of 'Alien Virus (West Indian Centre, Leeds),' to the duality of ascension and descension on 'Hope,' or the Sunn 0))) in dub, visceral drone of 'Dread (The End, London),' to the tripped-out repetitions of 'Midnight,' which reinvents Chain Reaction for post-millennials, the result is both sacred and narcotic. Each track illuminates the emotional impact and atmospheric pressure being explored across this deceptively sparse album—a mastery of tone and texture.

This collection might be as reduced, minimal, and deep as The Bug has ever gone, perhaps echoing the solemnity of his recent Kevin Richard Martin Black release and invoking the futurist steppas self-pioneered on his previous Pressure album. Alternatively, Fiedler‘s Ghost Dubs project ventures into his most heavyweight direction yet, which is no mean feat considering his previous, the critically acclaimed album Damaged, was a monstrously massive triumph of analogue weight and enviable sound design.

Implosion is ice-cool, a stark contrast to the warmth and sociability of traditional Jamaican roots and the current trends in digi-dub. Instead, the mood is soaked in tension and intense dread, finding an unexpected melting point where classic dub's stark rhythm attack, isolationist ambience's eerie drift, dub techno's floatation strategies, and even the relentless riffs of doom metal collide. As the bass-obsessed pair drop what is arguably the heaviest ambient dub album to emerge from any electronic sector—a moody counterpoint to The Orb's fluffy clouds, etc, Martin has cited The Roots Radics, Black Jade, and On U Sound's Pounding System as heavily influencing his approach to the album, while Fiedler has expressed his admiration for Adrian Sherwood's productions and Rhythm & Sound's enchanting soundscape. Yet, the super heavyweight pulsations, emotive resonances, and bone-rattling vibrations detonated here effortlessly go far beyond these influences.

Shadowy and elusive, there’s a mysteriousness at this record's core. A haunting moodiness oscillating between nostalgia and future shock. Despite the deadly fixation with SLOW and HEAVY, the album maintains a totally hypnotic swing throughout. Implosion and its lead single 'Imploded Versions' are testaments to being enveloped in bass, seduced by bass, submerged in bass, and utterly crushed by bass, as The Bug and Ghost Dubs seek to craft a new form of dub for zonal headz and Babylon seekers.

Mastered by Stefan Betke (a.k.a. POLE) at Scape Mastering studio, this record is heavy as f-ck without resorting to continuous distortion. It’s low-end worship taken to an absolute extreme, yet remains highly listenable and definitely danceable, albeit at the slowest of paces. Sacred and narcotic, this is low-end worship amplified to the max. Dive in if you dare.

Drummer and NEA Jazz Master Billy Hart releases his first live album, MULTIDIRECTIONAL, with his longtime all-star quartet featuring saxophonist Mark Turner, pianist Ethan Iverson, and bassist Ben Street. --- Legendary drummer Billy Hart credits the great Rashied Ali for introducing him to the term “multidirectional” – a descriptor for the elusive, daring approach to the kit that Hart and others of his generation had developed intuitively in response to the increasing freedom and exploration of the era’s jazz experimentation. “Rashied Ali told me that ‘multidirectional’ was what John Coltrane called this freeform feel, where conventional structure was abandoned and the rhythms could cut in any direction,” he writes in Oceans of Time: The Musical Autobiography of Billy Hart, his captivating new memoir. Hart had begun to explore that style under the influence of Coltrane’s pioneering work, first venturing into the terrain while playing with Pharoah Sanders at the famed East Village club Slugs’. More than half a century later, Hart has refined and evolved the approach into a singular percussive voice of unparalleled elegance, finesse, and intricacy – as exemplified on MULTIDIRECTIONAL, the first live recording by his longstanding quartet featuring tenor saxophonist Mark Turner, pianist Ethan Iverson, and bassist Ben Street.

Utilizing only guitar, bass and drums, Papir conjure vast and melodic soundscapes while still maintaining a krautrock drive. One of the most unique bands in the modern European psych rock scene, they continue to innovate as they refine their sound with each album. Copenhagen"s foremost aural travelers are back and bearing new music. True to their distinct sound, Papir return with another chapter in their ongoing sonic journey. Terms like post-rock, ambient rock, psychedelia, and krautrock may circle their sound, but none quite capture its shimmering, elusive magic. IX is a wide-open record in every sense. From the flowing compositions - which linger but never overstay, jam and unfold organically - to the wonderful airy production, you get the sense of being both in studio with the band and simultaneously on the beach with wind blowing through your hair. In addition to the ever free-flowing nature of the band"s live recordings, additions such as synthesizer or extra percussion appear always tastefully right when needed, adding the perfect seasoning on top.

Toyah’s 1994 solo album Take The Leap! is issued on limited edition picture disc vinyl for the first time ever.

The picture disc features colour images on each side of the vinyl and is housed in special die-cut outer sleeve containing previously unseen photography from the original album shoot.

Toyah’s 1994 studio album was recorded with Salisbury band Friday Forever and includes eight re-recordings of classic Toyah material and six original compositions.