quête:the futures

2LP Over the past decade, SUED co-founder SW. has arranged the building blocks of dreamy rave and techno music-billowing pads, undulating sub-bass and adroit, nuanced drum programming-into and novel dance floor structures. TRUElipS, SW.’s first full album since 2016 and his first for Avenue 66, is a beguiling, fully-realised statement. The 12-track LP is rooted in the storied ’90s era when the spirit of orbital raves and free parties was channeled into massive leaps forward in the studio. A combination of house and drum & bass looms large, as does the much-referenced intelligent techno era, but if you’ve listened to an SW. record, you already know TRUElipS is the work of a singular auteur. Breakbeats, rave stabs and major chords permeate the album, motoring along on a chassis of sine-wave bass lines and SW’s widescreen percussive vision. Forays into downtempo and sweeping ambience keep the listener’s head in the clouds, while the superb melodic techno constructions that comprise the album’s core are at once contemplative and liable to bring on a giddy head rush. TRUElipS brims with the optimistic, escapist spirit that fueled dance music’s original triumph, a throwback to bright, imagined futures.

clocolan is Emlyn Ellis Addison, a South African artist now living in Providence, Rhode Island. Exploring themes of ontology and psychedelia, his is a music of imaginary futures—of neglected hinterlands and unconquered vastness lost in the background noise of human endeavor.

Addison’s 2017 album, Nothing Left To Abandon, examined the experience of memory while his new album, It’s Not Too Early For Each Other, examines a more pressing experience: the ecosystemic collapse. clocolan dotes once more on dusty melancholy and electronic psychedelia in his new album, pressing into darker territory and more visceral textures.

It’s Not Too Early For Each Other examines the looming inevitability of a future shaped by mankind's destruction of natural ecosystems—and its seeming inability to alter that course. This music is dedicated to the pariahs: the messengers who confront the murder of the ecosystem.

Emlyn was introduced to Colin Morrison at Castles in Space by Strictly Kev AKA DJ Food. It's proving to be an incredibly fruitful collaboration and a third clocolan long player is already delivered and undergoing mastering for future release on Castles in Space.

Clear Smoked Vinyl

180 gram clear with smoke vinyl w/download card.
In sharp contrast to McCagh's commercial work for Huawei, Acura, and Volkswa-gen, "Altered States" is a detailed opening statement of experi-mental aural vignettes by an artist that has clearly spent the time to master his craft. Digitally manipulated acoustic instruments form the backbone for McCagh's wall-of-sound aesthetic painting pictures of bleak futures where the tracks dance, or more aptly, shiver their way to sharp collapse.

In short, McCagh makes ambient music with teeth. A form of experimental music with soul, or faded formation of industrialized machine music shrouded by layers of aural gauze, each piece emotively twist-ing and turning in and out of focus. "Altered States" is a brilliant inaugural proclamation from artist to watch.

The Garden is another timelessly classic album from a seminal electronic band and an essential soundtrack to any laidback listening.

‘Portuguese electronic alchemist Bruno Silva aka Ondness aka Serpente lands his first ever vinyl release as Ondness on the ever-evolving SOUK imprint. The last year couldn’t have been better for Bruno Silva. Two major releases under his moniker Serpente, “A Noiva” (Tormenta Eléctrica) and “Parada” (Ecstatic) and a Ondness tape, “Not Really Now Not Any More” (Holuzam). “O Meio Que Sumiu” is the first vinyl release by Ondness, following more than a dozen releases on tape, CDRs and digital. He’s also graduating to vinyl on the Discrepant family, after his 2018 tape “Celas Death Squad” combining Serpente and Ondness works as a split.

“Meio Que Sumiu” can be translated as the “community that disappeared” and it alludes to the disappearance of outdoors communities and how it affects the music we listen (and how we listen to it). Ondness wanted to release an album less about himself and his inspirations and more about his aspirations about how dance music could be in an era of constant interactivity and information.

But also, how it fails to be that aspiration. Once again, like in “Not Really Now Not Any More”, Bruno works in the territory of science fiction. Investigating the present and future with nostalgia about how things could be and could evolve.
It’s music in the realm of non- existing, instead of raving nostalgia about dance music from the 1990s, Bruno explores the idea of possible futures with different approaches to dance/electronic music in each song.

In “Meio Que Sumiu” it’s obvious his music has matured and found its listenes. Bruno is no longer a bedroom musician. (He never was, but he sure worked on that idea. And very well, we might say). The dancefloor is now his, with music that explores the deeper immersion of ourselves. Communities may be changing, but the principles of dance music are always the same. Even with motion sickness for future nostalgia, like the music in “Meio Que Sumiu”.

C.Y.M. is the collaboration between British producer and DJ Mike Greene (otherwise known as Fort Romeau) and LA-based American musician Chris Baio, who releases music as Baio in addition to playing bass in the acclaimed band Vampire Weekend. Their debut, self-titled EP arrives on Phantasy as an elegant pean to the infinite possibilities of kosmische music, driven by a motorik strain of psychedelia. The foundations of a wider project, C.Y.M. speaks not for analogue nostalgia, but a subtle and modern update on imagined futures that are still open to interpretation.
‘Capra’ immediately establishes the duo’s masterful if unsurprising grip on rhythm, a man-machine stomp that persists as the track takes myriad turns, from post-punk guitar licks and processed vocals, through bubbling modular synthesis and culminating in a soaring, cathartic melody. On ‘Far Gone’ C.Y.M. turn their studio inward for a more brooding and intimate interpretation of their sound, a balearic amalgam of intriguing vocals, feedback soaked riffs and no-wave inspired movement. The bliss beneath the waves of noise that crash across C.Y.M’s music emerges fully on the driving conclusion, ‘Super-Cannes’. A hypnotic tempo and blistering drums intertwine with whirling organs, and shimmering keys, providing a wistful and warm finale.

‘Green & Gold’ is the second collaborative release from Mr Key & Greenwood Sharps, the long awaited follow up to their
critically acclaimed 2015 album ‘Yesterday’s Futures’. The record was written and recorded between Greenwood Sharps’
cottage in the verdant English countryside and the off grid Finca in the foothills of the Andalusian Sierra Nevada, Spain where
Key is based.
The title has multiple meanings none of which are anything to do with weed or money. First and foremost, green and gold are
the colours which synesthete (a person who sees sound) Greenwood Sharps, composed the record in. It also alludes to the
dialogue between the green of the UK and the dusty gold of Andalucia which created the project. Finally green and gold speaks
of the dynamic between the sun and photosynthesising organisms, the driving force of life on earth.
‘Yesterday’s Futures’ took the listener on a meandering journey through a vast landscape of moods, sounds and ideas,
leading ultimately to redemption and the possibility of resolution. Thematically, ‘Green & Gold’ picks up where ‘Yesterday’s
Futures’ left off, but structurally it takes the opposite tack; an extended exploration of a single ubiquitous idea: universal love for
all things and all people and the challenge of maintaining these shiny ideals in day to day life, as our cynical side reasserts itself.
Key’s first output after an extended hiatus from releasing music makes it obvious that during this time he continued honing his
craft. The unique perspectives and disarming honesty which set him apart from his peers remain, but his technical prowess and
capacity to convey sentiment are notably enhanced. The same applies to Greenwood Sharps, who’s masterful production has
risen to new heights yet still maintains the rich and subtle sonic palette he has become known for.
Dropping alongside the EP is a short film featuring the works of long time collaborator Jamie Johnson, the man behind the
artwork for both ‘Green & Gold’ & ‘Yesterday’s Futures’. The short film is the visual counterpart to the EP and serves as the
perfect introduction to the world of ‘Green & Gold’ as it visually explores all the themes present in the music & provides a snap
shot of the incredible tracks on offer.
In a troubled and busy world, marred with anxieties and uncertainties, ‘Green & Gold’ comes as a breath of fresh air and offers some valuable food for thought for those searching for real heart felt substance rather than the sanitised, individualised &
commodified norm we have all become accustomed to.

In her most personally narrative work to date, A Fossil Begins To Bray is the follow up on Dais Records for NYC producer Hiro Kone, furthering the dialogue set forth on her 2018 release, Pure Expenditure. While the statements on Pure Expenditure rallied behind a point of dangerous excess and injustice, the material on A Fossil Begins To Bray embark upon a journey of discovery and selfanalysis, proposing a potential reorientation towards absence in hopes of illuminating potential futures.

In Mao’s own words, “This album considers the power of absence as neither a lack or deficit, but as a quiet, indeterminable force to cultivate in this time of looming and unrelenting techno-fascism. It asks that we take pause to consider our learned languages and actualities and to better consider how desire shapes our recollections and interpretations of this ‘existence.’” This allegory is expertly applied to every song on A Fossil Begins To Bray. Mao has established a long history of employing absence in her productions to maximum effect. With a vast assortment of diverse elements at play, no single track ever feels overly convoluted and further illustrates Hiro Kone’s skillful attention to dynamic tension and flow. Tracks such as “Fabrication of Silence” and “Submerged Dragon” perfectly represent the power of absence, utilized in a matter to create unique amalgams of decisive, cinematic techno rhythms from the electronic void. As the melodic elements contained within A Fossil Begins To Bray begin to unravel and slowly take form, the unaware are rewarded with a driving yet tangible refrain that offers resolve in contrast to the dense, textureladen backdrop that forms the album’s foundation. The first single, “Feed My Ancestors”, expands upon Hiro Kone’s signature take on electronic music structures. Seemingly free from the predictable contracts imposed by any one genre’s stereotypes, Hiro Kone throttles the foreboding bassline in favor of more calculated, abstract cut-ups that gracefully hold the track in place between hopeful utopia and something more ominous.

Mihail P (Verdant/Where We Met/Magnonic Signals) returns to Distant Worlds with 4 more communiques of inter-dimensional wonder. Here, the Macedonian sonic strategist sets his sound palette ever wider whilst still maintaining his signature emotional pads and haunting melodies integral to all his productions. His hauntological approach bears fruit throughout -the future fails us so let's explore different futures, different interpretations of the past, the present. Certainly a maturation in sound, this manifesto offers up 4 distinct meditations on the continuum of electronic sound from the early 90s through to the present day and beyond...

Make Mistakes head honcho Roy England teams up with pianist AC Jones to deliver The Shadow Gallery, a sprawling, hypnotic love letter to the dance floor. Music for the modern dance floor, with classic flare, and its heart on its sleeve.

From High On You, to Wayfaring at the end, The Shadow Gallery delivers a cohesive, focused musical journey. But, We Can Make It delivers best on the albums promise. Classic house grooves and bass propel the track forward, with AC’s piano weaving a melodic counterpoint to the relentless dance floor hustle.

While the front half of The Shadow Gallery begs for the afterhours sweatbox, the back half delivers peak hour party cuts for lovers. Anchored in the middle by the title track, The Shadow Gallery, a tune that would sit comfortably in any epic house journey. By crafting such a smooth progression through the collaboration, Shadow Gallery works just as well as sit down, and listen to some true pros bringing their skills together in a way that feels evokes the ghostly spirit of dance music’s past, while creating a modern sound for discerning ears.

Get some.

“We have no idea, now, of who or what the inhabitants of our future might be. In that sense, we have no future. Not in the sense that our grandparents had a future, or thought they did. Fully imagined cultural futures were the luxury of another day, one in which 'now' was of some greater duration. For us, of course, things can change so abruptly, so violently, so profoundly, that futures like our grandparents' have insufficient 'now' to stand on. We have no future because our present is too volatile. ... We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment's scenarios. Pattern recognition”

― William Gibson, Pattern Recognition

Eric Maltz Had A Busy 2018 With The Release Of The First Two Records On His Label Flower Myth, The Frenetic Pathway Ep And The Dub-techno Informed Estuaries Ep. The Smashing Vocal Single Naked Broken Followed On Possible Futures As Well As A Remix For Marlon Hoffstadt, A Debut Performance At Berlin's Atonal Festival And To Close The Year, A Live Set At Tresor With Close Friend Levon Vincent Whose Novel Sound Label Released Eric's 2017 Double Ep Ns-17.

2019 Is Gearing Up To Be Just As Busy And Kicks Off With 'dream Journal', Two Long Form Cuts For Deep Dancefloors.

A Side 'dream Journal' Is One For The Rem Cycles. A Development Of Maltz' Signature Psychedelic Deep House Sound, Dub Sound Effects Jump In And Out Of Focus, Swirling Arpeggios Pan Across The Stereo Field And A Playful Piano Solo Take Turns At The Center Of The Stage As A Deep Bass Line And Funk-ready Drum Machine Hold The Fort.

On The Flip, 'subliminal Virgo' Is Exactly That, Hitting With A Loose Breakbeat And Echoes Of "dream Journal" Before Settling Into An Unstoppably Subby 4x4 Throb. A Synth Solo Hides Deep Under The Layers As Maltz Adventures Into The Dark Chasms Of Thought Gaps

Black Rain returns with Computer Soul: the final part of a sequence of Blackest Ever Black releases that began with 2011's Now I'm Just A Number: Soundtracks 1994-95, and a first glimpse of the project's richly imagined future. For this outing Stuart Argabright (Ike Yard, Dominatrix, Death Comet Crew) is joined by BR founder member Shinichi Shimokawa as well as more recent recruit Soren Roi and Zanias (vocalist on 2015's Dark Pool) - making for the most most group-oriented iteration of Black Rain since its earliest days. Sonically too, there is a sense of evolution but also of coming full circle: the cyberpunk techno of Argabright's celebrated William Gibson soundtracks (compiled on Now I'm Just A Number) and extrapolations of Dark Pool's neuromantic yearning cut with glimpses of the thrash and industrial rock energies that animated Black Rain's incendiary live shows - and sought-after tapes for Kombinat and TPOS - in the early 90s. More than ever, Black Rain is propelled by a powerful science fiction impulse, whether responding to the themes and characters of Gibson's Sprawl or the Blade Runner universe (particularly K.W. Jeter's spin-off/continuation novels which extended its mythology, and timeline, further). It's not news that many of these works' most powerful predictions and prophesies have come to pass - the replicants are already living among us - so Computer Soul projects further into several possible unforeseen futures, its events 'set' in the second half of the current century, fifty or so years after those of Dark Pool. The hyperpopulated metropolises of Dark Pool are no more; the apartments are empty, haunted by ghosts of AC current, devices and machines running lonely without their owners...a melancholy internet of things. Where has everyone got to Gone but perhaps not gone. Oblivion beckons - always does - but on the other side of that, something else... another time, another place, a river....and a new way of living.

The Moments' On Top is a perfect example of symphonic soul. Amongst true heads, this is considered the most valuable of all their albums; an original copy of this LP, if you can find one, starts at around $75. Alongside contemporaneous acts from the early 70s - The Chi-lites, The Stylistics, The Delfonics, The Futures, Blue Magic and The Main Ingredient - The Moments exuded all that was compelling about deep, harmony-drenched, string-laden soul. The standout here is undoubtedly 'To You with Love", a floating, tender ballad sung by Harry Ray that features the group's patented handclap-tambourine combo, sweetly repetitive strings, serene guitar and gentle piano. It was famously sampled by J Dilla for 'Last Donut Of The Night' - the gut-wrenching finale to his seminal Donuts. Concentrating solely on its sampled history would do The Moments a huge disservice, but its crucial appearance at the climax of Donuts directed fresh generations of pre-disposed soul fans to the absolute canon. Judged entirely on its merit, it's one of the most heart-breaking songs of any decade and worth the price of admission alone. It's the sweetest, most goose-bump inducing 3 minutes of aural bliss you're ever likely to be exposed to. If that wasn't enough, On Top spawned two minor R&B hits: 'All I Have' and 'Lucky Me", each featuring Billy Brown's ice-melting falsetto. Opener 'All I Have' is a sumptuous introduction to the album. With melancholic, understated guitar licks, twinkling keys and heartbeat drums, it's a gem.

Lost Futures is a new label that explores experimental and often radical approaches to dance music from the past. In a musical landscape that increasingly claims to seek and reward new forms and ideas, Lost Futures delves into the recent past to revisit forward-thinking, optimistic projects that, owing to the social, musical or outright political climate, perhaps struggled to find an audience. Allowing only time to re-contextualise these leftfield, sometimes misunderstood and ultimately human bodies of work, Lost Futures taps into the inherent idealism of rave.

LF001 trips back until the early nineties to revisit the alternative scene emerging from the Dutch city of Utrecht. Here, three young men - DJ Zero One (Sander Friedeman), TJ Tape TV (Arno Peeters) and DJ White Delight (Richard van der Giessen) - joined forces to form 'The Awax Foundation'. Inspired by the transcendent and revolutionary electronic music arriving on their shores imported from Chicago and Detroit, combining their knowledge, gear and ever-expanding vinyl collection allowed additional freedom in paying sincere tribute to these intoxicating sounds, while also developing their tastes in a more personal, eclectic direction.

The musical flavours of Awax initially leaned toward acid house and the roots of techno. However, with three different mindsets in the mix, their tastes were rarely fixed. One thing each shared in common was a devotion to collecting rare sounds, specifically more adventurous and international samples than those emanating from the increasingly-hard, masculine dance music emerging from the Netherlands during the period. Inspired by the cross-over global sound of bands like Suns of Arqa, or 'World Music', as it was perhaps patronisingly termed at the time, the trio became interested in the idea of making techno with 'ethnic instruments'.

Of course, this being 1992, none of The Awax Foundation had access to such instruments, instead, they had a vast, collective library of samples from all over the world. There were no collaborations and no clear plan. Instead, they set to work using a Yamaha TX16W sampler, the legendary Atari 1040ST computer, a cheap mixing desk and a couple of low-end synths and FX machines. When Richard mentioned the project to his friend, Akin Fernandez, the London DJ and owner of cult label Irdial Discs, Fernandez was intrigued enough to invite the trio to record a one-hour show for his 'Monster Music Radio' series on London's then-burgeoning Kiss FM.

Forced to come up with a name, 'CultureClash' seemed like the obvious choice, even if the members of Awax were only creatively sparring among themselves. Along with the term 'ethno-techno', slightly dubious to a hopefully more conscious Western audience in 2017, these were the only guiding principles to the quietly ambitious project that soon combined cutting-edge machine rhythms with samples sourced from everywhere from Bolivia to Togo, and inspired by everything from Ravi Shankar's epic soundtrack to the Oscar-winning movie Ghandi, to the technical limits of their own setup requiring a dazzling degree of cut-and-paste work. Some tracks even emerged out of academic studies within the ethnomusicology department at The University of Amsterdam.

The show aired on October 2nd, 1992, recorded in one blistering take and without any rehearsals, traversing a huge variety of tempos and styles. If the performance wasn't seamless, it was undeniably thrilling, fresh and ambitious. As such, several labels, including Fernandez's aforementioned Irdial Discs expressed an interesting in commercially releasing CultureClash, while another imprint proposed a series of twelve-inches and an album. But the sheer complexity of the project meant that it never saw the light of day, while the trio embarked on different journeys ahead, both creative and personal.

Twenty five years later, and the original CultureClash lineup and founding members of The Awax Foundation provide the sound of the first release from Lost Futures. An otherworldly, ambitious and optimistic compilation, accompanied by extensive sleeve notes from the trio, CultureClash is a timeless ode to experimentation in dance music's ever-overlapping culture.

New York producer and pianist Eric Maltz lives in Berlin. He produces and mixes his music in a simple, subtle and elegant way and puts his music out on his own label - Flower Myth.
In 2017, Eric Maltz released his first record on Levon Vincent's Novel Sound, including the splendid 'We Have Power', an ode to freedom and celebration of life, featuring the warm vocals of Peruvian Cristina Valentina.
On the brooding rhythmic dancefloor, Cristina's voice opens up and reminds of the power of a meaningful lyric, how a loving message can touch the heart ever so strongly.
Over the past year, 'We Have Power' has become a permanent fixture in the Possible Futures record bag. The two had to learn more about Eric and Cristina. 'Naked Broken' is the first engraving of this newly formed and inspiring musical friendship. A hot groover rooted in a rich NY House tradition, featuring di erent versions for the adventurous DJ.
Eric Maltz & Cristina Valentina played live in Berlin on September 2nd, for The Hot Run! - the annual Possible Futures open-air summer dance, along with Elena Colombi, Kassem Mosse, Sassy J and Tom Trago.

The sun does not move. The sun has never seen a shadow. - Leonardo da Vinci
Paul and Alessio of Possible Futures believe that some essential fractions in the history of music need to be transmitted in new ways to budding generations. As we seek to bring together a new educational system around contemporary music, we urge anyone with homologous intentions to get in touch.
Over the last 15 years, Possible Futures have been witnesses to the wildest fauna and flora the great nocturnal jungle has to o er.
Possible Futures source their inspiration from the many shades of color that co-exist between black and white on the great designer's palette.
It is through their open and eclectic selections that Possible Futures turn the dancefloor into spaces of self-discovery and musical trance-en-dance.
Possible Futures believe that the eternal act of dancing is one of the most active form of contemplation. Facing our own selves in the mirror of movement, we realize that we indeed are reflections of one another at all times. Compassion forms and in turns gives way to kindness and love.
For this third record, Argentinean expert producer Leonel returns with two long pieces of poetry. Releasing on June 15th, this third edition in the Possible Futures catalog bridge spring into summer in a most gracious manner.
We Cherish Harmony, PF

"The kind of melancholia I'm talking about, by contrast, consists not in giving up on desire, but in refusing to yield. It consists, that is to say, in a refusal to adjust to what current conditions call 'reality' - even if the cost of that refusal is that you feel like an outcast in your own time." (Mark Fisher, Ghosts Of My Life, Zero Books 2014, p. 24) In Ghosts of My Life: Writings on Depression, Hauntology and Lost Futures', the author Mark Fisher outlines - to put it in a big way - a resistant melancholy. This stands in contrast to leftist melancholy resignation', as well as something which Fisher does not talk about: its common masculine counterpart, habitual post-left cynicism - as in seen it all before'. Fisher calls this hauntological melancholy. Haunting, spooks, ghosts and apparitions are an almost constant presence on I Started Wearing Black', the second album by the Cologne-based artist Sonae (pronounced so-nah'). The term hauntology shares a fate with retro-futurism when it comes to inflationary overuse and abuse. It's a conceptual container that looks good and can hold a lot, indeed, too much. Furthermore, hauntology has its peak season behind it, a term on the threshold of its expiration date. Nevertheless, I would like to rehabilitate hauntology and use it properly to characterize I Started Wearing Black', because the term is rarely as compelling to describe music as is the case here. The most recent other example could be Asiatisch' by Fatma Al Qadiri, but with a completely different frame of reference. What are the ghosts of this music It rustles, crackles, ruffles, crunches, rattles, scrapes, sometimes a beat emerges from the constant noise, sometimes an obscure voice mumbles incomprehensibly, sometimes a melancholy piano figure is prevented by this noise from coming too much to the foreground. It definitely is eerie - to bring into play another term used by Fisher in the title of his latest book, The Weird and the Eerie'. In British pop-jargon, eerie first occurred to me more often when referring to particularly leftfield, spooky and... well... ghostly dub, a bass-heavy, echoing noise, from Augustus Pablo to Creation Rebel to Burial. Unlike the Wald & Wagner records by Wolfgang Voigt, Sonae is not a kind of neo-romantic veiling with a tendency for escapist nebula. It is more a noise of latency. The noise signals a latent - not necessarily acute - threat, a latent uneasiness about... yes... about what About a System Immanent Value Defect' That's the name of a track on I Started Wearing Black' where something that sounds like a French Horn (or a foghorn) battles for attention through or against the background noise. An email from Sonae: The piece 'System Immanent Value Defect' should actually be called 'I See Turkey'. I wrote it for my fellow student Elif - she is a pianist and Gezi Park activist from Istanbul. Through her I witnessed the inner conflict and agitation that political circumstances can create: her feelings of guilt when there was an attack, with her safe in Germany as a student, watching the events from afar. It was horrible. When her mother begged her not to come home because she feared for her safety, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. I started with the piece from this mood, beginning with the piano, then the noise (modulated sinusoidal curves), which reminded me of waves and the then heatedly discussed Mediterranean sea: atmospheric, melancholy motifs. In contrast is the anger, the pressure, represented in corresponding sounds - hopefully audible! - During this time I started to think about world views as they can be found around the globe, in how far they held by societies and their political representation. I realized that I know of no political system that is actually about the people and what would do them good. It's always about positions, power, money. I thought that was a lot more frightening on a global scale than merely viewing Turkey in isolation. That's why the piece is called "System Immanent Value Defect", because our world suffers from precisely that. Everywhere, it's all about the wrong things.' Between the wrong things there are happy moments. In the title track, after 184 seconds of rattling and hissing, a beat is unleashed, like an arrow released from a spanned bow, a beatific relief, if there is such a thing. White Trash Rouge Noir' first meanders along spookily, then after 144 seconds it transforms itself into a distant cousin of Einstu¨rzende Neubauten's Yu¨ Gung', but there is no Big Male Ego to be fed here, and the black in the album title is a completely different type of black from that of the Neubauten. Furthermore, I Started Wearing Black' was finished long before the black dresses were worn at the Golden Globes as a sign of protest against sexual violence. Sonae writes that she herself started wearing black some time ago. Her reasons are so-called personal ones: ... resulting from an individual situation (lovesickness), I started to wear black (gaining weight and feeling ugly).' The political dimension of gaining weight, feeling ugly and therefore dressing in black in I Started Wearing Black' lurks within the noise and never becomes explicit and only rarely manifest - or a manifesto. Sonae writes about the track We Are Here': A piece for minorities... in this case, considering the current pop-feminist discourse, explicitly for women. Female artists have long been saying loud and clear that 'we are here' and 'electronic music is not a boys club!' But this pop-feminist moment should only be seen as one part of the dedication of the piece. It is for minorities, for the oppressed, who didn't belong enough.'

Klaus Walter

Tadd Mullinix first made a name for himself as Dabrye in the early 2000s with a pair of instrumental albums combining the rhythmic finesse of Detroit hip-hop with the ingenuity of electronic music. But instrumental beats were only a temporary goal, a way for Mullinix to catch the ears of MCs. On Two/Three, his second Dabrye album for Ghostly International, Mullinix brought together a formidable crew of local and national talent to make the statement he'd always intended. Released in 2006, Two/Three o-ered a fevered vision of rap's future that remains just as intoxicating a decade on. Ahead of the long-await-ed conclusion of Dabrye's hip-hop trilogy in 2018, Ghostly is reissuing Two/Three.

Dabrye's move towards rap began in 2004 with the album's first single, 'Game Over' featuring Jay Dee and Phat Kat. An early inspiration of Dabrye's, Jay Dee invited Mullinix to his crib in 2002 for a listening session during which he picked the 'Game Over' beat to rap on. Crucially everyone involved was in accord that despite perceptions of their respective work this would be a hardcore rap song. Together with Kat, Jay delivered a one-two lyrical punch on 'Game Over' that no one saw coming. Detroit made the world go round and everyone's head spun. 'Game Over' set the tone for the album and, over the next few years, became a Detroit anthem — shortly after Jay's passing in 2006 the audience at Movement Festival sung his verse.

Moody, propulsive, and above all ambitious, Two/Three emerges from a sonic stew of Detroit and UK dance music, Jamaican sound clashes, and hip-hop sampledelia. The guests, a who's who of the mid-'00s underground rap scene, engage in a raucous rhyming session that pays as much attention to the realities of the streets as it does world events. MF Doom, Wildchild, Vast Aire, Beans, and AG represent for the various coasts while local talents — Waajeed, Ta-Raach, Invincible, Finale, Kadence, Guilty Simpson, Big Tone, Phat Kat, and Jay Dee — bring Two/Three alive with an infectious energy. In between bursts of raw rap and hard beats, Dabrye showcases detailed instrumentals that evoke bleak industrial futures, underwater meditations, and smoky late night sessions. With Two/Three Dabrye placed himself at the forefront of hip-hop's new wave, throwing a Molotov cocktail into the rap world as uncompromising as the head-twisting cover art from WK Interact. The independent press praised Mullinix's audacity. Over the following years the impact of Two/Threewas felt in slow increments as Dabrye's music became central to the sonic makeup of a new generation of producers. As this beat scene grew and moved away from rap, it showed Mullinix the influence of his work and the value of his vision for Dabrye as his own brand of Detroit hip-hop.

This initial release on the new Futurepast label marks Davy's first output as a producer, crystallizing his endeavours in the studio and bearing witness to his long-standing experiments in electronic music.Built between London and Berlin over the last four years, The Long Now lays down the blueprints for following ventures on the label: using old and new gear to create unique, obscure soundscapes both outside of memory and away from nostalgic projections of lost futures. In a timeless and precise collaboration, Davy has brought together two historical figures for this release: 1990s R&S Records associate David Morley mixed the tracks,
while Simon Davey of The Exchange lent his renownedmastering skills to the project.Temporality, time travel and perception are key concepts for Davy, and not only in the EP's title.The four stripped-down tracks move forwards, sidewards and backwards in a bid to get us lost - not in space but in what time might sound like should we be swimming through it.Mysterious and ageless synths mesh with the beats of an unnamed drum machine under Davy's control.We move through a non-linear story told by three distinct forward-thinking techno titles:No Memories Planned, Circular Weeks and Causal Loop.Finally, the titular ambient track pans out cinematically over the images left in our heads:an invitation to begin it all again in The Long Now...

To progress towards a civilization which does not unconsciously perpetuate or aggravate inequality and poverty, we need to accept our many differences. For those who prefer uniformity or others who would rather avoid proximity, the celebration of diversity might sound ridiculous.
A certain measure of discomfort is required to reach compassion. But peace through diversity is no prophet's fantasy. It is no harder to imagine than the magical fact that we are alive right now.
The eternal act of dancing is one of the most active form of contemplation. Facing our own selves in the mirror of movement, we realize that we indeed are reflections of one another at all times. What will our own actions and thoughts feed around us
With over 30 years of combined dancefloor experience, Possible Futures have been witnesses to the wildest fauna and flora the great nocturnal jungle has to offer.
Sourcing their inspiration from the many shades of color that co-exist between black and white, it is through the open and eclectic selections of inspired and devoted luminaries that Possible Futures have found their manyfold sound: Frankie Knuckles, Larry Heard, Francois K, Carl Craig, Moritz von Oswald, DJ Harvey, Theo Parrish, Chez Damier, Ron Trent, DJ Deep or Moodymann, amongst so many others, have dedicated their lives to the flourishing of diversity on the dancefloor.
While the minds of Possible Futures float in the air with their bodies rotating behind the turntables, their feet are steadily rooted in reality, enabling their musical knowledge to unfold beyond the night. Through their own record label, Possible Futures share their therapeutic musical blends.
The first two cuts come from the grooves of Argentine old hand Leonel, a family friend of long date. 'Antares' and 'Bunda' drag their dusty trails across different genres, to be enjoyed at 45 rotations per minute. Curative properties guaranteed.

Seasoned memory athletes will no doubt recall the Turbo's past affiliation with the former Soviet Union (Proxy, Tiga Tigayevich Khristorozhdestvensky), and recent geopolitical developments have prompted the label to once again hedge its bets. Our A&R team spent countless hours sifting through layer after layer of Russian underground music, a shocking amount of which turned out to be fake SoundCloud accounts from producers based in Florida. In fact, our best intelligence suggests that Dimitri Veimar may be the only person making music in Russia today. For the 30 minutes a day he is not trading in politically moderate Twitter-bot futures, Veimar produces dark, raw-dog electro. He has already released music with Omnidisc and Renate, so it makes little sense to us why we have to communicate with him via a mole in the Canadian embassy in Moscow, which is further complicated by the fact that the mole is also an aspiring DJ/producer whom we have to keep happy at all costs. You have no idea how much has been sacrificed in order to shield you from the realpolitik of international dance music.

Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, Fit of Body (aka Ryan Parks) is part of a new generation of ATL producers; underground artists who draw on the space and grit of Southern hip hop and team it with curveball electronica discovered on late night, weed-fuelled web trawls.Having honed his sound on a string of feted self-released cassettes released on his own Harsh Riddims label - which has also put out everything from bizarro hip hop to gleaming synth pop - and dropped a hyped 12' released on the CGI imprint, the Healthcare EP finds Fit of Body delivering his most accomplished work to date. Five woozy original tracks jammed out on second hand drum machines, bass guitar, cheap mics and creaking synths, this is techno as it was first imagined; raw machine soul made for strange times and unknown futures.
Finding a commonality between Arthur Russell's vocal delivery, Jermaine Dupri's club shaking bass, and the militant drum attacks of Underground Resistance, the EP ghosts past rigid categories, instead taking a journey through heat and haze. On the A side, Parks switches between the languid analogue house of 56k, the melancholic Drexciyan electro of Ridin 2 That Trap or Die, and the lo-fi post punk grooves of 770-997-2341. On the flip he offers the late night 808 soul of Antonio Girl, followed by the uptempo techno ballad All This Time (Since), a song sad and euphoric in equal measure. On 12', the EP is closed with a remix from fellow ATL producer Divine Interface who stretches 56k into a glistening shard of time-stretched trip hop.

Visible Cloaks' Reassemblage is a collection of delicately rendered passages of silence and sound that invokes - and invites - consciousness. The foundation of the duo's second album is gently poured upon the ground their musical predecessors explored, using the materials of chance operations, MIDI translation,' and other generative principles that favor inclusive musical environments over the narrowly constrained.

In 2010, Spencer Doran, one part of Visible Cloaks alongside Ryan Carlile, prepared the first volume of Fairlights, Mallets, and Bamboo, a mixtape indicated by Doran as an investigation into fourth-world undercurrents in Japanese ambient and pop music, years 1980 - 1986.' These mixes contextualized the outré orbit of Yellow Magic Orchestra-related solo projects and their abstract, radiant forays as forever futuristic modes of music.

Reassemblage evokes similar musical futures celebrated on the Fairlights mixes, but does so observantly rather than reverently. The title Reassemblage, for example, is taken from a film essay by Trinh T. Minh-ha, which explores the impossibility of ascribing meaning to ethnographic images. The author aims to speak nearby' rather than speak about.' In other words, to embrace lapses of understanding, and realize that the impulse to map direct meaning across a cultural gap often results in further disconnect.

In an effort to speak nearby' rather than speak about,' Visible Cloaks filters and forms source material to become young again. Often the duo strip tonal elements of their specificity or randomize melodies so they become stirring and lucid. Essential patterns emerge, conscious experience heightens. In these moments, the musical language of Reassemblage finds unlimited resonance and presents a path to uninhabited realities.

The origin of this language could be described as translingual or polyglottal, working within the eastern / western feedback loop of influence, Fourth World ambiguity, and the universality of human emotion. Incorporating an international array of virtual instruments to advance the idea of panglobalism through digital simulation, tones and colors cohere into a living, breathing pool of sensorial experience in Visible Cloaks' environs.

Beyond embracing the fluidity of worldly musical influences, Visible Cloaks works fluently between mediums. The contribution of stalwart digital and installation artist Brenna Murphy's dream dimensions to Reassemblage's cover artwork and surrounding videos extends the album's exploration of global headspace into a visual, visceral reality.

Dear reader,

since Ramona presented all her disciples work throughout the first Lifesaver compilation in 2013, it's now time for another episode of togetherness. Summoning all of her artists around Frankfurt and those who live around the world, Ramona is now ready to present the Lifesaver Compilation 2. 

Kicked off by one of the Frankfurt young guns, the compilation leans into a melody-driven warm-up with a slight hint of analogue soul - "Digital Revolution" by Orson Wells. Next up is the Italian-born and now Berlin-based Massimiliano Pagliara. His contribution "Phasing Down The Sea" enriches the second Lifesaver installment with some of his signature synth-lines paired with a classic chicago-driven beat. The secret weapon from Kilianstädten also known as Mr. Melody, who goes by the name of Lauer, delivers a dark-italo and wave-ish piece topped off with the famous Lauer-craziness called "Language". Roman Flügel, the man of the hour, reinvents classic UK bleep-techno with Tender Hooligan". Another member of the young-guns-club, Chinaski, brings his certain level of synthesizer-love to the table with a track called Futuresex". Portable, one of Ramona's most delicate flowers, teamed up with Lcio again - together they created a hieroglyphic and deep-driven piece of music: "Dive In". TCB, also known as the only member of The Citizen's Band, delivers "Byrdmap", a solid piece of spheric deep and broken music. "Brainwashed" by Benedikt Frey marks the end of the compilation and simultaneously shows his dimension of futuristic dark-disco acid-madness. 

The Lifesaver compilation will be released as a double 12"-vinyl. Additionally Live At Robert Johnson will release an Extension-10"-vinyl containing two brand new tracks by the infamous Hotel Lauer and Tuff City Kids end of March 2015.

Be prepared,
Ramona

The new album will be released across a series of 4 limited edition 12" vinyls. This is the 2nd 12 inch From Tronic Jazz The Berlin Sessions. A Guy Called Gerald has spent the last couple of years flitting through shadows, turning up on labels like Perlon, Beatstreet and Sender like a peripatetic prophet of the Berlin underground, seeding the scene with cryptic singles that return to the past to suggest alternate futures. Now he returns to Berlin's Laboratory Instinct label with the follow-up to 2006's Proto Acid: The Berlin Sessions, the album that re-established Gerald as an acid hero and techno auteur. Tronic Jazz: The Berlin Sessions builds upon the foundation established by its predecessor to create an even more powerful statement of intent, one that communicates more persuasively than ever Gerald's vision for techno in its third decade of existence. One immediate difference stands out, this time around. Where Proto Acid offered a seamless mix of 24 cuts, recorded in one epic session, Tronic Jazz collects 13 standalone tracks. That's welcome news to DJs. After so many years of digital anything-goes, you might have forgotten the kind of sounds that are possible with "old" machines: the way a lead stacked against tuned percussion and shrouded in pads can evoke still other sounds, hidden in the mix, or maybe not really there at all. It's a ghostly, suggestive presence, a kind of evocation of infinite possibility within the context of a limited set of inputs. In that sense, Tronic Jazz follows a certain minimalist impulse, but it's far too lush ever to be mistaken for the dread "mnml" of recent years. This stuff is wide-eyed and full of life. When it funks, it funks hard, and when it smoothes out, it can be as intimate as a hand-written note left on a lover's pillow. As "class ic" as Tronic Jazz may be, the album refutes any notion that "class ic" equals "retro," that the ideas have all been expressed before. Tronic Jazz takes the foundations of house and techno as though they were a kind of language, and speaks volumes with them.