quête:the green line

Wairunga finds the Freddy juggernaut digging deep to debut five songs and revisit two classics captured in an outdoor performance sans audience but with wild weather elements playing an important creative role in producing this unique live album.

Recorded in Wairunga, high above Waimarama Beach in New Zealand, it is place etched into the DNA of Fat Freddy’s Drop who’ve roamed here for over 20 years; to party, relax between tours, make a song Wairunga Blues in its honour and even to get married. Farmed by the Parker family for a century, Wairunga is an oasis of green pasture and native tree filled valleys that fall away to the ocean below.

In inimitable Freddy's fashion the new tunes run a gamut of genre busting styles. Coffee Black is layered with cosmic hot buttered soul and cinematic wigged out psyche-blues while Shady continues Freddy's Afro-Acid adventures with Fitchie’s beat-making tapping into a South African township brand of techno Freddys experienced on tour.

Bush Telegraph is a reggae classic featuring MC Slave aka Mark Williams on the mic with freshly minted yum char spiced rhymes of hope. The other new tracks Leave Your Window Open and Dig Deep are loose rhythmic experiments that the band have been working on for a long time. Versions were developed, rehearsed, but then set aside – dismissed, demonised - only to be revived with new energy in some future moment of creative cohesion. The results are loose-limbed; broken and bruised beats smashing into subterranean bass and twisted up melodies.

Bones and Wairunga Blues are the two classics from Freddy's vast back catalogue. Off the Blackbird album, Bones has aged beautifully - like a fine wine - the song’s component parts matured and melded together in harmony and balance. DJ Fitchie rates this 2021 vintage superior to the 2013 original. Wairunga Blues has been a work-in-progress since it was released on Bays in 2015. Kuki dials up some appropriately off-kilter keys to match the wonky-funk laid down by Fitchie’s bass line and the horns. It’s a mighty comeback – and a fitting tribute to this magical place.

Again Mysteries delivers 3 exellent long dark atmospheric tracks upholding the established label philosophy. Mastered by Pozek. Artwork by Darkam.
The tribal triumvirate of C. Ysme, Kbyl and Yukai supply fuel for the nomadic war machine. Relentlessly driving, pushing forward at 150 bpm, only stopping for the next gathering in pirate utopia. A maelstrom swirling, drawing you in to the centre of the dance.
Darkness merchants and veterans Too Old Boyz team up with Kaoslog and descend into the catacombs to deal with the fear factor. In the blackness a synth melody shines like a greenish light. Amply named Adrenaline this track urges to keep on moving and confront the monsters. 150 bpm, epic and hard as nails.
After Mysteries #6, #10 and VC 27 Keflat 23 is back and ups the pace going 170 beats full on pumping tribalistic yet subtle in line with the spirit of Mysteries, carefully laying out a mental map of realms and conzepts unknown. Immer geradeaus but when you see the rabbit ask it for directions.
This release includes a 2 side poster, digital download code and artwork sticker.

15th Anniversary Edition. Lime Green Vinyl. When Dinosaur Jr. reunited, more than 20 years after their formation and legendary dissolution, the worry was that these guys were just flogging the back catalog, taking the old show on the road as a marketing gimmick. But the 2007 release of Beyond gave a hearty Marshall-driven "F**K YOU!" answer to those inquiring ears. Restoring the sound established by the unassailable hat-trick gambit of their first three albums -- Dinosaur, You're Living All Over Me, and Bug -- Beyond continued the band's march into rock greatness by making old ears smile and new ears bleed afresh. And then came Farm, the 9th full length record by the original line-up: J Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Murph. If Beyond was Dinosaur Jr.'s return to form, Farm is proof that Dinosaur Jr. could (and still do, to this day!) deliver timeless, exhilarating rock music. Farm encompasses Dinosaur Jr.'s signature palette: soaring and distorted guitar, unshakable hooks, honey-rich melodies. At times wholly 70's guitar-epic, at times perfect for sitting by a babbling brook with Joni and Neil, these songs get into your head and stay there, bouncing happily around. The ear-catching "Plans" is nearly seven minutes of classic whipped-topping rock dessert, while "I Don't Wanna Go There" is a meat-and-potatoes main dish, mixing unapologetic lead guitar with straight-ahead delivery a la James Gang or Humble Pie. This expanded deluxe edition of Farm features four songs never pressed to vinyl and never given worldwide release:"Houses", "Whenever You're Ready" (The Zombies Cover), "Creepies" (Instrumental), and "Show". "Whenever You're Ready", a cover of classic pop-rockers The Zombies, is impossibly good for a hidden gem; Murph stomps in with a sledgehammer to the kit, J and Lou layer low-end and fuzz like two halves of one brain, and right when things feel biggest, airy and colossal, there's J with a lightning bolt of a guitar solo. Pure electricity and melody like only he can make. Recorded in J Mascis' Bisquiteen studio in Amherst, Massachusetts, Farm was produced by Mascis himself, and delivers the singular, unique energy of one of America's greatest living rock bands.

"Something Soft", das zweite Album der irischen Post-Punk-Brandstifter M(h)aol, ist alles andere als soft. Von der ersten Note des Eröffnungsstücks von "Something Soft" bis zu den verzerrten Schreien des letzten Stücks fühlt sich die Platte antagonistisch gegenüber dem Konzept der Sanftheit an, klanglich und thematisch. Es ist eine unapologetische Annäherung an intersektionellen Feminismus, Tierschutz, Konsum und den Kampf um einen Platz in einer Welt, der es an Empathie mangelt. Was M(h)aol bietet, ist Katharsis in zwei Formen: die Art, die man bekommt, wenn man anderen gegenüber offen ist, und die Art, die man bekommt, wenn man mit Recht etwas kaputt macht. Wut und Empathie effektiv zu kanalisieren ist ein Akt der Widerstandsfähigkeit, und um "Something Soft" zu machen, mussten M(h)aol besonders widerstandsfähig werden. Nach ihrem gefeierten Debüt "Attachment Styles" änderte sich das Line-up von M(h)aol und bestand nun aus dem Kerntrio Constance Keane (Schlagzeug/Gesang, sie/ihr), Jamie Hyland (Bass/Gesang, sie/ihr) und Sean Nolan (Gitarre, er/ihm). Dieser Prozess veränderte die Herangehensweise der Band an das Songwriting und die Auftritte und führte zu einem unerwarteten Durchbruch. "Something Soft" zeichnet sich durch einen dringlicheren Sound aus, der sich eng um den Rhythmus von Hyland und Keane legt. In Songs wie "Pursuit" und "Snare" verbindet sich Keanes Gesang mit dem Schlagzeug, als würden ihre Worte durch ihr Spiel zum Leben erweckt und direkt aus ihrem Körper kommen. Vor dem Hintergrund dieser ängstlichen und schwadronierenden Tracks nimmt ihre Stimme den Raum eines inneren Monologs ein, in dem sie von einem angespannten Heimweg und von der Misogynie im Green Room aus einer Position der drolligen Beobachtung heraus erzählt - eine universelle Erfahrung, die in spezifischen Details wiedergegeben wird. Wie seine Vorgänger "Attachment Styles" und die "Gender Studies" EP wurde auch "Something Soft" von Jamie Hyland aufgenommen. Es ist die technisch ausgefeilteste der bisherigen M(h)aol-Aufnahmen, denn die Band, zu der auch Sarah Deegan vom Pixie Cut Rhythm Orchestra am Bass gehört, zog in das Dubliner Ailfionn Studio, wo sie die räumlichen Gegebenheiten und das Studio-Equipment nutzten, um ihrem Sound mehr Nuancen zu verleihen. Die zusätzlichen Sessions und das Können hinter den Reglern waren ein Segen, aber für eine Band, die es gewohnt ist, unter extremem Zeitdruck zu arbeiten, war dies eine unerwartete Herausforderung: Konnten M(h)aol das Gefühl der Unmittelbarkeit beibehalten, das ihre Musik bis zu diesem Zeitpunkt geprägt hatte? Songs wie "DM:AM" zerstreuten diese Sorge schnell, indem sie innerhalb von 20 Minuten aus einem Drone entstanden, den Nolan spielte, während Hyland ihr Aufnahme-Equipment aufbaute und sich beeilte, den Song einzufangen, sobald Keane und Deegan dazukamen. Eine der geisterhaften Hymnen von "Something Soft", "1800-Call-Me-Back", begann als Scherz, dass die Band einen Fußballgesang schreiben sollte, wurde aber weitaus komplexer - die köstliche Balance aus Chaos und Klarheit, die sie gefunden haben, wäre ohne Zeit unmöglich gewesen. "I Miss My Dog" ist weniger spontan, aber seine Meditation über Trauer baut sich in einem halsbrecherischen Tempo auf, von Rückkopplungen über Keanes Schlagzeugspiel und Gesang bis hin zu einem spektakulären Schluss, der die Trauer in Bass und Gitarre erstickt, eine der größten technischen Leistungen von M(h)aol bis heute. Der Feinschliff unterstreicht den schelmischen Charme von M(h)aol und lässt das Intime hymnisch wirken, indem persönliche Erfahrungen genutzt werden, um die allgemeinen Systeme, unter denen wir leben, zu beschreiben. Für diejenigen, die sich in den Songs von M(h)aol wiedererkennen, ist das Hören von "Something Soft" wie ein Sprung in einen lang laufenden Chat-Thread, voller Wut und Humor.

Teal’s debut LP, Original Watercolour, is an album that feels like a canvas come to life. A sonic blend of street-soul, digi-dub, and downtempo. Original Watercolour explores the complexities of love, oneness, and intuition — themes that resonate deeply within the context of the history women have shared with what was once known as the “ladies’ medium.”

The bi-coastal family trio—Ashleigh and Melissa Ball, better known as the Ball Sisters, alongside producer N1_SOUND—bring a fresh, genre-defying sound to the table with their latest 6-track album. Running just under 30 minutes, this immersive collection weaves together skipping beats, addictive bass lines, three-dimensional flute textures & emotional vocal melodies. This musical portrait is as ethereal as it is powerful, inviting the listener to get lost in its depths while celebrating the beauty of self-expression.

The opening track, “Original Watercolour,” takes you on a psychedelic trip-hop journey. From the first reverberous snare hit, you’re whisked away to a sonic wetland — lush and euphoric. The soft yet poignant soundscapes set the tone for the album, inviting us into a world where the boundaries between earth and music, reality and imagination, automatically seem to blur.

“Locked In 2 Love” offers a boogie-fueled bassline that pushes Teal into dance-floor territory with soaring flutes and rhythmic intricacies that make it impossible not to move — it’s a track that exemplifies the magic of Teal’s ability to craft both intimate and expansive musical landscapes. And then, there’s the hypnotic flow of “One In The Same,” where stacked vocal harmonies and mantra-esque lyrics transport you to a place that could easily be mistaken for a lost Soulquarians demo. It’s gentle yet unrelenting in its depth.

The second side of the album opens with “Sleep on It,” a track that immediately grabs attention with its dancehall-driven rhythm. Ashleigh Ball's vocals set the stage for a song that’s both introspective and emotionally charged, yet unmistakably rooted in groove. The phased-out bassline creates an almost hypnotic atmosphere. Pulling the listener into a mood of contemplation—matching the restless, sleepless night that Ball describes. As the song progresses, this groove builds in intensity, culminating in an explosive ending that mirrors the emotional release of a long-held frustration.

Original Watercolour is more than just an album — it’s a meditation on the interconnectedness of life and art. “Frog Kingdom,” the longest and only instrumental track creates a contemplative space that builds upon the themes introduced earlier. It feels like a sequel to their earlier work, Frog Legacy from their debut Bluish Green 2024 12”, expanding on the familiar sound with even more complex layers.

Yet the real emotional power of the record lies in its closing track, “Can’t Shake the Feeling.” Simple in structure but profound in impact, this song captures a deep yearning and understanding — that everything, from the ecosystems we inhabit to the relationships we nurture and the art we create, is fundamentally interconnected. As the track crescendos in a falsetto peak, it becomes clear that the album is a reflection of both the world around us and the personal journey each member of the band has embarked upon to get to this point.

Just as the medium of watercolor has been traditionally linked to women artists, Teal carries this legacy into the modern musical landscape, blending the richness of history with a unique forward-thinking perspective. The album feels like both a celebration of the past and a bold declaration of a path forward — one that welcomes anyone ready to join in and shape the future of the art form.

The beauty of Teal’s work is that it feels familiar, while simultaneously offering something new and refreshing. Original Watercolour doesn’t just push musical boundaries; it redefines them, offering a lush and textured soundtrack for those willing to listen closely.

In a world that often feels over-saturated, Original Watercolour stands as a reminder of the power of simplicity, intuition, and connection. Teal’s debut album invites you to experience something both deeply personal and universally understood. The landscapes they create are vivid, yet soft, grounding yet expansive. With each track, Teal’s music reflects the interconnectedness of all things — a truly unique piece of work in the world of experimental soul and dub adjacent electronic music.

Rising and falling. We all live in the same pond. Peace to all.

In the madrigal-strewn world of neo folk-psychedelia, the queen of drones holds court…In this late teen decade, as green men are burnt, resources dwindle and naturalists plunder for authentic Englishness, the hunt for the grail-like Silver Globe continues. Back in 2014, the story was first whispered; A mythical jaunt set to a motorik rhythm, played out in an overgrown forest of ideas: Jane Weaver’s ‘The Silver Globe’ was a conceptual delicacy – “a synth-ridden post-apocalyptic prog-pop opus based on tightly embroidered, non-linear recurring themes inspired by esoteric stories, cosmic imagery and re-filtered past experiences”. Since those heady beginnings, our heroine has time travelled to darker times and been celebrated for her glorious ‘Modern Kosmology’ (top album of 2017, here, there, everywhere).
“A full-scale leap into the cosmic void of contemporary space rock” The Quietus

“As a child of the 1970’s I can thank my friends’ brothers for their space rock record collections and concept album sleeves that I would spend hours looking at, then my first love for Kate Bush followed by a heavy dose of disco and synth pop. I guess ‘The Silver Globe’ is just a subconscious inspired imprint of those things that have never left me, married with an accidental viewing of a vintage Polish sci-fi film that was so bizarre I couldn’t stop thinking about it and so it became my muse...” Jane Weaver. Set the controls…

'Atmospheric death metal'. Three simple words to describe one's music, chosen by JADE mainman J. himself, although they don't seem to quite pay justice to the gigantic scope of their music. Because ever since the release of their debut demo back in 2018 they've proven again and again to be more. Much more. Historically speaking, the word 'jade' referred to a rare but valuable mineral in ancient times all over the world. From Mesoamerican cultures to Chinese and Southern Asian ones, the greenstone was conferred with deep spiritual symbolism and used to connect the earthly level to the unknown. The history of countless traditions, legends and cults remain as an endless source of topics in terms of lyrics for the band, with a rich historical narrative also poetized. JADE's music is described by J. as "a tribute to the timeless obscure metal language, from early death/doom manifestations to later atmospheric black acts, in a really heavy, intense and epic form which transcends ages, as the greenstone cult has endured." The sophomore album, and second full-length after last year split LP with SANCTUARIUM, Mysteries Of A Flowery Dream carries an ominous wave of darkness, redefining heaviness with new levels of musical production and arrangements, compared by J. to "a journey into the dialogue between conscious and subconscious dreaming states and the mysteries around." The album's lyrics are in direct line of those themes, echoing the celestial world and how it can help us overcoming ominous times ("The Stars' Shelter"), how dreams can be interpreted as omens ("Light's Blood") and how they allow us to travel the Mayan cosmovision and its various worlds for guidance, healing and messages ("Shores Of Otherness"), among others. You can even find on the cover artwork elements of the ancient Mesoamerican cosmovision, mainly the powerful moon goddess Ixchel, a creative yet destructive entity, portrayed here as the Spider and threading human fate like an umbilical cord, determined to give life but also to destroy it if needed. A frightening, fragile yet utterly fascinating balance perfectly illustrated by Mysteries Of A Flowery Dream.

Low Fuzz is proudly debuting with Avoiding Traps LOWFUZZ001, an album by Georgian musical auteur Rezo Glonti. Created using only Max/MSP and the Soviet-era LOMO MKE-100 microphone, this work marks a departure from Glonti’s traditional approach to sound. Filled with subtle yet unconventional ambient shifts , each track weaves tranquil textures, flavored with vocoder and vocal-driven sounds.
LOW FUZZ is an independent record label, musical platform and event series est. 2022 in Georgia, Tbilisi curated by ESI (Irakli Shonia).
LOW FUZZ is closely affiliated with Mutant Radio and Left Bank in Tbilisi.
The concept started as a collaborative show with Mutant Radio, and it's grown with Left Bank to host regular event series in the club setting. With the proper sound system to showdown and the ability to extend the playtime, LOW FUZZ lines up all sorts of genres and styles to host locals and artists around the globe from time to time

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Legendary postmodern, post punk, post human, past caring collective Mekons return with a brand-new album for 2025. Their first release on Fire Records, ‘Horror’ a collection of songs written in late 2022 but providing a horribly prescient reflection of the world in its current miasma and how we got here. ‘Horror’ looks at history and the legacies of British imperialism with mashed up lyrics set against a typically eclectic sound that amalgamates everything from dub, country, noise, rock & roll, electronica, punk, music hall, polka and you can even take your partner for a nice waltz on ‘Sad And Sad And Sad’. The roots of their global sound reflect their nomadic journey through time and space from Leeds to California in the West and Siberia in the East and is woven into the fabric and intricacies of their song creation… Sounding like The Chills and R.E.M circa the I.R.S Records years, ‘Mudcrawlers’ sees just about the whole band joining Jon Langford on vocals speaking of Irish famine and refugees journeying to Wales. ‘War Economy’ shivers in the cold of such Boroughs spiked one-liners: “Clinical coercion will not achieve dominance!” Sounding like its straight off a Jenny Holzer neon sign (she of Abuse Of Power Comes As No Surprise), it’s held together by a disgruntled swaggering riff that underpins an explosion of disquiet. Meanwhile, Rico takes the lead on the maliciously luscious ‘Fallen Leaves’ an appalled and appalling Hammer Horror take on climate breakdown reminiscent of Rolling Thunder Dylan, that recalls The Pogues at their most introspective, its Celtic twilightism augmented by Susie Honeyman’s keening violin as the dying sun sinks down and the river Styx flows on in the pitch black night. Almost 50 years in the making, these Mekons continue to astound, their sound, sentiment and method of delivery blended to perfection by bass player and studio wizard, Dave Trumfio. The Mekons are Jon Langford, Sally Timms, Tom Greenhalgh, Dave Trumfio, Susie Honeyman, Rico Bell, Steve Goulding, and Lu Edmonds. "Effortlessly eloquent post-punks" Pitchfork // “The Mekons are still vital” Rolling Stone // “The most revolutionary group in the history of rock ‘n’ roll,” Lester Bangs // UK Tour 8-15 May 2025 (including London, Manchester, Glasgow, and more).

After a 30-year interstellar silence, the enigmatic producer Alien Signal—pioneering alias of Italian electronic composer Alex Silvi—reemerges with Whispers from Distant Suns, a transcendent odyssey that bridges retro-futurism and modern electronica. Hailed as a magnum opus, this album transcends genre boundaries, captivating ambient purists, downtempo aficionados, and even experimental listeners with its hypnotic fusion of analog warmth and digital precision.

Cosmic Tapestry of Sound
Drawing comparisons to Vangelis’ Antarctica and Alpha—but reimagined through a 21stcentury lens—Whispers from Distant Suns marries nostalgic synth textures with cuttingedge production. Silvi’s mastery of melody shines through in tracks like “Stardust
Memories” and “Fragile Eden” where shimmering arpeggios and celestial pads drift over robotic, glitch-infused drum patterns and sparse, meditative percussion. The result is a paradox: a retro-futuristic soundscape that feels simultaneously ancient and alien, familiar yet unexplored.

Listener Testimonials
Fans and critics have flooded forums with praise:

“An auditory revelation! It’s like Vangelis met Jon Hopkins in a nebula—vintage soul with a futuristic heartbeat.”
“The textures are gorgeously cinematic. Closing your eyes, you’re adrift in a Tarkovsky film scored for the Andromeda galaxy.”

The Vinyl Experience
Pressed on heavyweight vinyl, the album’s physical release amplifies its immersive qualities. The gatefold sleeve, adorned with surrealist astrophotography and metallic
foiling, mirrors the music’s cosmic ethos. Side A leans into Balearic serenity, with sundappled grooves and aquatic synth ripples, while Side B delves into darker, more
experimental terrain—think Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works colliding with the organic rhythms of Jon Hopkins.

Maturity in Motion
This album is a testament to Silvi’s evolution. Tracks like “Seeds Of Light” and “Message from Andromeda Galaxy” showcase his refined ear for dynamics, balancing silence and sound with surgical precision. Vintage drum machines spar with glitches, while field recordings of crashing waves and interstellar static blur the line between Earth and cosmos. The closing track, “The Star Charts We Shared” crescendos into a 6-minute ambient requiem, leaving listeners suspended in a state of weightless awe.

Final Transmission
Whispers from Distant Suns is more than an album—it’s a transcendent odyssey. Spanning time, space, and the artist’s own creative evolution, this immersive work invites listeners to lose themselves in its ebb and flow. Designed for moments both intimate and expansive, its balearic-tinged atmospheres resonate equally through dawnlit Mediterranean terraces or the solitary glow of headphones in darkness. These are compositions that pulse, morph, and haunt the air long after the final note fades. A living soundscape meant to accompany life’s quiet revelations and clandestine joys—a soundtrack to your most personal moments, crafted as what the artist calls ‘private dance music.’

Tailored for the Discerning Listener
Whispers from Distant Suns is designed with the true connoisseur in mind. This album is a must-have for:

Vinyl Collectors & Audiophiles: Those who value the warmth and tactile experience of heavyweight, limited edition pressings
Electronic Ambient and Downtempo Fans: Listeners who appreciate immersive soundscapes that merge retro analog charm with modern digital innovation.
Retro-Futurism Enthusiasts: Fans of pioneering artists like Vangelis, Boards of Canada, and early Warp Records who seek music that bridges nostalgic synth textures with futuristic experimentation.
Experimental Music Explorers: Individuals drawn to sonic narratives that invite deep, contemplative listening—perfect for both introspective moments and immersive listening sessions.
This release is not just an album; it’s a curated experience for those who desire music as a multidimensional art form, merging the vintage allure of analog sound with a contemporary, cosmic vision.

For fans of: Vangelis, Biosphere, Jon Hopkins, early Warp Records.

- Also available on black vinyl - First ever official reissue - Produced in full cooperation with Hiroshi Yoshimura's estate - Liner notes by contemporary music writer and professor Junichi Konuma - Remastered from original sources by John Baldwin - First time on vinyl, cassette, and streaming - 2xLP vinyl housed in gatefold jacket - Discs cut at 45 rpm for optimal sound quality // Following their 2024 reissue of Hiroshi Yoshimura's classic album, Surround, Temporal Drift proudly presents the first-ever reissue of FLORA, Yoshimura's underappreciated ambient classic. FLORA was originally recorded and completed in 1987, and remained unreleased until 2006, nearly three years after Yoshimura's passing in 2003. The album is chronologically and stylistically a follow-up to his acclaimed 1986 works GREEN and SURROUND, wherein Yoshimura continues to play with the ambience of sound and the sound of ambience, underscoring his mastery in the field of environmental music. Yoshimura's other recorded works include Music For Nine Post Cards (1982), originally produced to be played back inside a museum space, and Pier & Loft (1983), commissioned as accompaniment to a contemporary fashion show.

A once shocking 1962 LP of love songs…by men, for men. A long lost treasure featuring the cool & sophisticated vocals of Gene Howard and a cast of prime studio jazz musicians, performing a set of standards sung to a male suitor. Ahead of its time in every way. Decades ago, JD Doyle, renowned LGBT music historian and archivist, happened upon a copy of Love Is A Drag. Doyle would often play cuts from it on his radio show, Queer Music Heritage. He remained intrigued by the lack of either artist or producer credited on the album. A vague line of jacket text ambiguously announced, “For Adult Listeners Only - Sultry Stylings by a Most Unusual Vocalist.” And, the facts behind the album would have most likely remained unclear if it were not for one Murray Garrett Out of the blue, Murray Garrett contacted JD Doyle and wanted to talk about the album. According to Garrett, through his photography career, he had forged a friendship and partnership with prolific big band vocalist, Gene Howard. The two worked together on projects, eventually teaming with Jack Ames, founder of Edison International Records. When queried for ideas for a potential Edison International release, Garrett recalled a performance he had once seen in Greenwich Village - a performance of a man singing love songs to another man, in serious fashion, i.e., not at all campy or overly-dramatic. Gene Howard (straight and happily married!) agreed to sing on the record, accompanied by a who’s-who of Los Angeles A-list session men. Upon release, the record sold well in Hollywood, with Frank Sinatra, Liberace, and Bob Hope among its biggest advocates.

- LITA Exclusive pressed on Sky Blue colored vinyl - First ever official reissue - Produced in full cooperation with Hiroshi Yoshimura's estate - Liner notes by contemporary music writer and professor Junichi Konuma - Remastered from original sources by John Baldwin - First time on vinyl, cassette, and streaming - 2xLP vinyl housed in gatefold jacket - Discs cut at 45 rpm for optimal sound quality // Following their 2024 reissue of Hiroshi Yoshimura's classic album, Surround, Temporal Drift proudly presents the first-ever reissue of FLORA, Yoshimura's underappreciated ambient classic. FLORA was originally recorded and completed in 1987, and remained unreleased until 2006, nearly three years after Yoshimura's passing in 2003. The album is chronologically and stylistically a follow-up to his acclaimed 1986 works GREEN and SURROUND, wherein Yoshimura continues to play with the ambience of sound and the sound of ambience, underscoring his mastery in the field of environmental music. Yoshimura's other recorded works include Music For Nine Post Cards (1982), originally produced to be played back inside a museum space, and Pier & Loft (1983), commissioned as accompaniment to a contemporary fashion show.

first pressing sold out on pre-order - here's a repress for late March 2025 on green vinyl - new barcode, new SKU.

After a first This album cover is quite mysterious, isn't it? Let's uncover what's behind it. The first notes of the opening track immediately set the tone: the journey begins. Take the album title literally and allow yourself to be comforted by the tenderness the British band is about to offer.

Dream pop is a genre of its own, characterized by a warm sound, enveloping bass lines, dreamy synths, and beautiful vocals. With "No Rush," Tokyo Tea Room guides the listener through an exploration of their emotions and an escape from everyday life.

Each of the 13 tracks on this project exudes the same tender energy, yet stands out with creative and meticulously crafted compositions. This project is poised to become a staple of the genre.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Of all the artists who recorded for the Black Jazz label, keyboardist and composer Doug Carn was the most prolific, releasing four albums for the imprint. 1972’s Spirit of the New Land was his second Black Jazz release, but the first one (of two) to co-feature his wife, vocalist Jean Carn. It’s the most collectible of the bunch, showcasing Carn’s innovative approach of adding lyrics to jazz standards like Miles Davis’ “Blue in Green” and Lee Morgan’s “Search for the New Land,” while originals like “Arise and Shine” and “My Spirit” soar with spiritual fervor on the wings of his wife’s five-octave range.

Along for the ride are a stellar cast of players, including trumpeter Charles Tolliver, co-founder of the Strata-East label; saxophonist George Harper, who played with Herbie Hancock and Jimmy Smith among others; trombonist Garnett Brown, who appears on albums by Roland Kirk, Albert Ayler, and Art Blakey among his hundreds of album credits; tuba player Earl McIntyre, whose discography spans from Carla Bley to the Band; and drummer Alphonse Mouzon, founding member of Weather Report. This beautiful, uplifting album also comes with liner notes by Pat Thomas, author of Listen, Whitey! The Sights and Sounds of Black Power 1965-1975, that feature excerpts from a freewheeling interview conducted with Doug Carn himself. Pressed in blue with black swirl vinyl limited to 750 copies!

WHO IS ULTAN O’BRIEN? Ultan O’Brien is a fiddle player and composer from the wilds of County Clare in the West of Ireland. Ultan is a performer as well as a regular at sessions all of Ireland and can be found by chance in any pub in Dublin, Cork or some remote village on the edge of nowhere, flying jigs and reels around the room. Ultan was reared in the rich tradition of Irish music which is so commonly found and heard in Co Clare, but he also delves deep into sound art and experimental music. He has often been heard in the back of a car after a few pints quoting lines from Alvin Lucier or speaking at length about improvisation and its place in modern Irish music. Ultan O’Brien is a fresh and vital player who has much to offer with his unique approach and technique to a tradition so old and ever ready for a subtle change every 100 years or so. Ultan has played and recorded with people and bands such as Skipper’s Alley, Eoghan Ó Ceannabháin, John Francis Flynn, Slow Moving Clouds, Cuar, Laura Jurd, Martin Green, Natalia Beylis, Paul Roe and Nic Gareiss. ‘in its Ultan’s fiddle playing sincerity of tone it reminds me somewhat of those great caoineadh which were played with such elusive grandeur by Denis Murphy and Pádraig O’Keefe’ Adrian Scahill ‘lets the heart brighten and the feet tap’ Richard Hollingum -KlofMag


ABOUT THIS WONDERFUL ALBUM: ‘This album, Dancing the Line, is my first solo album of music played on an alternatively-tune alto fiddle. I found that the resonance and growl of this lower tuned instrument sat me perfectly into the sound-world I wanted to be in, giving vibrancy to my own compositions and nestling into the traditional music I grew up with.’

The late, great Calvin Keys’1971 debut album for the Black Jazz Records label announced the arrival of a new star in the jazz guitar firmament. Keys had spent the ‘60s backing up the crème de la crème of jazz organists—Jimmy Smith, Jimmy McGriff, Jack McDuff, Richard “Groove” Holmes—but for his first record as a leader, he was eager to play with a piano player instead. So he recruited one of the best—Larry Nash, who, besides being a member of the L.A. Express, played with everybody from Eddie Harris to Bill Withers to Etta James. Bassist Lawrence Evans, drummer Bob Braye, and flautist-songwriter Owen Marshall rounded out the group on Shawn-Neeq, which might remind some of Pat Metheny’s early work (Metheny acknowledges Keys as an influence), or Grant Green.

But what gives Shawn-Neeq extra depth is that it comes from the heart; as Keys says in Pat Thomas’ liner notes, which feature an interview with the artist: “My thing was, I write about some of the experiences that I’ve had in my life.” Keys became a fixture in the Bay Area jazz scene before he passed in April 2024; this is the album that started his journey. Another gem from the celebrated Black Jazz catalog, pressed in blue with black swirl vinyl limited to 750 copies!