Suche:the most

(*Previously unreleased)

Telling a tale of house music’s early days or roots without mentioning Tony Humphries as a club DJ, remixer and radio disc jockey would make it an incomplete, forged and most of all a bit of a yawn.
Born in Brooklyn in 1957, Humphries’ musical journey is synonymous with New York City’s dance music history and the evolution from uptempo soul music to house: from being a dancer at David Mancuso’s infamous Loft parties to becoming a mobile DJ and getting the call from Shep Pettibone to become his right hand at
the then new Kiss FM radio station, followed by countless remix offers and a legendary residency at Newark’s Club Zanzibar. Next to that one, is was especially his work as a radio disc jockey for said station during most of the 1980s until 1994 that gave him majestic clout. Breaking new records week in, week out,
putting New Jersey acts like Adeva and Jomanda or countless up-and-coming producers from there on the musical map, while simultaneously playing the hottest imports from Europe, trax from Chicago, dance classics and all things straight from New York’s music factory that never seemed to stop.
Going to his vast and almost complete archive of radio shows from way back when he graced those airwaves, we at Running Back Records have pickedNew Release Information original recordings that symbolize his importance as an industry giant and ambassador of this style of music.
„But one thing I would like to point out is that, as a DJ, the music I play is not my music. I want to make it perfectly clear that it is music that is released, and it’s everyone’s music. I do not take any other credit than being the middle person exposing this music.“
(Tony Humphries in: What Kind of House Party Is This?, Jonathan Fleming, 1996)

The original album + 6 bonus tracks - limited edition pressing on 180g vinyl
The most talented bossa nova group of the '60s, Tamba Trio perfected a breezy,
swinging version of bossa nova vocal jazz that proved incredibly influential in Brazil
and throughout the world.
Comprising pianist Luiz Eca, bassist Bebeto, and drummer Helcio Milito, the trio not
only played a wide range of instruments but also contributed incredibly close vocal
harmonies. Presented here is their debut album, 'O Barquinho' (Little Boat), which was
a huge hit in Brazil and throughout South and Central America.
One of their later recordings, a rendition Jorge Ben's ' Mas, que nada!' ( But That Is
Nothing!) and included here as a bonus, became their best-known hit, and used most
famously by Nike in a 1998 World Cup television commercial.

Vince Staples is one of the most revered voices of his generation. Though he's a celebrated multi-hyphenate, making an impact in TV, film, & contemporary culture, music is where he most naturally pushes boundaries as an artist, storyteller, & creative force. Following a string of acclaimed introspective projects, Ramona Park (a melancholic tribute to his hometown) & Dark Times (deeper, more personal themes), Cry Baby is a more outwardly facing artistic statement and piece of social commentary.

Editing is a specialist game that is easy to play but difficult to master. King Most is more adept than many, as he shows with a third outing here on his own KM label. This one finds him spreading his wings a little, flying away from r&b and hip-hop and migrating towards more worldly grooves with Afro and Latin undercurrents. 'Tony Trinidad' brings swirling guitar echo and coconut percussion to a crispy slow jam, then 'Hermanos Cub' pumps up the funk with blazing horns and vocals. There's lush polyrhythmic looseness and string melodies to 'Zimbabwe Thorn' and earthy disco charm to 'Bebe Cameroon' with its seductive vocal leads. Cultured cuts.

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

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

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

In Gianfranco Rosi’s portrait of Naples, Sotto le Nuvole, the ground shakes periodically. Between Mount Vesuvius and the Tyrrhenian Sea, the fumaroles of the Phlegraean Fields hiss volcanic gas and steam. Below the sleeping volcano, modern day Naples emerges in black and white and fills with voices, with lives. From the traces of history and the concerns of the present, Rosi documents a city immersed in its continuous past, with Daniel Blumberg’s minimal soundscape hovering in a sonic space between liquid and air.
Tasked with creating a soundscape that would suspend space within Rosi’s film, Blumberg called upon the extended technique of saxophonists Seymour Wright and John Butcher to create a gossamer fabric of traces and sounds abstracted from their instruments. Having transitioned from theoretical physics to the saxophone, John Butcher has always deeply considered space in the context of his playing. His concerns are with flow, density and how the saxophone is situated in the living world. Zeroing in on the core sonic properties of the mechanical and acoustic components of the saxophone, Seymour Wright has integrated its every breath, reed vibration, keypad clatter and hissed microtone of his alto into his own, unique improvisational language. In his work with these two seminal players, Blumberg makes his most concentrated soundtrack to date - reinforcing the film's sense of overlapping time and space, and pushing at the limits of experimentation.

Initially recorded in Daniel’s flat in London, Butcher and Wright centre themselves around long, consistent tones, so soft that it seems breath is being gently pulled from the saxophone's bell by an invisible hand. Blumberg himself adds haunting bass harmonica, and recordings of Wright’s launeddas - a traditional and ancient triple pipe polyphonic reed instrument from Sardinia, Italy. Blumberg then travelled to the volcanic region of Baia, next to Pompeii. Once a flourishing classical Roman city loved by Nero, Baia slowly sank under hydrothermal pressure, leaving the city in a kind of geological purgatory. Using specialised geophones and hydrophones, Blumberg took those initial recordings and amplified them underwater, sending them calling out across the ruins of Baia’s mosaics, Nymphaeum statues and villas.

“It was important to me that the music was whispered in the same landscape that Gianfranco has worked for the past three years, so that you can hear the volcanic air gulping, the lapping of the waves, the steam and bubbles popping against John and Seymour’s saxophone breaths – an echo from a suspended time.”
What emerges is deeply melancholic, tender, subtle and right at the edges of audio technology. Submerged in an aquarian mausoleum, the mysterious vibrations of the saxophone and its bell become an echo of an echo, wading from the future into the past. ‘Sotto le Nuvole’ is less a soundtrack than a process of aeration - a sonic puncture in the material of the film which allows its central message to breathe, and a remarkable experiment at the limits of the saxophone’s possibility.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Phara returns with a second project under his In Glass alias. In 'Scratching the Surface', we're light years away from the heavier, more instructive dance records that have become synonymous with Phara's style. In this EP, the Belgian artist reaffirms his celestial, delicate sound in four tracks that delve further deeper into the emotional soundscape proposed in the first EP.

'Sally' begins the project with the most dance floor oriented of the four tracks, proposing an intoxicating blend of styles that bloom throughout its six minutes. Soft pads and bright keys twinkle along a cradling rhythm as In Glass delivers a truly musical piece that sifts through memories. Percussion is then taken out of the equation as 'All Things (424 Version)' comes and lands softly on the center stage. Lush, ambient waves come lapping at the shore of 'Scratching the Surface', describing nothing but space and serenity - a breath from everything. The dreamy tone of 'All Things' oscillates along reassuringly into the B side, keeping the tempo low and the sound design organic. Here, we step into In Glass's world of dub techno and adjacent sounds that defined his first record last year. 'Plateau' rises slowly from the wax with a round low end and suspended chords that hover high above. Opening stabs over a harmonic bassline make a head massage of a track that sways along. The raw emotion behind In Glass's music is inviting, flashing by as ethereal synths open and close to install a personal, meditative experience of electronic music. The percussion remains discrete, allowing the harmonic information to wash over the listener into the last track of the EP. He concludes with 'My Idle Hands', pressing further into the dub techno sound that echoes through a cathedral of memories. Blurry shapes pass by over a more determined rhythm section, confirming the intimate nature of In Glass's music. The music wanders along, its head in the clouds but with a full heart, telling stories of being lost and finding home.

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

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

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

In the rapidly shifting tectonic plates of the global Afrobeats scene, few arrivals have been as seismic as that of Ahmed Ololade—better known to the world as Asake. With his breakout project Mr. Money With The Vibe, the artist didn’t merely debut; he effectively recalibrated the tempo of the Nigerian pop soundscape. The EP functions as a masterclass in synthesis, pulling from the ornate, percussive history of Fuji music and grafting it onto the driving, bass-heavy architectures of contemporary Amapiano. It is a calculated, deeply rhythmic hybridization that manages to feel both nostalgic and jarringly modern.

From a critical vantage point, Mr. Money With The Vibe is defined by its brevity and density. Asake treats each track as a focused vignette, utilizing a vocal delivery that oscillates between a melodic, almost liturgical chant and the staccato urgency of a Lagos street orator. The production—characterized by sharp, frenetic percussion and deceptively simple melodic loops—creates a high-intensity atmosphere that mirrors the relentless pace of urban life. He avoids the pitfall of bloated experimentation; instead, he doubles down on a "street-pop" ethos, prioritizing accessibility without sacrificing the complex rhythmic interplay that gives the genre its distinctive texture.

Ultimately, Mr. Money With The Vibe stands as a pivotal document of the current era, capturing the transition of Afrobeats from a regional powerhouse to a dominant global force. By blending the aspirational "hustle culture" narrative with an increasingly sophisticated sonic palette, Asake established a blueprint that has since influenced a new wave of artists. The project is a testament to the idea that authenticity, when paired with relentless precision, remains the most effective currency in contemporary music.

Straddling an intriguing intersection of Drum & Bass, Jazz, Fusion and unidentifiable electronica, ‘You Won't Find Your Way From Here’ is the debut album from Jhauk.

An extremely talented multi-instrumentalist from Sheffield, UK, Jhauk came to Blu Mar Ten’s attention when, in 2017, he created a wild prog-rock inflected remix of BMT’s track ‘Titans’
Further conversations with Jhauk revealed the depth of his unorthodox approach to electronic music and unearthed a treasure trove of production skills, culminating in the album before you.

Oscillating between the late-night, moody calm of late 50s Miles Davis, John Coltrane & Bill Evans, the riotous 70s instrumentation of Weather Report, the modern cool stylings of Matthew Halsall and the gritty edges of modern D&B production, it’s scarcely believable that this collection of tracks came from one person working alone in their studio. With tempos and time signatures skittering all over the place, Jhauk uses genres as catalysts rather than containers, he finds the interesting stuff in the hinterlands of their structural relationships and tensions. 

Talking about the album, Jhauk has strong opinions:

“Drum & Bass emerged as club music, and club music comes with its own logic. Specific structures, specific build-ups, a formula that supports that context. 
That's fair enough, but almost 40 years later, why is 99% of D&B still made the exact same way when 99% of the time it's never heard in a club? The same structure, the same formula, barely any development beyond the core idea. Tracks where you can hear 10 seconds of the drop and know almost beat-for-beat how the next 5 minutes sound. No real musical depth or exploration. People regurgitating the same material ad-nauseum but never actually saying anything for themselves. 
This period of composition for me was about taking what I love about D&B, the rhythmic energy and potential for creative freedom it presents and really stretching it to its limits. Of taking drum & bass as a starting point and seeing where it ends up without an idea of what that destination might be. Most people would probably never call a lot of the results D&B, but that's okay because it was never the point.”

 
Dripping with melancholy, euphoria, longing and pure urgency ‘You Won't Find Your Way From Here’ is unlike anything else you’ll hear this year. The sound of an artist entirely unconcerned with impressing peers or performing on ‘socials’; you're hearing a true musician at work, expressing ideas through the skill of his hands, mind and ears. The album’s secrets aren’t revealed with a single play-through, but bears (or even requires) multiple listens to expose its layers.
In previous times, they called this ‘art'.

Repress of 2018’s classic compilation from Brownswood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eliza Rose joins the ‘FABRICLIVE. presents’ series with a release that reflects the breadth of her creative journey in club music culture. A DJ, vocalist and songwriter from London’s vibrant underground, she has become one of the UK’s most compelling voices, equally at home in the DJ booth, on record, and crafting music that resonates across dancefloors and charts alike.

To accompany the release, fabric presents commissioned a bespoke, hand made tapestry depicting Eliza Rose and her friends at Carnival, a celebration of community, heritage and collective joy that runs through her story and the culture she represents. Rich in texture and detail, the piece transforms a living moment into something timeless and craft led. Eliza is pictured alongside the tapestry in an iconic hot pink tracksuit, set within a council estate garden that feels instantly recognisable as a portrait of London life. Surrounded by nostalgic children’s toys, from a rocking unicorn to a plastic slide, the scene captures the everyday intimacy and character of the city’s estates, spaces where music, family and friendship intertwine.

The contrast between the ornate woven artwork and the raw familiarity of the setting creates a striking visual metaphor, bridging past and present, celebration and reality. Together, the imagery reflects the spirit of the release itself: rooted in community, shaped by lived experience and grounded in the environments that continue to inform Eliza’s creative world.

MUSAR is proud to introduce Koloah, the newest voice in the family. Making his label debut with You Can Get Me EP, the Kyiv-born, Berlin-based artist arrives fully formed: three original tracks that move between restless grooves and expansive, immersive sound design, accompanied by a brain-melting remix from rising French star Binary Digit.

The EP opens with "You Can Get Me" - a UK-leaning groove anchored by a snaking acid line and fragmented vocal cuts that surface and dissolve, insistent and hypnotic, one of those tracks that lands fast and stays with you. "Get Me Close" follows, shifting the A-side into electro territory: harder edges, colder mechanics, but the atmosphere holds. Koloah keeps the tension tight and the space wide.
The B-side reaches further. The braindance producer Binary Digit takes "You Can Get Me" apart and rebuilds it in his own image - known for his deeply idiosyncratic approach to rhythm and texture, he turns the original into a real summer anthem, faster and focused, the same raw material carrying a completely different emotional weight
The EP closes with "Liminal Forest", a full IDM statement: intricate rhythmic programming, layered synthesis, and a sense of place that feels earned rather than constructed. Koloah signs off somewhere between the forest and the machine.
Recorded in Koloah's Berlin studio, the tracks were built in different periods - which is exactly why they breathe the way they do. Not a forced coherence, but a natural one.
"Atmosphere is the core of all my music and what I pay the most attention to."
- Koloah
This is the beginning of something. Welcome, Koloah.

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

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

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

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

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

Steve Bug and Pornbugs team up on Behind The Glass / On The Swing with remixes from Mihai Popoviciu and Markus Homm.

Unsung House hero, Steve Bug has been there and done it all. Arguably Germany’s most important pioneer, his label Poker Flat has been an epoch-defining imprint. Celebrating 20 years of Bondage Pornbugs are mixing in different circles with recent releases for Selador and Acker Dub, showcasing their crossover appeal with a new generation of DJs.

Opening with ‘On The Swing’ we are delighted by classic deep vibes with a modern twist. Grooevsome and warm, this will get the floor going anywhere in the world. On remix duties, Mihai Popoviciu drops his trademark style, smoothing out the bumps for a deeper ride.

Next up, ‘Behind The Glass’ takes a similar path. Soulful warmth exudes from the speakers as the bumpy bass and echoing keys mark time. Reaching a crescendo with muted acid undertones in the second half keeps attention high and the dancefloor full and happy. For his remix, Markus Homm takes it deeper with shades of Detroit. Liquid cool for the later floors.