quête:the narrator

In literature an unreliable narrator is a narrator that can't be fully trusted, a
character whose credibility for some reason or another has been
compromised
When I chose to use the expression as the title for my new album, I did so
because I felt it resonated with me on a number of different levels.First of all, it
serves as an accurate way of describing my own lyrical universe, which has
always been a mash- up of real- life events and fiction. No one can tell for sure
what is real and what is made up. At times, even I find there can be a fluid
transition between the two poetic worlds. When I look back on my work, it is often
hard to tell where reality and fiction overlap.
Another factor that undoubtably and unavoidably bled into my writing this time,
was that I finished most of the new lyrics in the weeks and days leading up to the
2020 US Presidential election.
More than any time before, we witnessed a toxic political campaign that
consciously sought to mislead people. And any attempt at raising critical
questions and points of view were brutally brushed off and dismissed as fake
news. Several political narratives played out at the same time, all claiming they
exclusively owned THE TRUTH. A game of smoke and mirrors that for a lot of
people made it hard to decide who to believe. Who was the truthful and who was
the unreliable narrator of the political game?

Incl. Remixes by Red Axes, Roman Flügel & Abe Duque

What does it mean to exist in sound?

It does not begin with a beat, but with a choice. With the moment when someone decides not merely to inhabit the space, but to shape it – and in doing so, makes themselves visible.

Roman Flügel stands as a constant in the background. Not as an authority, but as a collective consciousness. Since the 1990s, he has moved through club music like a seeker, never content with the first answer. House, techno, experimentation – these are not genres, but states of being. His remix thinks, hesitates, opens, strikes like a surging acid wave, warping reality and demanding true presence.

New York taught him that club music is never neutral. It is body, friction, attitude. Abe Duque’s remix carries a strangely enchanting relentlessness, a resistance to smoothness – as if the dancefloor were a place where freedom is not claimed, but fought for.

Red Axes do not enter this space; they conjure it. Their sound is raw, repetitive, circular, as if deliberately refusing linearity. House, dub, and acid elements become material for a movement that is more trance than structure. Their remix does not ask where it is going; it asks why one should ever stand still.

And then there is Tim Paris. Not at the center, but as a narrator. As someone who knows that the voice is an attitude. “That Boy” is not a pose, but a mirror, ironic, direct, vulnerable. Paris moves between new wave house and club, always aware that identity is never fixed, but formed in the moment.

This remix record is not a gathering of names. It is a situation, four perspectives on the same question:

What does it mean to exist in sound?

Yet sound alone does not tell the full story: like music, the visual is a space to be shaped, felt, and deciphered. The cover of Tim Paris feat. Foremost Poets – That Boy, created by Konstantin Fürchtegott Kipfmüller, a visual artist at the Hochschule für Gestaltung in Offenbach under Heiner Blum, embodies this principle. Drawing inspiration from the urban environment, Kipfmüller transforms traces of decay, weather, and time into abstract narratives that, like the music of Tim Paris, Roman Flügel, Abe Duque and Red Axes, unfold meaning layer by layer. The result is no mere adornment, but a mirror of the sonic landscape: every line, every surface an echo of the question of what it means to exist – fully, in the moment, in sound.

2025 Repress
Gregory Porter’s “1960 What?” continues to be one of Expansion’s most sought after releases and comes now in new enhanced packaging. It combines the original with the Opolopo Kick & Bass re-Rub

Gregory Porter as narrator, sounding like Amiri Baraka, declares on “1960 What?” that “the motor city is burning y’all—that ain’t right” and refers to Martin Luther King Jr.’s death and describes trigger-happy policing (supported by a trumpet that blares, jabs, rumbles, and yearns); and the song portrays how certain events turn people against the possibilities of life and light. A vision that only recognizes strength and cruelty and rage is dangerously imperfect: rather, creativity, education, intelligence, sensitivity, democratic political participation, and compassionate social work are goals and virtues that can be affirmed, if not actively pursued, in all times.

For the first time on vinyl a collection of tracks by Cortex, Alain Neffe (Bene Gesserit,Insane Music) experimental spoken-word project originally released on tape in 1984.

Cortex was never intended to be a conventional musical project.
From the very beginning it was centered around free live performances. These encounters were stripped down and highly visual: Alain Neffe constructed a trapezoidal fluorescent white screen lit by black light.

The narrator—la récitante—was only illuminated in the face, while the rest of the stage remained in complete darkness.
This created a ghostly effect where the audience could see only her glowing face and dark silhouette. She was a beautiful young woman, with a striking presence, and beside her, Alain Neffe played synthesizer and created sonic effects.
The aim of Cortex was to deliver a minimalist and emotional experience, one centered on text and the voice of the narrator.

Most of the tracks that exist today were recorded informally during rehearsals, using two microphones placed in front of Marshall amps, captured directly to cassette.
La récitante could choose a text from a collection of hundreds. Then, the music was improvised in real time around her voice. That process, simple, direct, and instinctive produced a body of work that’s rough around the edges, but full of presence. It’s not polished, but that’s the point.

Cortex was focused entirely on the connection between voice and sound.

Limited to 300 copies

Dense, deep, drifting in the universe between dream, memory and reality.
Thought-provoking impulses with a philosophical background add an empathetic component to the power of the narrators' words in a charismatic way.
The common thread running through the four tracks like a warm red ribbon is a homage to the freedom of the individual.
A utopian sound clip that tells of acceptance and departure.

Theme Ltd presents two new releases from resident artist GAIKA
, also featuring THE NARRATOR and Liu. The two tracks circle between various influences and bear a bright flash of versatility from the artist and his collaborators. ‘Racing Gloves’ is underscored by THE NARRATOR’s melodious, delicately discordant passages. It’s then supplemented by GAIKA’s visceral, close-to-home rap style and calculated production. This textural balance, the two voices in tandem, makes for a perfect synchronicity. Not sure which voice to listen to? Pick up the gloves and go for a drive.

’S Composites’ featuring Liu, guides the listener between the gentle throes of multilingualism. It’s a unique mix of ethereal melodies supported by a classic RnB beat, enriched by a soft, swelling droning that seems to mimic breathing. As the track inflates and deflates, we’re carried by Liu’s honeyed vocals to her countdown, and the track’s final minute-long ‘breath’.

DJ support: Tim Sweeney, Make A Dance, Parris, Pleasure Voyage, Camillo Miranda

Back yard - Back yard is the first single from the new Teen Daze album, Elegant rhythms, and features singer-songwriter Andy Shauf on drums, and LA jazz staple, Sam Wilkes, on bass. This is a stark change in sound for Teen Daze, who’s last album Interior was an exploration of neon-lit House music. Back yard is a mellow groover, conjuring up images of Laurel Canyon in the 70s, yet still with its flourishes of contemporary sounds.

We’re out of phase again - We’re out of phase again is another vulnerable glimpse into the inner world of Teen Daze, and marks the release of his most personal album to date, Elegant rhythms. In contrast to the synthesized, digital world of his prior album, Interior, here we’ve been brought into a lush, organic arrangement, brought to you in large part to the stunning bass playing by Sam Wilkes. While the verses pulse forward, the chorus slows things down, and evokes the sophisti-pop sounds of The Blue Nile. This track is a stunning showcase of the world of Elegant rhythms.

Nothing’s gonna change my love - Teen Daze returns with his second single of the year, Nothing’s gonna change my love. The stark change in sound, as heard on previous single Back yard, is on display here again: a smouldering, 2 and a half minutes of slow jazz-pop, indebted to the great Sade, or perhaps the feeling of leaving downtown LA at 2 AM. Lyrically, we hear a story of a love, challenged by the unpredictable nature of our lives. This may be Teen Daze’s smoothest song to date.

Neighbourhood - Neighbourhood is the third single from the recently announced LP from Teen Daze, Elegant Rhythms. Along with Andy Shauf on the drums, and Sam Wilkes on the bass, Teen Daze gives us a languid tour of his quiet neighbourhood. The sun has set on the pleasant, tree-lined streets, and a stranger, more surreal environment presents itself. The song plods forward at an extremely comfortable pace, held down by the paradoxically loose-yet-tight rhythm section. Lyrically, we walk around the Neighbourhood at night, and while the chorus reveals a type of sobriety, the vibe of the song makes it easy to feel a little…effected.

Fade away - Fade away sets the tone for Elegant Rhythm’s side B: a deeply personal, though somewhat veiled, confession of loss. How does it feel to grieve something that was never really here? A smouldering, slowly progressing first half erupts in synthetic noise, and then fades into the ether with it’s repeating refrain, “I can feel you / feel you fade away / when there’s nothing / nothing left to say”.

Fall ahead - A sweet piano tune which serves as a quiet break in the record, intended to help the listener reflect and take a moment of pause before we reach the final two songs on the album.

HST underwater - The penultimate track on the record tells a story where the narrator finds themself in an alien, yet oddly familiar place. Arpeggios soaked in crystal blue water flow through the stereo field, while the narrator, vocoded and drenched in autotune, searches for meaning and purpose in a confusing world. This is one of Teen Daze’s most cinematic, emotional songs yet.

In the rain - It’s never really made explicitly clear on this record, but a lot of these songs find Teen Daze wrestling with life as a new father, and this song, the final on the album, expresses the fears of generational trauma. A touching, tender ode to his children, we hear Teen Daze at his most personal and vulnerable. The falling rain surrounds some absolutely breathtaking bass playing from Sam Wilkes, and Teen Daze’s signature ambient keyboard sounds.

Radio Support: Ruf Dug (Soup To Nuts on NTS)

The analog LP reissue of the original soundtrack album from the anime Mr. Ajikko, which aired in 1987. The original LP catalog number is K28G-7379, and the original
CD catalog number is K32X-7125, released on June 21, 1988 (the tracklist differs from the CD released in 2004, which included eight newly added tracks).
The original manga, created by Daisuke Terasawa, was serialized in Weekly Shonen Magazine from autumn 1986 to the end of 1989, and was adapted into an anime
series that aired on TV Tokyo from October 1987 to September 1989.

This is the only soundtrack album for the anime series. It features the opening theme “Renaissance Jounetsu” and the ending theme “Kokoro no Photograph”, both
composed and sung by singer songwriter Wataru Kuniyasu, who is also known for composing Akina Nakamori’s “Gypsy Queen”. Lyrics were written by Ikki Matsumoto,
and arrangements were done by Tatsumi Yano.

The album includes image songs, eyecatch music, and preview tracks, with contributions from renowned comedy song artists Masayuki Yamamoto (Side A tracks 4 and 6)
and Tatsuo Kamon (Side B tracks 1 and 7). The album was structured, scripted, and directed by the anime’s director Yasuhiro Imagawa, making it a variety style album.
The main background music (BGM) was composed and arranged by Daito Fujita (Side A tracks 1, 3, 5, 7; Side B tracks 3, 5). The original manga author Daisuke
Terasawa also contributed lyrics for two songs (Side B tracks 3 and 5). Voice actor Tomohiro Nishimura participated both as a singer (Side A track 8; Side B track 7)
and as an arranger (Side B track 7).

Voice actors Minami Takayama, Yoko Kawanami, Miki Narahashi, Hirotaka Suzuoki, and Kenyu Horiuchi also participated in min dramas and chorus segments.
This album, which comically and dramatically portrays cooking battles, is a “Bravo!” anime soundtrack that closes out the Showa era in style. After 37 years, it is finally
being reissued as an analog LP a long-awaited release for anime connoisseurs!

When we did the first ever vinyl reissue of this 1972 masterpiece back in 2012 it sold out so fast and so many lost the chance to grab a copy has translated into continuous messages asking us to do a repressing of this marvel - which we did and, again, it sold like hot bread. So here is a new edition of this UK jazz masterpiece, this time with a twist :

- Silk-screened cover art : we respect the original design, but have upgraded the printing from regular offset to silk screen to give it an artistic touch!

- In adition to the limited black vinyl edition (400 copies), we offer an ultra limited clear vinyl version (100 copies-only!)

One of the big names in UK Jazz, Neil Ardley was offered the leadership of the seminal New Jazz Orchestra in 1964. Under his direction the Orchestra moved though different styles and changes of personnel, bringing in musicians such as Mike Gibbs (trombone), Harry Beckett andHenry Lowther (trumpets) or even Jack Bruce (bass), some of them also contributed with the writing of some original compositions, making the NJO the root from which the UK's 70's jazz scene was to blossom.

By 1972 the NJO was already defunct, but his legacy remained in the works of its members. Ardley's 'A Symphony Of Amaranths' is a perfect example of what was boiling in the UK jazz scene. It was Ardleys tribute to his idols Duke Ellington and Gil Evans, and featured the skills of some great musicians of the scene including Don Rendell,Stan Tracey, Henry Lowther, Harry Beckett, Jeff Clyne & Jon Hiseman. Side B is inspired by the words of Edward Lear, W. B. Yeats, James Joyce and Lewis Carroll that are musicated by Ardley and feature, among other highlights, Ivor Cutler's narration of 'The Dong With A Luminous Nose' and Norma Winstone's vocals on 'Will You Walk A Little Faster'.



Musicians that participated in the recording session :

- Derek Watkins, Nigel Carter, Henry Lowther, Harold Beckett (trumpets)
- Derek Wadsworth, Ray Premru (trombones)
- Dick Hart (tuba)
- Barbara Thompson, Dave Gelly, Don Rendell, Dick Heckstall-Smith (woodwind, saxes)
- John Clementson (oboe)
- Bunny Gould (bassoon)
- Dave Gelly (glockenspiel)
- Neil Ardley (prepared piano)
- David Snell, Sidonie Goossens (harp)
- Stan Tracey (piano, celeste)
- Karl Jenkins (electric piano)
- Alan Branscombe (harpsichord)
- Frank Ricotti (vibraphone, percussion)
- Chris Laurence, Jeff Clyne (bass)
- Jon Hiseman (drums, percussion)
- Eric Gruenberg, Jack Rothstein, Kelly Isaacs (violin)
- Ken Essex (viola)
- Charles Tunnell, Francis Gabarro (cello)
- Ivor Cutler (narrator)
- Norma Winstone (vocal)
- Jack Rothstein, Neil Ardley (conductors)

When we did the first ever vinyl reissue of this 1972 masterpiece back in 2012 it sold out so fast and so many lost the chance to grab a copy has translated into continuous messages asking us to do a repressing of this marvel - which we did and, again, it sold like hot bread. So here is a new edition of this UK jazz masterpiece, this time with a twist :

- Silk-screened cover art : we respect the original design, but have upgraded the printing from regular offset to silk screen to give it an artistic touch!

- In adition to the limited black vinyl edition (400 copies), we offer an ultra limited clear vinyl version (100 copies-only!)

One of the big names in UK Jazz, Neil Ardley was offered the leadership of the seminal New Jazz Orchestra in 1964. Under his direction the Orchestra moved though different styles and changes of personnel, bringing in musicians such as Mike Gibbs (trombone), Harry Beckett andHenry Lowther (trumpets) or even Jack Bruce (bass), some of them also contributed with the writing of some original compositions, making the NJO the root from which the UK's 70's jazz scene was to blossom.

By 1972 the NJO was already defunct, but his legacy remained in the works of its members. Ardley's 'A Symphony Of Amaranths' is a perfect example of what was boiling in the UK jazz scene. It was Ardleys tribute to his idols Duke Ellington and Gil Evans, and featured the skills of some great musicians of the scene including Don Rendell,Stan Tracey, Henry Lowther, Harry Beckett, Jeff Clyne & Jon Hiseman. Side B is inspired by the words of Edward Lear, W. B. Yeats, James Joyce and Lewis Carroll that are musicated by Ardley and feature, among other highlights, Ivor Cutler's narration of 'The Dong With A Luminous Nose' and Norma Winstone's vocals on 'Will You Walk A Little Faster'.



Musicians that participated in the recording session :

- Derek Watkins, Nigel Carter, Henry Lowther, Harold Beckett (trumpets)
- Derek Wadsworth, Ray Premru (trombones)
- Dick Hart (tuba)
- Barbara Thompson, Dave Gelly, Don Rendell, Dick Heckstall-Smith (woodwind, saxes)
- John Clementson (oboe)
- Bunny Gould (bassoon)
- Dave Gelly (glockenspiel)
- Neil Ardley (prepared piano)
- David Snell, Sidonie Goossens (harp)
- Stan Tracey (piano, celeste)
- Karl Jenkins (electric piano)
- Alan Branscombe (harpsichord)
- Frank Ricotti (vibraphone, percussion)
- Chris Laurence, Jeff Clyne (bass)
- Jon Hiseman (drums, percussion)
- Eric Gruenberg, Jack Rothstein, Kelly Isaacs (violin)
- Ken Essex (viola)
- Charles Tunnell, Francis Gabarro (cello)
- Ivor Cutler (narrator)
- Norma Winstone (vocal)
- Jack Rothstein, Neil Ardley (conductors)

Taba voices a subtle yet surprising shift for the Japanese musician and producer Satomimagae. Observing and absorbing the fleeting scenes and sounds of life flowing outside of her home studio, Taba unfolds as a series of vignettes that document the personal and the universal. Satomi sings beyond herself in an orbit of souls and systems known and unknown, seen and unseen, in the present and in the strange flux of memory, leaving linear songwriting to rest for circuitous stories expanded and expansive in tone and texture. Following the logic of taba, a Japanese term for a bunch, bundle or grouping together of different things, the album is assembled as a loose collection of short stories. Shapeshifting into something like a poet-narrator, Satomi casts her writer's eye to the often perplexing shapes that form from quotidian events and exchanges defining our increasingly alienated age. Where Satomi's last full-length, 2021's Hanazono, bloomed from the lush soil of a private inner sphere, the bird's eye of Taba searches to place the artist_somewhere, somehow_within a wider, wilder world. Collaborations with other artists and musicians close to Satomi's universe further elevate the album's sweeping sonics. Synthesizer lines from Norio, who also helps define the album's visual identity through photo and video, enliven the tender ballad "Kodama." The bell-like Rhodes piano ringing in and around Satomi's guitar on "Dottsu" is played by Akhira Sano, who created the cover art for her 2021 Colloid EP. Yuya Shito's clarinet was the missing puzzle piece that completed "Spells," and it was also Yuya who mixed Taba with an ear for its organic textures and elegantly frayed edges, giving utterance to a distinctly different energy than Satomi's earlier expressions. The tonal and rhythmic play that lay the foundation of these songs also animates a colorful palette of melodic gestures, noisy resonances and pointed moments captured by Satomi's close-at-hand recorder. While Taba is still carried by the innate intimacy that has defined Satomi's music to date, these songs channel her newly spacious and inquisitive songwriting approach, unlocking unusual layers in the process. Some are subsumed in the speculative poetics of sound design, while others peer through the window of bedroom pop. Gathering imagistic reflections, tracing vast ideations and quietly lingering in humble moments, Taba connects vivid lines between the individual and the collective, the constructed and the cosmic, the articulated and the felt. Satomi's sonic tales gain an eloquent coherence by the simple fact of existing in conversation, humming a harmony of parts that buzzes with the tangled circuitry of a life in motion. Taba is the fifth album from Japanese musician, songwriter and dream traveler Satomimagae, following her 2021 album Hanazono and the 2023 reissue of her debut album Awa, both for RVNG Intl. On Taba, Satomimagae leaves linear songwriting to rest for circuitous stories expanded and expansive in tone and texture, unfolding as a series of vignettes that document both the personal and the universal. Some of the songs on Taba feature intimate moments captured on Satomi's hand recorder, poetic moments of sound design animated by tonal and rhythmic bedroom pop foundations. As with Hanazono, Taba's album artwork features a wooden block print by Satomi's sister, the artist Natsumi Magae.

Neon Orange & Black Vinyl. With Information (2019), Cleveland-raised, New York-based producer and DJ Galcher Lustwerk marked his debut LP on Ghostly International, having already carved out a lane of low-key hip-house music with his instant classic 100% GALCHER mixtape: deep, smooth, psychedelic, equally cut for the club, after-hours, night drives, and headphones. Lustwerk leveled up for Information, experimenting with more live drums and jazz saxophone to create a new dynamic, what he considered a hookier, more bittersweet, Midwest mindset. Lustwerk emerged in 2013 with the game-changing 100% GALCHER for the beloved mix series Blowing Up The Workshop, later named a mix of the decade by Resident Advisor. The signature sound - a smoky stream-of-consciousness baritone shadow-boxing with beats, informed by funk, rap, rhythm, and blues - felt like an epiphany distinctly linked to the expanse of Midwest driving and the strobe-lit detachment of club culture. Now over a decade into his musical vision, Lustwerk remains an elusive nightlife narrator, embodied by the hooks and a growing catalog that's proven influential and singular.

Sunset edition - 300 copies

Driving is Sam Wilkes’ Indie Rock record. Iit is the first release on Wilkes Records, an imprint borne of the artist’s emergent need to self-release. The songs presented here exist comfortably within the ever-expanding Wilkesian cosmos, characterized as they are by virtuosity, torqued experimentalism, and collaboration with a range of talented musicians. But Driving’s influences, its sincerity, and its allegiance to a certain pop sensibility reflects a departure for an artist who has primarily staked his claim within the experimental jazz idiom.

Take the first track, “Folk Home,” which inaugurates the album’s fecundity—a bright, green, humid, summer feel. A swirling, freakout coda of reversed vocals gives way, in no short order, to a caterwaul of flute work that conjures Van Morrison’s (in)famous Astral Weeks sessions. Standing beside Morrison, the usual suspects are all present, if somewhat abstractedly. Dylan, The Dead, Joni, the Fab Four. Wilkes has developed a reputation as an experimental jazz luminary, but his deep affinity for the pop/rock/folk idiom of the latter twentieth century rings clear throughout Driving. More so than any Wilkes release to date, Driving is a collection guided by and dedicated to the man’s attention to songcraft.

Written and recorded during a period of rain-damage induced renter’s itinerance (and the attendant desire to produce a kind of therapeutic, self-soothing, home-feeling music), Driving loosely charts the trajectory/experience of “a protagonist,” both Wilkes and not, “who has figured out how to live an enlightened and fulfilled life, but is unable to do so because he thinks about it too much.” This friction is surely relatable — a symptom of our compulsively self-aware present. But Wilkes avoids the obvious pitfalls of public hand-wringing. Rather, Driving’s nine tracks evince a genuine, and mature searching-ness, both sonically and lyrically. The ending refrain of “Own” serves like something close to a thesis— “Letting go // isn’t a concept // it’s an action.” In an attempt to beat back ego, hyper-cogitation, language itself, Wilkes arrives at an axiom that feels so true and familiar, you’d swear you’d heard it one hundred times before.

Driving’s final third is, fittingly, its most emotive and cathartic. Tracks seven and eight, “Again, Again” and “And Again,” form a diptych, joined most obviously by the jangling, recursive grooves of guitarist Daryl Johns. Wilkes is said to have encouraged Johns to go “full Lindsey Buckingham” (clearly a welcome and resonant prompt), but one also catches stray Knopfler vibes, some intermittent Fripp, and (perhaps more-so in tone than technique) the spirit of DIY prophet and jangling man himself, Martin Newell (the Cleaners from Venus). Wilkes has stated that he finds joy in creating musical environments suitable to the contribution and flourishing of his favorite musicians. Throughout Driving, and in these two tracks especially, he has more than succeeded.

The record closes with the titular track: a story-song that, according to Wilkes, poured out of him (melody, composition, and lyrics) in a single sitting. The tale is told plainly, bravely, starkly; a mistake was made, regrets have been had, and all is wrapped up in the recollection of a deeply felt adolescent heartsickness—a time when the narrator was first afire with music and automotive freedom. The song captures the moment when meaning inexplicably falls into place, when a long-nagging memory suddenly assumes narrative form, and the subsequent sense of lightness and unburdening. It is fitting that Driving, a record conceived as a form of self-therapy, should culminate with a sense of humble revelation. That Wilkes is plainly eager to share the vulnerable fruits of this labor constitutes Driving’s joyful offering.

Words by Emmett Shoemaker

Fust--the lyrical powerhouse Southern rock band from Durham, North Carolina--announce their new album Big Ugly, out March 7th on Dear Life Records, the record label that launched the careers of MJ Lenderman and Florry and that has become a haven for contemporary songwriters. Big Ugly arrives after the release of 2024's Songs of the Rail--"one of the best alt-country compilations_in a long, long time" (Paste) -- and 2023's standout Genevieve, which unassumingly introduced new listeners to Fust's unmistakable blend of "small-town poetry" (Mojo) with a familiar yet probing "country-tinged folk-rock" (KEXP) that made it "one of the most fun rock records of the year" (Pitchfork). Genevieve was their studio debut, recorded with producer Alex Farrar (Manning Fireworks, Rat Saw God, Tomorrow's Fire) in Asheville, North Carolina. The reception was far better than the band expected, stirring them to immediately start working on Big Ugly, their second collaboration with Farrar. Recorded over ten days in June of 2024, Big Ugly is the explosive sound of Fust uncovering a freedom within their sincere form of loose and fried guitar rock, realizing more than ever before an intimacy within bigness. The members -- Aaron Dowdy, Avery Sullivan, Frank Meadows, John Wallace, Justin Morris, Libby Rodenbough, Oliver Child-Lanning--weave their voices alongside guests like Merce Lemon, Dave Hartley (The War on Drugs), and John James Tourville (The Deslondes) to form a music that sounds like a conversation between old friends. And that's exactly what it is. At its heart, Big Ugly is a story cycle, following tough-skinned characters who seem to inhabit a shared and fictional small town--Big Ugly--that in reality gets its name from a lowly populated and unincorporated area in southern West Virginia around where Dowdy's family has deep roots. The album cover_a mural from the Big Ugly Community Center just off the Big Ugly Creek--was painted by locals for a 2004 play performed by the children that interpreted their elders' stories. In a way, Fust's Big Ugly does something similar as it takes the same area as its backdrop and reimagines a life depicted in the mural between the bars, gas stations, general stores, and double-wides. Throughout the album, we join the characters in finding history and meaning in the banal theater of their own private jerkwater.The songs on Big Ugly are hearteningly varied, moving from beer-fisted radio country to elegiac drones to deconstructed ballads. Songs like "Spangled" take up the theme of past traumas and present desensitizations colliding, of the small and cosmic coinciding in the life of a heedless protagonist. "Bleached" finds the soul-searching narrator recalling the feeling of inner vacancy in their childhood: thoughtless, speechless, herded around like cattle in backseats. And "Mountain Language" laments the poverties of Southern life at the same time that it promotes a higher poverty, a country utopia that's just out of grasp, where we could live if we could only "make it up the mountain again." The mystical hermeticism and the dime-store everyday are two sides of every insignificant thing in the town of Big Ugly.

Maud the moth, the solo project of Spanish-born and Scotland-based pianist, singer and songwriter Amaya Lopez-Carromero announces her new album, The Distaff, to be released via The Larvarium (digital +CD) and La Rubia Producciones (vinyl) Amaya has long used the mantle of Maud the moth as an alter-ego, a séance-like conduit to explore themes of rootlessness, identity and trauma. The Distaff in particular refers to the stick or spindle onto which wool or flax is wound for spinning, and an object which has historically been used across multiple cultures as a symbol wielded by the “virtuous woman”, an authoritarian ideal around which much of the trauma surrounding the feminine coalesces. The album takes the form of a sort of self reflective and surreal autobiography. It was in part inspired by the poem of the same name written by the Greek poet Erinna, as she mourns her friend's loss of individuality and agency in exchange for marriage - and therefore safety and acceptance in the eyes of society. The album exists in an ethereal but violent world of aesthetic overlaps where time stands still and fictional and reimagined folk sits at the table with Maud the moth’s usual sonic menagerie. It is the result of a lifetime of obsession with sound and music, where glimpses of musical genre offer insight into Amaya’s artistic interests and her participation in the underground European scene for many years, in bands such as healthyliving. Heavier, darker, and more exposed than any of her previous works it features some highly accomplished artists, such as Seb Rochford (Patti Smith, Polar Bear, Sons of Kemet, Pulled by magnets, etc.) on drums, Alison Chesley (Helen Money) on cello, Fay Guiffo on violin and Scott McLean (Ashenspire, healthyliving, Falloch) on guitar, saxophone and synthesiser. Maud the moth shares the video for "Siphonophores". About the track, Maud the moth says; I wrote "Siphonophores" on guitar, during the first lockdown, a period where I was kind of trapped between an almost empty flat in Edinburgh and Dresden. It was an incredibly harrowing time, but also one of hope and where important new things were being birthed. I felt incredibly sensitive to everything, almost like life was happening in slow motion. I´m not a confident guitarist since I am completely self-taught, but, probably because of this, I feel that this instrument allows me to focus on aspects of the songwriting that I normally overlook when writing on piano, and I think it was a necessary step for this song to exist. Something else which I've been really exploiting lately and features strongly in the album is the percussive capabilities of the piano, and in particular, of the sustain pedal when mic'd up. This can be heard very clearly at the beginning of "Siphonophores". Written and arranged by Amaya, with some contributions in the later role from the aforementioned collaborators, the album presents nine tracks originally written entirely on acoustic piano as accompanied voice pieces, in pure singer-songwriter fashion. The album was co-produced and recorded by Scott and Amaya in different studios across the UK between January and July of 2024, in a process that started shortly after the 2020 pandemic and finished alongside the album recordings in a detailed, organic and at times obsessive process aimed primarily at capturing the natural dynamics and expression of free performance. The Distaff was mixed in its entirety by Scott and mastered at Abbey Road by Alex Wharton (Radiohead, My Bloody Valentine, Aurora, Kathryn Joseph etc.) Despite being born of a very personal point of view, the album lacks a specific narrator and was conceived almost as a sonic trousseau, where the needle point, silks and other family heirlooms have been swapped for out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye memories of rural Spain by the vineyards, family disputes, old tales of wartime pains, generational breaches and finally the conflict of migration and estrangement. The songs paint dystopian pastoral scenes which evolve throughout the span of one fictional day outside of time and coherent locations and where imagination (often the only account surviving from traumatic events and gaslighting) has become indistinguishable from fact. The Distaff attempts to acknowledge past trauma, comprehend and process some of the more difficult aspects which have contributed to our darker self and offer closure and solace through creative catharsis.

Maud the moth, the solo project of Spanish-born and Scotland-based pianist, singer and songwriter Amaya Lopez-Carromero announces her new album, The Distaff, to be released via The Larvarium (digital +CD) and La Rubia Producciones (vinyl) Amaya has long used the mantle of Maud the moth as an alter-ego, a séance-like conduit to explore themes of rootlessness, identity and trauma. The Distaff in particular refers to the stick or spindle onto which wool or flax is wound for spinning, and an object which has historically been used across multiple cultures as a symbol wielded by the “virtuous woman”, an authoritarian ideal around which much of the trauma surrounding the feminine coalesces. The album takes the form of a sort of self reflective and surreal autobiography. It was in part inspired by the poem of the same name written by the Greek poet Erinna, as she mourns her friend's loss of individuality and agency in exchange for marriage - and therefore safety and acceptance in the eyes of society. The album exists in an ethereal but violent world of aesthetic overlaps where time stands still and fictional and reimagined folk sits at the table with Maud the moth’s usual sonic menagerie. It is the result of a lifetime of obsession with sound and music, where glimpses of musical genre offer insight into Amaya’s artistic interests and her participation in the underground European scene for many years, in bands such as healthyliving. Heavier, darker, and more exposed than any of her previous works it features some highly accomplished artists, such as Seb Rochford (Patti Smith, Polar Bear, Sons of Kemet, Pulled by magnets, etc.) on drums, Alison Chesley (Helen Money) on cello, Fay Guiffo on violin and Scott McLean (Ashenspire, healthyliving, Falloch) on guitar, saxophone and synthesiser. Maud the moth shares the video for "Siphonophores". About the track, Maud the moth says; I wrote "Siphonophores" on guitar, during the first lockdown, a period where I was kind of trapped between an almost empty flat in Edinburgh and Dresden. It was an incredibly harrowing time, but also one of hope and where important new things were being birthed. I felt incredibly sensitive to everything, almost like life was happening in slow motion. I´m not a confident guitarist since I am completely self-taught, but, probably because of this, I feel that this instrument allows me to focus on aspects of the songwriting that I normally overlook when writing on piano, and I think it was a necessary step for this song to exist. Something else which I've been really exploiting lately and features strongly in the album is the percussive capabilities of the piano, and in particular, of the sustain pedal when mic'd up. This can be heard very clearly at the beginning of "Siphonophores". Written and arranged by Amaya, with some contributions in the later role from the aforementioned collaborators, the album presents nine tracks originally written entirely on acoustic piano as accompanied voice pieces, in pure singer-songwriter fashion. The album was co-produced and recorded by Scott and Amaya in different studios across the UK between January and July of 2024, in a process that started shortly after the 2020 pandemic and finished alongside the album recordings in a detailed, organic and at times obsessive process aimed primarily at capturing the natural dynamics and expression of free performance. The Distaff was mixed in its entirety by Scott and mastered at Abbey Road by Alex Wharton (Radiohead, My Bloody Valentine, Aurora, Kathryn Joseph etc.) Despite being born of a very personal point of view, the album lacks a specific narrator and was conceived almost as a sonic trousseau, where the needle point, silks and other family heirlooms have been swapped for out-of-the-corner-of-the-eye memories of rural Spain by the vineyards, family disputes, old tales of wartime pains, generational breaches and finally the conflict of migration and estrangement. The songs paint dystopian pastoral scenes which evolve throughout the span of one fictional day outside of time and coherent locations and where imagination (often the only account surviving from traumatic events and gaslighting) has become indistinguishable from fact. The Distaff attempts to acknowledge past trauma, comprehend and process some of the more difficult aspects which have contributed to our darker self and offer closure and solace through creative catharsis.

Ginnels never let up. Though it has been, staggeringly, eight long years since the last irresistible jangle pop transmission under the Ginnels moniker, nothing much has changed in Mark Chester's approach when it comes to the practice of music making, even if much everything else for Chester has seen considerable flux – he's now a father of two, and most shockingly of all for an indie popster of his ilk, gainfully employed. "It definitely started the same way all Ginnels stuff starts," Chester explains, "which is just me looking through five years of phone demos and going 'that's a decent song' and 'that's a decent song', and if you keep that up then you have a full album."

The man himself might be coyly committed to making his process sound as pedestrian as possible, but from the moment the delicate chiming introduction of album opener 'The Body Was Gone' goes widescreen – revealing an expanded sonic palette richer in timbre and exponentially wider in scope than anything Chester has let out into the world thus far – it is apparent that "The Picturesque" is poised to be less than parochial in its sonic purview.

From here, "The Picturesque" plays like a gauzy road trip Super 8 footage cutting between scenes of sunset at Monument Valley and B-roll from around middle-Ireland, entirely soundtracked by some enchanted mixtape of heretofore unheard B sides from REM, XTC and The Go-Betweens, unexpected guest appearances from the surprisingly together-sounding ghost of Johnny Thunders and snippets from your coolest friends' unreleased instrumental experiments. All liberally rippled with Chester's unique ear for melody and appetite for the unexpected when it comes to crafting guitar parts. And this, by design, feels like a Guitar Record, above all else.

For all its effortlessly sticky lyrical and melodic twists, "The Picturesque" separates itself within the mighty Ginnels catalogue in both the dexterity in playing and diversity in tone on show across these 12 tracks. And 12, of course as we know, being the optimum number of tracks for any LP to have, so bonus points for that too.

Drink Ring Jesus, the second album from Nashville based singer-songwriter Simmons was originally released in 2006 during a period of vast political and social change in America. Post 9/11 the age-old battle between good and evil, God versus Satan if you want to get personal, once again eased into view agitating hearts and minds. Like all songwriters with just their art to carve themselves a foothold in a world becoming less identifiable, Simmons produced an album that is both intimate and deeply inquisitive yet, like all the great folk records, its universal themes of hope, redemption, pain and despair will resonate with all who hear it.

Nearly twenty years on from its initial release Drink Ring Jesus feels as relevant now as it did then. From the opening lines of the title track Simmons is clearly caught in a time of intense personal reflection. It’s not an unusual pathway to tread for songwriters and artists alike, indeed many have fell by its wayside over the years, yet here our narrator is both looking for a way through and calling on something deeper than just instinct for guidance. We are right on the frontline, characters battling on the very precipice of sanctuary or sacrifice on the likes Time To Pay and Devil’s Work Is Never Done, before literally scavenging a ticket to Hope Station on the evocative Next Stop Redemption. There isn’t a moment where you feel Simmons is taking the easy way out or shying from titanic confrontation. Anything but. It’s in the no-mans land where these songs impact the most, at the very alchemy where despair turns to optimism or defeat.

On FORGIVENESS, SLIM0 sets the scene with a scream tearing apart the silence. “Stars! I’m Coming!” introduces the Danish/Montegrinian/Iranian trio's debut album in mere 1:11 mins; it’s disruptive, energetic, almost scornful. The stage is filled with a multitude of characters at high pace, but are we witnessing a comedy or a tragedy? The opening soon gives way to a much gloomier mood throughout, revealing a full body of work conveyed through personal takes on classic rock tropes with SLIM0 as the omniscient narrator.

FORGIVENESS came to life through long live session jams and recordings melted into their rawest essence by the enigmatic artist and producer Aase Nielsen, who has closely collaborated with the group in forming their first full length release. Urgency, noise and desire characterise the musical and artistic expression on the record, where hardcore rock lives side by side with pop cultural references. On previous releases, SLIM0 have drawn upon choir, alternative indie, prog rock and grunge (EPs ‘sol i øjet’ and ‘lifespan’ as well as multiple singles). FORGIVENESS sees them cultivating all of these elements while stepping into an even meaner space, and which better place to go to for this than the world of punk, rock, doom.

Bastille melden mit einem neuen Album „&“ zurück! Es handelt sich um ein Soloprojekt von Dan, das
unter ‘Bastille Presents‘ erscheinen wird.
Das Album ist in jeder Hinsicht zurückhaltend, von der Musik bis zum Kreativen. Textlich schöpft das
Album aus den Geschichten interessanter Individuen und Charaktere im Laufe der Geschichte. Dan spricht
über das Album: ”Ich wollte eine schöne Sammlung von Story-Songs machen - mit dem Leben von verschiedenen interessanten Menschen - um über das Leben, mein Leben und menschliche Erfahrungen zu
sprechen. Diese Sammlung von Tracks klingt intim, organisch und anders, als die Leute es vielleicht
erwarten, und ich bin sehr stolz auf das Gesamtwerk.”

Recorded by long-time collaborator and producer Elliot Heinrich at the band’s own Pony Studios in East London, it’s clear that Tempesst spent time developing a sound tailored to the subject matter. Parallels can be drawn from the great alternative writers of the nineties (Stipe, Buckley, Cocker) by way of the storied lineage of the dark narrators (Cohen, Waits, Cave). “My process is mostly reactive, like writing a journal and reflecting on what I watch, read and listen to,” says Lyricist Toma Banjanin, citing “The Myth of Sisyphus” by Albert Camus as an influence of the record. Forbidden Fruit showcases a new sound, shedding their previous Spector-esque production for a modern hi-fi approach. Tempesst maintain a surrealist soundscape with precision, conjuring images of René Magritte: layered sounds within sounds to draw the listener deeper. They lean into chaos, with fuzz-infused, reverb-laden guitars that drone through the record indifferent to harmony, restrained by a swampy rhythm section. Tempesst reach for the bright lights of the expressionist late eighties while descending into the rawness of the early nineties.

Probably in another life David Edren (DSR Lines) was a visionary biologist or chemist. In this new sound adventure, he becomes the narrator of anatomical and cellular symphonies, catharsis of invisible biochemical processes, painting the micro-dimensional flows of the subtle body or imaginary geographies of hidden micro-bodies. Here, his organic electronic music is enriched with new lymphs that also vaguely recall the influences of non-European music, especially Chinese and Japanese music (stick and chimes percussions) in an intimate and twilight dimension, poised between exotic ambient and cinematic suggestions. A miniaturistic description of liquid currents, labyrinthine veins, weaving streams, molecules and particles in multi-orbital dances, muscular chords, drowning bubbles, light waves; all in a confident compositional overview that is absolutely unique and fascinating.

Probably in another life David Edren (DSR Lines) was a visionary biologist or chemist. In this new sound adventure, he becomes the narrator of anatomical and cellular symphonies, catharsis of invisible biochemical processes, painting the micro-dimensional flows of the subtle body or imaginary geographies of hidden micro-bodies. Here, his organic electronic music is enriched with new lymphs that also vaguely recall the influences of non-European music, especially Chinese and Japanese music (stick and chimes percussions) in an intimate and twilight dimension, poised between exotic ambient and cinematic suggestions. A miniaturistic description of liquid currents, labyrinthine veins, weaving streams, molecules and particles in multi-orbital dances, muscular chords, drowning bubbles, light waves; all in a confident compositional overview that is absolutely unique and fascinating.

Okokon returns to Other People with his sophomore album, 'Offering', delving deeper into the lush and cinematic soundscapes he first explored on his debut album, 'Turkson Side'. While primarily working in visual arts, Africanus Okokon, who records under his surname, bridges his artistic practices in 'Offering', using his masterful collage techniques to create his most personal work yet. Defying easy
categorization, the album melds influences from dream pop, avant-garde folk, psychedelia, trip hop, and dub, with traces of field recordings seamlessly blended throughout to form a cohesive whole.
'Offering' sees Okokon confronting and negotiating a sudden and unexplained death that occurred in his childhood and the complex emotions left in its aftermath, acting as his main inspiration when
making the album. This ambiguity is something that permeates throughout, with Okokon wanting to explore the ambivalence and sometimes uneasiness of contradicting emotions appearing
simultaneously, alluded to in the album title. This is also reflected in how the album tracks each inhabit different narrators with varying perspectives on the same events. The result being a hauntingly
beautiful album, with recurring themes of death, growth, sacrifice and spirituality ever present.

Transcendental poetry meets Southern Nightmare Jazz on the third album by Alabama-based artist Johnny Coley Mister Sweet Whisper is the meeting of poet & artist Johnny Coley and the band Worst Spills, led by guitarist & arranger Joel Nelson. (Imagine "King Tubbys Meets Rockers Uptown," but more like "William Burroughs Meets Lounge Lizards in Ghost Swamp"). Joined by vibraphone player and recordist of the group, Jasper Lee, Mister Sweet Whisper centers Coley as a gifted writer and unique elder voice, supported by an eclectic cast of friends & collaborators. Tapping into French surrealism and transgressive American poets such as John Ashbery, the songs in Mister Sweet Whisper evolve, cinema-like, with Coley as an uninhibited, almost mystical, narrator. Textural, jazz-like playing complements Coley's decadent landscapes, which glide by like cigarette-inspired invocations. Echoing, and at times, dissonant notes of saxophone, crystalline tones of vibraphone, and jagged guitar arrangements punctuate Coley's dreamlike visions, populated by ballet dancers, haunting nightclubs, and ghostly car drivers. Wistful and expansive, the songs in Mister Sweet Whisper speak of Coley's talent and natural ability to channel his poetic world into songs. A remarkable follow-up to Coley's first two albums_Antique Sadness, from 2021, and Landscape Man, from 2022_which were praised as "exquisitely haunting, sublime, hilarious" and falling "somewhere between Robert Ashley, David Wojnarowicz, and Intersystems," Mister Sweet Whisper arrives in full form: unpredictable and brilliant. LP comes with a 4-page booklet featuring artwork and writing by Johnny. Pressed in black vinyl.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Love Is A Flame In The Dark is the debut album by experimental songwriter Karl D’Silva. A raw labour of love, a towering spire of twisted steel, tenderness and becoming, it’s a body of songs that belies the virtuoso talents of an artist whose reputation has been built on collaborating with various avant garde underground luminaries. Self-recorded at home in Rotherham and pulsing with the conviction of a true believer, these songs burst out of their self-consciousness to meet life head on, bristling with energy, 10 glimpses of the human spirit in the darkness.
Recorded throughout 2021 - 2023 and mixed in Leeds with engineer Ross Halden, D’Silva has constructed a Pop language for himself. Mutated songs that owe a small debt to the post-Industrial music of Cabaret Voltaire, Nine Inch Nails and Coil, they’re nonetheless powered by a vigorous tenderness, earnestness and D’Silva’s knack for melody. Each song is meticulously sound-designed, using synthesised sounds created from scratch married with D’Silva’s virtuoso playing on saxophone and guitar. The songs on Love Is A Flame In The Dark are unabashed, earnest love letters to living, requiems for a world fading away and small gestures of solidarity in the face of entropy.
Until now, D’Silva’s fingerprints could be found on live dates with Thurston Moore, Oren Ambarchi, Hardcore pioneers Siege and Rian Treanor as well as recordings by previous groups Trumpets Of Death and Drunk In Hell. Primarily associated with the alto saxophone in his improvisation work, Love Is A Flame In The Dark features a dizzying array of instrumentation, all played by D’Silva. D’Silva’s current membership of the group Vanishing may be a good touchstone for the dense, sonically thrilling world-building on the album but the most
striking instrument, perhaps, is D’Silva’s voice. With a soulful, rasping timbre resulting from prolonged intubation as a new-born, his vocal is both fearless and tender. On the soaring, electronic body mover Wild Kiss, thundering percussion is in service to Karl’s voice full of desire, arching up into a flayed falsetto. It’s a trick repeated on Flowers Start To Cry, where it’s deployed against the backdrop of layers of ripping alto and thudding drum programming that recall Nine Inch Nails’ visceral production, if they were covering a Prince hit. These songs capture the essence of 2024’s Karl D’Silva music; pure physicality
breaking down to reveal a shining, compassionate vulnerability.
The full breadth of Karl D’Silva’s instrumental prowess is in evidence from the off. On The Outside imagines blooming out of personal apocalypse with a soundscape of synth, saxophone worthy of any late 60s Free Jazz blower and crushing sound design. Entropy is planet-sized synth pop, Nowhere Left To Run uses midi-string orchestration to tell a story of light emerging from the dark. It’s a theme picked up
throughout the album: The Butcher is a political parable, the narrator holding power to account with grotesque, brutal imagery. It’s on a track
like Real Life that the true message emerges, however. D’Silva is peering through the layers of artifice, struggle and the fog of daily
living to find a life full of energy, connection and light. Each song here is a route into this light, out of the darkness.

History must take its course.
Demon Records presents, for the first time on double 140g green and
yellow translucent vinyl, the complete narrated TV soundtrack of ‘Doctor
Who: The Crusade’, with linking narration by William Russell.
The TARDIS travellers materialise in 12th Century Palestine, where
English Crusaders are engaged in a holy war with Saladin, ruler of the
Saracens. When Barbara (Jacqueline Hill) is abducted in a Saracen
ambush, the Doctor (William Hartnell), Vicki (Maureen O’Brien) and Ian
(William Russell) find themselves guests at the palace of King Richard
the Lionheart (Julian Glover).
First broadcast in March and April 1965, the story has become a noted
classic among Doctor Who historical adventures, with a guest cast
including Julian Glover and Jean Marsh.
Only two of its four episodes survive in the BBC TV archive, but this vinyl
release features the complete audio soundtrack. Includes beautifully
illustrated individual sleeves featuring Radio Times-style billings for each
episode.
This release is dedicated to the memory of narrator William Russell, who
died in June aged 99.
Doctor Who is available now on BBC iPlayer in the UK and on Disney+ in the rest of the world,

Swiss intergalactic 3 piece experimentalists lean on a Dadaist theme for their late-night, jam-inspired, and smokey beat laden trip to the cosmos.

Distilling surf rock, jazz and ambience, energised and patched together with spoken word samples, wind instruments and, blunted hip hop beats, ali dada’s album SUM is their invitation to dadaversum’ - their eccentric universe of sound and emotion.

Featuring Orlando Ludens (guitar & ambient soundscapes), Rulla (beats & field recordings) and Max Licht (brass & trombone), experimentation is the trio’s constant and SUM is the result of jams and associative distillation’ always with a fluid sense of genre.

Whilst SUM clearly takes new and furtive steps, ali dada’s sound is wholly their own. Nothing feels rigid here and rules don’t apply. Improvisation lingers in the air, even after the last note fades. A series of sound sketches, dense in detail, stylistically rich, SUM gives licence to couch-melt, sungaze or for those used to wintry climes, add another log on the fire.

“The songs often emerge from imperfect elements or mistakes, like from a loop or glitch. or something I played that wasn’t quite clean and building on that becomes the challenge ” recalls Orlando. Rulla adds “I play a lot of instruments, very, very badly and in music production, I’m trained to craft something awesome out of wonky sounds. That’s how songs emerge from unusual sounds”.

As for who played the double bass, no one remembers. Who belongs to the band and who doesn’t is open to interpretation. Though a core group exists the spotlight remains on experimentation through jam sessions. ali dada is a construct, a dadaverse.

Highlights include the album’s opener 'abolish the police', a mix of guitars, weirded-out wind instruments and Häuserfrau’s ever chilled vocal presence. 'tone print' is the band’s first single from the album, which combines sliding guitar, the infamous psychedelic Tim as a narrator, some early CPU game sound-splats and a meteoric dope beat, providing the head nodding groove. 'ohnedi'’s ambient charm features some gorgeous manipulated choir moments and some fidgety electronic synths.

This is going to be the scariest spoken word record you’ve ever heard. We’re not joking…and neither is Vincent Price. The star of such horror classics as House of Wax, The Abominable Dr. Phibes, and Theatre of Blood (and, of course, narrator of Michael Jackson’s Thriller video) can barely hide his delight while he takes his audience through a graphic and occasionally grisly history lesson in witchcraft from the Bible through the Middle Ages, the Spanish Inquisition, and Nazi Germany. Then, accompanied by occasional eerie, abstract electronic music, Price’s sinister satisfaction only mounts as he provides instruction in the dark arts, with such tracks as “How to Make a Pact with the Devil” and “Curses, Spells, Charms.” It’s all in good fun, of course…or is it? The mysterious writer of the script, one Terry d’Oberoff, has only one other credit to his name: as the “mascot” of an early ‘70s band called…wait for it…Black Magic. This 1969 double-LP release has long been coveted by collectors of the curious and macabre, and for its first reissue in over 50 years, we are giving it the Real Gone treatment, reproducing the gatefold jacket and the full-size, 8-page booklet that accompanied some copies. It’s a combination history textbook and how-to manual in witchcraft, with a title page depicting a particularly unsettling spell called “The Hand of Glory” involving the severed, salted, and dried hand of a convicted felon. We are releasing this one-of-a-kind album on clear with orange “pumpkin” swirl vinyl…Happy Halloween.

10 years after its release, Lydia Loveless sits down at the piano for an intimate reimagining of her landmark album, Somewhere Else. Title track featuring guest vocals by Jason Isbell. “Over the last 10 years I’ve been told by countless people, emotional and earnest, that their favorite record of mine is Something Else. I love that, and I nod in amused reverence to it here. The me of 2012-2013 was drowning in pain and insecurity and my own press, pissed off that nobody could see me for who I really was, what I had really been through, and how hard it was to be me. I was walled in by fears and worries that I would never be good enough. I was struggling with my voice after a debilitating virus and a six week tour. I had rented a little room in the Grandview neighborhood of Columbus and was plugging away on my splintered acoustic guitar with a tape recorder.

I was frustrated as could be, not coming up with anything that I felt was 'me' or even remotely song like. One day, when I finally thought I had a nugget of something, I read the lyrics aloud to my then husband and he looked at me confused and said, 'what are you even trying to say in this, though? Who is the narrator?' I don’t remember what I said to that but I’m sure it wasn’t kind. When I went back into the studio with my friend Caeleigh Featherstone recording me this go round, she looked at me at one point and said, 'Were you singing these songs in front of old dudes? Like, your husband?' Yes, I was, I told her. We both shook our heads and laughed at the hubris on 22-year-old Lydia Loveless.” - Lydia Loveless

Darren Hayman New Starts are a spikey, fresh sounding band recalling the poppier ends of new wave and angular guitar rock. Their influences include The Cars, Breeders, Bay City Rollers, The Velvet Underground and ZZ Top. Lead singer Darren Hayman has his own long career running from the late 90s with John Peel faves Hefner to his more recent thematic and historical albums dealing with the English Civil War, William Morris and forgotten rural idylls. “I wanted a band again,” says Hayman, “and not a band that just backed me up and played my old songs. When we form our first bands in our teens we just find some friends and work through the musical differences. I usually look for players who play in a way I’m used to. This time I looked for variance and was led by people’s personality.” Guitarist Joely Smith of South London’s noise-pop adults and recently DIY-punks Fresh was recommended by a mutual friend who said, ‘She makes everything better’. Hayman and Smith shared a coffee and agreed on the correct number of guitar pedals and decided to proceed without an audition. “There is a tendency for me to make my chords too pretty. Joely cuts against that and plays in the opposite direction.” Hayman is a fan of rules and constraints and employed a new, oblique strategy on this record. “Even though I wrote all the songs, I wanted the songs to belong to everyone during arrangement. I decided that I would say ‘yes’ to every suggestion from the band, regardless of my instinct.” This made the songs warp and bend into new shapes and ensured that the record was the product of four individuals. Bassist Giles Barrett and drummer Will Connor come from funky afro beat influenced band Tigercats. “Pretty much the only rhythm I use, left to my own devices, is the ‘road runner’ rhythm. Will takes to care to find where the drum beat can be and we always end up somewhere I didn’t expect.” More Break Up Songs is a collection of 12 Break Up songs because Darren broke up with someone. Again. “I suck’, he says, “But it’s never anyone’s fault. It makes me very sad but I do have to work through these things in song and there’s always something to learn. I try to make songs about breakups that could be understood by both parties. I’m not interested in nasty songs.” Opening song ‘Little Stone in my Heart’ blisters along with Joely’s wildest guitars. The protagonist will do anything to make things right, but nothing ever is. ‘Under the Striplights’ has driving, choppy, incessant riffs, and is about the need to be anywhere but somewhere other than here. We could be under the moon or under the strip lights as long as we have each other. Another barely kept rule that Darren instigated on this album was that each song would be a tonal equivalent to one from The Velvet Underground’s third album. To that end ‘Don’t Need Persuading’ is this record’s ‘Pale Blue Eyes’ with the narrator being unable to break free of a vortex, knowing they will stay the night against all better judgment. ‘I’ve had a long standing distrust of the guitar,’ says Darren, ‘despite it being my primary instrument for twenty years. I thought it was time I made a record with two guitars and drums and bass. I wanted it to be bright, immediate and young sounding, despite the fact I’m old. We recorded it in four days and I think this might be the record a lot of my audience has wanted me to make for a long time.’ “bold and unique" The Sunday Times. // “Hayman has hit a creative purple patch… a treat” Mojo // “uniquely intimate and very satisfying”

Vinyl Packaging: Full color jacket featuring original artwork by Callum Rooney. Can I Communicate With the Unknown? is the new album from Go By Ocean, moniker of Northern California based singer / songwriter / producer Ryan McCaffrey. Co-produced alongside Tim Bluhm (The Mother Hips) and David Glasebrook, the album features contributions from a wide cast of characters, ranging from the tight knit community of Phil Lesh’s much loved Terrapin Crossroads to the wider West Coast indie-rock scene, including members of The Mother Hips, Sugar Candy Mountain, ALO, Tea Leaf Green, and more. Building upon McCaffrey’s catalog of songs, the new album finds inspiration in the down-to-earth music of 1970’s Marin County, when songwriters like Michael Hurley and Jesse Colin Young lived out in Olema and Point Reyes, the kind of places where songs blow in on the breeze from the Pacific Ocean. Lyrically, the album traces a hero’s journey as the narrator struggles with addiction, eventually finding peace and freedom in a tumultuous world, wrestling with metaphysical and spiritual ideas along the way. Highly anticipated new album from Go By Ocean, co-produced by Tim Bluhm of The Mother Hips. Press coverage includes reviews and features in Austin Town Hall, Glide Magazine, Psychedelic Baby Magazine, and more. UK/EU Publicity handled by Chris Carr & Mal Smith. “...washed with breezy beachy vibes…” - Glide Magazine // “...marries the bright guitar arrangement of The Byrds with an updated indie appeal.” - The Wild Is Calling // “...you can almost feel the hope over the hills waiting for you with open arms.” - Austin Town Hall // “‘...satisfyingly artful and I would venture to guess you’ve never heard anything quite like it.” - Ear To the Ground Music // “We will be spinning the hell out of this record for the rest of the summer.” - Up To Hear Music // “...it’s not hard to imagine some of these songs floating in on the coastal fog, ascending ghosts indeed.” - Psychedelic Baby Magazine

In the early 1990s gangsta rap was becoming more popular. KRS-One took to the mic and continued to write socially conscious raps resulting in the hard-hitting 1992 album Sex And Violence which would be the fifth and final studio album under the Boogie Down Productions name. Produced by KRS-One, Pal Joey, Kenny Parker, D-Square, and Prince Paul, the album explores the darkest sides of the American urban landscape and psyche, with KRS as narrator, detailing all sides of the matrix. While singles like the alarming drum-driven "Duck Down" and the funky-as-hell "We In There" got most of the attention in ‘92, the deeper sequence reveals plenty of additional gems: the history lesson of the dark and dusty "Drug Dealer"; "Ruff Ruff", with scowling MC favorite Freddie Foxxx (aka Bumpy Knuckles); the grooving "Questions and Answers," and the frantic record industry track "How Not To Get Jerked." The album kicks off with an intro skit featuring KRS-One as a DJ in panic needing vinyl which at the time was a dying format while cassettes and CDs became the dominant format. Thirty-two years later vinyl DJs and Hip-Hop vinyl collectors no longer need to panic. Get On Down in partnership with Sony Music's CERTIFIED is proud to bring back to vinyl this underrated gem in the BDP catalog. Featuring one of the dopest album covers by American artist Robert Williams, Sex and Violence is pressed on colored vinyl and packaged in a gatefold jacket with full lyrics.

Two track EP from the Italian early 90's cult label, Interactive Test, helmed by legendary Falsini brothers. Both sides going generously past the 8 minute marker and well into the upper 120 BPM class of affairs, "Farf-Ability" is another show case of the experimentally excursive approach to the early Italian progressive sound, this time on behalf of Francesco Farfa. Two flavours served confidently: uplifting daytime ravey on the A side, and darker trancier night time on the B side, heavy on the percussive samples. Remastered and re-issued with new full cover artwork, featuring photographic evidence of a special moment in time for Italian rave culture.

USA Warehouse Find
These are the original copies, 50 only
Long lost slab of heavy music from Kevin Martin's and Justin Broadrick Techno Animal project that was licensed to the Beastie Boys label Grand Royal in 1997
Think Fear Of A Black Planet era Bomb Squad jamming with Adrian Sherwood.

a A1. Demonoid -[Musical Assistant] – Porter Ricks
[b] A2. Oil King - Narrator [Narration] – Dr. Theodore Parsons

[d] B2. Atomic Buddha -Guest [Musical Assistant] – Alec Empire

[a] A1. Demonoid -[Musical Assistant] – Porter Ricks
[b] A2. Oil King - Narrator [Narration] – Dr. Theodore Parsons

[d] B2. Atomic Buddha -Guest [Musical Assistant] – Alec Empire

Sleeve Records & Dig This Way teamed back to bring to light the history and the tracks of this iconic early 70' Psychedelic Afro-funk East Nigeria group.
The Hygrades's album will include all 4 rare 45"s united in a single LP with an insert of their story told by a true Uchenna narrator.

Is this the future sound of black American jazz - an inclusive yet rhythmically complex groove based music that owes as a much to black urban culture - predominantly hip hop and trap music rhythms - as it does to jazz improv techniques and rhythms? It's certainly interesting that similar elements swim through the music of Robert Glasper and Kamasi Washington, who along with Scott are currently big box office, pulling-in substantial new audiences for their music. Ruler Rebel is the first album of a trilogy celebrating 100 years of recorded jazz, and will be followed by Diaspora and Emancipation Procrastination later. At the heart of this music are polyrhythmic grooves that might come from jazz, New Orleans black Indian music, trap, Malian rhythm Kassa Soro and the interplay between an SPD drum machine and live drumming. Largely featuring Scott's trumpet, the record introduces his articulate and frequently eloquent voice as the narrator of Ruler Rebel, much like the Persian Princess Scheherazade narrating her tales of the mysterious east to Sultan Shahriar over one thousand and one nights. A key track is `Encryption', a summation of Scott's direction of travel on the album. Here the running rhythm is derived from the New Orleansian Afro-Indian culture married with Malian Kassa Soro. This is in turn is layered with SPD-SX electronic drum machine and sampling machine played by Joe Dyson and Cory Fonsville that introduce rhythmic elements from trap and hip hop. Sounds complex? Well it is, but it works. Other highlights include `New Orleansian Love Song' and `New Orleansian Love Song II' and a celebration of Afro-Indian culture on `The Coronation of K. Atunde Adjuah'.

Is this the future sound of black American jazz - an inclusive yet rhythmically complex groove based music that owes as a much to black urban culture - predominantly hip hop and trap music rhythms - as it does to jazz improv techniques and rhythms? It's certainly interesting that similar elements swim through the music of Robert Glasper and Kamasi Washington, who along with Scott are currently big box office, pulling-in substantial new audiences for their music. Ruler Rebel is the first album of a trilogy celebrating 100 years of recorded jazz, and will be followed by Diaspora and Emancipation Procrastination later. At the heart of this music are polyrhythmic grooves that might come from jazz, New Orleans black Indian music, trap, Malian rhythm Kassa Soro and the interplay between an SPD drum machine and live drumming. Largely featuring Scott's trumpet, the record introduces his articulate and frequently eloquent voice as the narrator of Ruler Rebel, much like the Persian Princess Scheherazade narrating her tales of the mysterious east to Sultan Shahriar over one thousand and one nights. A key track is `Encryption', a summation of Scott's direction of travel on the album. Here the running rhythm is derived from the New Orleansian Afro-Indian culture married with Malian Kassa Soro. This is in turn is layered with SPD-SX electronic drum machine and sampling machine played by Joe Dyson and Cory Fonsville that introduce rhythmic elements from trap and hip hop. Sounds complex? Well it is, but it works. Other highlights include `New Orleansian Love Song' and `New Orleansian Love Song II' and a celebration of Afro-Indian culture on `The Coronation of K. Atunde Adjuah'.

The title of Staś Czekalski’s debut translates as ‘Adventures’. It’s fitting for an album that invokes feelings of exploring, roaming, ambling through bustling cities and changing seasons, around castles and swaying fields, down the pixelated paths of old computer games, and all the way home.

We get the sense of being on some carefree yet critical quest, with Staś taking on the role of narrator as much as composer. Part fable, part Moomins, part seek and you shall find, these boppy, wide-eyed and reflective tracks set imagination in motion.

These are sonic adventures in a more literal sense too, at once quietly bold and intricately arranged. Bouncing around a playful gamut of references, from the whimsically lo-fi electro-acoustic pop of Anne Laplantine through trip-hoppy bedroom ambient and indietronica, Staś sets this blend twinkling with his singular form of magical thinking.

From out of nowhere - if nowhere is the febrile, warped and twilit imagination of Julia McFarlane - comes Whoopee, the second album by J.McFarlane’s Reality Guest. Whoopee is an esoteric, kaleidoscopic movie in music form directed by Julia McFarlane and co-conspirator Thomas Kernot. Full of life, breakbeats and smokey vignettes on the fragile nature of interpersonal relationships, Whoopee is a stylistic evolution from everything McFarlane has done before. Surreal, beautiful in parts and replete with the aching wisdom McFarlane’s songwriting has always promised, this Reality Guest pulls back the curtain on a whole scene of naked truth. Recorded in Melbourne in bursts since the release of 2019’s Ta Da, Whoopee features a new sound palette and band member in Kernot. The duo dive deep into electronic pop tropes, mining digital synths, samples, breakbeats and deep bass grooves, largely dispensing with live instrumentation. If Ta Da took twists and turns with your expectations, offering a Dada-ist, monochromatic take on pop music, Whoopee is McFarlane’s subterranean love-sick pinks, reds, greens, purples and blues. Becoming something of a tradition, the album starts with an instrumental intro pilfered from a 90s’ spy film or cinema intro music, puffing up the listener for the heart-squeezing bathos of Full Stops. Over a bleary backdrop of walking bass lines, jazz- inflected keys and smoked-out atmosphere, McFarlane’s poetry narrates the fragile state of a relationship: “You put a full stop where I thought there’d be a comma, I want the story to continue even with all the drama.” Over a palpable pain, the narrator is revelling in the drama of a relationship, addicted to tumult and heightened emotion. On Sensory, a space age bachelor lounge pad ballad, the converse state of the previous song is explored, here the narrator is battling the numbness of being out of the drama, stuck in a sensory-deprivation tank, anaesthesized and battling to emerge from the fog. Wrong Planet explores an otherworldly pop music, hewing a bright hook out of a sense of confusion. A bona-fide, sing-along chorus bursts out of the narrator musing on the absurdity of existing in this reality. It speaks of one of Julia McFarlane’s main talents, her knack of inspecting human relationships and states with a clear perspective, like an alien visiting Earth and realising everything we are is really, really strange. Whoopee is both more accessible than previous Reality Guest work and somehow more obfuscated. Where the production on Ta Da was dry, sharp and strange, this Reality Guest is blurred, almost smeared with the effluvium of 90s+00s culture and existence. Through it all, it’s hard to deny the undeniable pull of the songs. Precious Boy carries on the lounge theme with a whole sampler of cut up sounds fading in and out of the haze as McFarlane’s voice is right up to the speaker cooing and free- associating, maybe in love or maybe in confusion... maybe they’re the same thing? Sometimes the listener is invited to just bathe in the tone of the vocal, as on Apocalypse, where the texture and timbre of the vocal is luxurious, bathing in piano tinkles and double bass throb. On lead single Slinky, a cut up beat reminiscent of Washingtonian Go-Go drum patterns leads, the song slipping through your fingers, elusive and presenting sound as pure pleasure. Closer Caviar jumps back into the broken breakbeats of a surreal funk, fuelled by the sensory pleasure of the music, a hedonistic whirl in rapture, the narrator now living life to the fullest in all its giddy heights and deep troughs. This is the album’s main character fully-actualised and in the terrible, beautiful moment.

NYC speed rockers PONS are wound up and hot for skronk on The Liquid Self, a golden spiral into insanity at sea surfacing on cassette and streaming October 6, 2023. Besieged by a lighthouse panopticon of pummeling, engine-room percussion, The Liquid Self rises higher than the tides of destiny. These eleven songs churn like a gluttonous maelstrom consuming everything in its path. The Liquid Self chums indie rock’s murky waters with bloody chunks of Lightning Bolt, Van Halen and King Crimson to lure PONS’ mythical and unhinged rock ‘n roll creation to the surface. Harpoons in hand, the dual drums and guitar trio swing, shuffle and strut across oceanic horizons of playful, unhinged garage-prog-pop inhabited by a cast of unreliable narrators; bottom feeders carrying the entire ocean’s weight on their polyrhythms.

On the single “Coral King,” PONS usurp noise rock’s old guard while pledging fealty to the dystopia under the sea with a foamy, froth-mouthed manic industrial scuzz-prog rant seething with sludgy, dissonant bile oozing from every sour note. Furious violin-fuzz riffs and a chorus of lost souls lead the procession at this brutal coronation of the damned.

“Sinking Feeling” hangs ten with bright and beachy major chords anchored by fleet-flippered guitar solos breaching the surf like suppertime at SeaWorld. Chaos reigns on “Queen Conch,” soaking the splash zone with misty waves of undulating percussion and tsunami force sheets of six-string shredding. Barbed post-punk rager “Hooks” swallows the bait whole—and it turns out PONS fish with dynamite.

Kali Malone's anticipated new album "All Life Long" is a collection of music for pipe organ, choir, and brass quintet composed by Kali Malone, 2020 - 2023. Choral music performed by Macadam Ensemble and conducted by Etienne Ferschaud at Chapelle Notre-Dame-de-L'Immaculée-Conception in Nantes. Brass quintet music performed by Anima Brass at The Bunker Studio in New York City. Organ music performed by Kali Malone and Stephen O'Malley on the historical meantone tempered pipe organs at Église Saint-François in Lausanne, Orgelpark in Amsterdam, and Malmö Konstmuseum in Sweden. Kali Malone composes with a rare clarity of vision. Her music is patient and focused, built on a foundation of evolving harmonic cycles that draw out latent emotional resonances. Time is a crucial factor: letting go of expectations of duration and breadth offers a chance to find a space of reflection and contemplation. In her hands, experimental reinterpretations of centuries-old polyphonic compositional methods become portals to new ways of perceiving sound, structure, and introspection. Though awe-inspiring in scope, the most remarkable thing about Malone's music is the intimacy stirred by the close listening it encourages. Malone's new album All Life Long, created between 2020 - 2023, presents her first compositions for organ since 2019's breakthrough album The Sacrificial Code alongside interrelated pieces for voice and brass performed by Macadam Ensemble and Anima Brass. Over the course of twelve pieces, harmonic themes and patterns recur, presented in altered forms and for varied instrumentation. They emerge and reemerge like echoes of their former selves, making the familiar uncanny. Propelled by lungs and breath rather than bellows and oscillators, Malone's compositions for choir and brass take on expressive qualities that complicate the austerity that has defined her work, introducing lyricism and the beauty of human fallibility into music that has been driven by mechanical processes. At the same time, the works for organ, performed by Malone with additional accompaniment by Stephen O'Malley on four different organs dating from the 15th to 17th centuries, underscore the mighty, spectral power that those rigorous operations can achieve. All Life Long simmers in an ever-shifting tension between repetition and variation. The pieces for brass, organ, and voice are alternated asymmetrically, providing nearly continuous timbral fluctuation across its 78-minute runtime even as thematic material reiterates. Each composition's internal framework of fractal pattern permutations has the paradoxical effect of creating anticipated keystone moments of dramatic reverie and lulling the listener into believing in an illusory endlessness. On an even more granular level, the historical meantone tuning systems of each organ used, and the variable intonation of brass and voice, provide further points of emotional excavation within the harmony. The titular composition "All Life Long" appears twice on the album, first as an extended canon for organ and again in the final quarter, compactly arranged for voice In the latter, Malone pairs the music with "The Crying Water" by Arthur Symons, a poem steeped in language of mourning and eternity. For organ, "All Life Long" moves with a patient stateliness, the drama concentrated in moments when shifting tonalities generate and release dissonance and ecstasy. For voice, each word is saturated with feeling, the singers swooping gracefully downward to capture the melancholy of the narrator's relationship to the timeless tears of the sea. "Passage Through The Spheres," the album's opening piece, contains lyrics in Italian pulled from Giorgio Agamban's essay In Praise of Profanation. In it, Agamban defines profanation as, in part, the act of bringing back to communal, secular use that which has been segregated to the realm of the sacred, a process Malone enacts each time she performs on church organs. This is not music of praise, or of spiritual revelation, but it is an artistic enactment of translating the indescribable. It carries the gravity of liturgical chant, and its fixation on the infinite, but draws its weight from the earthly realm of human experience. A music that draws the listener into the present moment where they can discover themselves within the interwoven musical patterns that can come to resemble the passage of days, weeks, years, a lifetime.

“I hope you die by my side, the two of us at the exact same time, I hope we die not long from now, the two of us at the exact same time”
By the time Molly Nilsson released History, she had already established a fledgling cult status built on homemade YouTube videos and home-burnt Cdrs. Writing from a distance, it’s clear that History is the first classic album in her canon and arguably a classic of the 21st Century underground music panorama.While the methodology on History hadn’t changed from Nilsson’s previous 3 albums – it was recorded solo at The Lighthouse, Nilsson’s home studio based on a Berlin crossroads – on this record the songwriting reached a new peak and the emotional scythe cut deeper. Here, Nilsson managed to combine a cosmic, outward looking perspective with an intimate knowledge of the human condition and its place in these turbulent times. In truth, no other songwriter has excavated the modern psyche so clearly and perfectly.
The tracklist to Nilsson’s fourth album reads as an early greatest hits for Molly Nilsson followers and also serves as the perfect entry point to a whole world the artist has been building for the last 10 years. In Real Life crystalises the millenial obsession with relationships built online, with a generation paying for the baby boomer’s excesses with their anxiety towards the harshness of every day life. It’s a call to arms for a generation who fell in love on Skype. On I Hope You Die, one of Molly Nilsson’s most iconic songs, the songwriter flips the song title into a tale of doomed romance, a relationship based on discommunications and the thrill of the other. It’s also one of the most heartfelt songs full of pathos written by anyone, an ode to obsession. Doomed romance, life lived on the flipside of day and the role of the outsider in society are themes that crop up through-out History. On
Bottles Of Tomorrow, the narrator is sweeping up, in love with the night and examining the remains a society leaves behind.
On City Of Atlantis, Nilsson veers from the plaintive balladry she had begun to make her name with, embracing trance-like synth and dance music details to create an unlikely anthem using the mythological city as a means to comment on the patriarchal rendering of history by power. With by now trademark panache, she turns complicated subject matter into a glorious song that transforms into an ecstatic pop moment.
Hotel Home, another Nilsson classic, paints loneliness not as a debilitating anxiety, but as a powerful to that propels the artist forward through her travels. It’s a song that hints at an endearing self-awareness also; the writer is never at home, living life on the road, content that “the world will find me when the time is ripe.”
There’s never been a greater time.

Prisoners Of Love And Hate' is an offering to community, to desires that imprison and liberate, to people in all their divinity and ugliness. Apostille - aka Night School Records’ captain Michael Kasparis - presents is third album with a bang, a bursting ball of NRG, empathy and bristling living.
Like its predecessor 'Choose Life', 'Prisoners…' was recorded at Full Ashram Celestial Garden in Glasgow with Lewis Cook (Free Love) through 2022. A nine song treatise on pop music, trauma, ecstasy and the mundanities between the extremes, Kasparis takes on classic 80s synth pop, 90s house music, 00s trance, wistful balladry, 70s power pop. The thread that runs through the album is a boundless energy, an openness to the moment, to living
the pains and joys equally, open armed.

This is a place of no judgement, of possibility, challenge and comfort. The nine songs on 'Prisoners…' can be read as separate ruminations on the feelings and desires that imprison our experience. Through it all the narrator struggles against them, transported and fooled by love and longing, peering through the bars of anguish, flailing in a cell of emotions. 'Saturday Night, Still Breathing' breaks the album open with an invigorating scream and pounds into the night with a nod to Whigfield, Kasparis’ punk roots and house music. Over a thumping 909 kick and bassline, Kasparis pens a love letter to being with people, the collective energy of hearts in a room, thrumming together, making it through together. Written as private ritual magic, manifesting community during a time of isolation, it’s as if the party is the most important thing in the world. 'Rely On Me' imagines 80s Mute synth pop, Erasure fronted by Bruce Springsteen, romance doomed and forever perfect in the mind. 'Spit Pit' completes the opening triptych of fast paced rollercoasters, an ode to childhood forged out of change and discomfort told with a bold, epic production by Lewis Cook, AFX breakbeats, 160BPM kicks and a commanding vocal performance.

On 'People Make This City', Kasparis eases off the gas, lets the mist blowing in from the Clyde River blow over his version of Glasgow. A wistful ballad about small town gossip and coming through anger to leaving it all behind, it provides some shadow to the bright light of the vibrancy of the album. 'Natural Angel' owes much to 70s and 80s power pop, guitar melodrama, Thin Lizzy and Rick Springfield through the prism of co-dependence in relationships. It’s a theme that’s picked up in slow burner 'Nothing But Perfect', a hazy synth soul-inflected song about building your own mythology, constructing a dream to hide in, to hold on to. The most surprising track of the album, 'Summer of ’03' re-imagines the trance music of early noughties Europe into a lament for an eternal summer or as a fan once put it, “Meat Loaf with a donk on it.” A recognition that all ecstasy has tragedy laced within it, it’s a theme that is sewn throughout the LP and continued on the final song 'Feel Good (You Can Make Me)'. Referencing Shalamar’s 1982 mega hit by way of N-Trance’s piano riffs, the epic closer is riddled with heartbreak, vulnerability and power. It’s a testament to the new confidence in Kasparis’s songwriting, sure, but also to the enduring power of people to come together in mutual dependence and love. If ecstasy is always laced with tragedy, then 'Prisoners of Love and Hate' can always reach out between the bars to meet in the middle, the eternal now.

country songwriter from Brooklyn's indie underground, Dougie Poole blurs the lines between genre and generation on his third solo album, The Rainbow Wheel of Death. Rooted in sharp songwritingvand the organic sounds of a live-in-the-studio band, it's a classic-sounding record for the modern world. The Rainbow Wheel of Death's title nods to the colorful pinwheel that appears onscreen whenever a computer's application stalls. For Poole _ who found himself working as a freelance computer programmer once the pandemic brought his touring schedule to a temporary halt in 2020 _ it's also a reference to the holding pattern that's left much of society feeling stuck, unable to move ahead in an uncertain world. That feeling was pervasive when he in his New York City bedroom and wrapping up the songwriting process in the recording studio itself. Once hailed as the "patron saint of millennial malaise" for his sardonic wit and topical, tongue-in-cheek songwriting, Poole broadens his reach here. "High School Gym" builds a bridge between 2020s lo-fi textures and 1980s pop vibes, while "Must Be In Here Somewhere" _ whose narrator sits at a lap top, searching through "every server burning in North Carolina" for a digital souvenir of a long-lost relationship _ mixes modern concerns with classic country instrumentation. If records like 2017's Wideass Highway and 2020's breakthrough release The Freelancer's Blues told stories about uninspired Millennials languishing in dead-end jobs and no-good relationships, then The Rainbow Wheel of Death focuses on more universal issues like mortality, love, and the passing of the time. With The Rainbow Wheel of Death, Dougie Poole breathes new life into country music, retaining the acclaimed elements of his previous work _ drum machines, synthesizers, and his deep-set voice _ while pushing toward something warm, organic, and prismatic.

country songwriter from Brooklyn's indie underground, Dougie Poole blurs the lines between genre and generation on his third solo album, The Rainbow Wheel of Death. Rooted in sharp songwritingvand the organic sounds of a live-in-the-studio band, it's a classic-sounding record for the modern world. The Rainbow Wheel of Death's title nods to the colorful pinwheel that appears onscreen whenever a computer's application stalls. For Poole _ who found himself working as a freelance computer programmer once the pandemic brought his touring schedule to a temporary halt in 2020 _ it's also a reference to the holding pattern that's left much of society feeling stuck, unable to move ahead in an uncertain world. That feeling was pervasive when he in his New York City bedroom and wrapping up the songwriting process in the recording studio itself. Once hailed as the "patron saint of millennial malaise" for his sardonic wit and topical, tongue-in-cheek songwriting, Poole broadens his reach here. "High School Gym" builds a bridge between 2020s lo-fi textures and 1980s pop vibes, while "Must Be In Here Somewhere" _ whose narrator sits at a lap top, searching through "every server burning in North Carolina" for a digital souvenir of a long-lost relationship _ mixes modern concerns with classic country instrumentation. If records like 2017's Wideass Highway and 2020's breakthrough release The Freelancer's Blues told stories about uninspired Millennials languishing in dead-end jobs and no-good relationships, then The Rainbow Wheel of Death focuses on more universal issues like mortality, love, and the passing of the time. With The Rainbow Wheel of Death, Dougie Poole breathes new life into country music, retaining the acclaimed elements of his previous work _ drum machines, synthesizers, and his deep-set voice _ while pushing toward something warm, organic, and prismatic.

In 1995 the self-titled full-length debut of Die Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung (DAAU) was released. The band consisted of four young, 'classically derailed' musicians who played their own compositions with acoustic instruments such as violin, cello, clarinet and accordion. Their work contained influences from Roma music, Eastern European folk, klezmer and jazz, but was performed with the energy, rebellious spirit and Sturm und Drang of a bona fide punk band. DAAU was part of the fertile Antwerp scene, which also produced dEUS, Zita Swoon and Kiss My Jazz, and soon signed an international record deal with Sony Classical.

The group's influential first record, which has been out of print for a while, is now finally being released again and is available on vinyl for the very first time.

In those early days, DAAU consisted of four young, classically trained musicians who tackled their instrumental compositions with a true punk spirit. 'If we'd had guitars, bass or drums at that time, we would probably have been just another rock band', says accordionist Roel Van Camp, who, together with his schoolmates Buni Lenski on violin, the latter's brother Simon on cello and Han Stubbe on clarinet made up the Antwerp quartet. 'With our acoustic instruments we tried to create our own version of the music we loved listening to, from sixties rock and prog to new wave.'

The quartet, which initially played in streets and cafes, appealed to a diverse audience and sometimes joked that they were a classically trained unit that had 'gone off the rails'. 'As befits teenagers, we wanted to shake things up', Stubbe remembers, 'even though we always kept cherishing our classical backgrounds.' Van Camp: 'Our education was never supposed to feel like a straitjacket. We were free-spirited enough to ignore the laws and regulations of the music academy and to create our own sound. Our compositions were open to influences from Roma music, Eastern European folk, klezmer and jazz'. 'That eclecticism was a direct result of the zeitgeist', Han Stubbe adds. 'We loved different styles and happily mixed them together'.

The monniker Die Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung was derived from Steppenwolf, a novel by German writer Hermann Hesse about a character who was outside society. 'In the book, the narrator talks of a theatre', Van Camp explains. 'And at the entrance there is a warning sign sign that says: if you go in here, you are guaranteed to lose your mind. That was an apt description of the way our music worked'.

Almost all tracks on DAAU's first album were 'Drieslagstelsels' (or 'three-course rotations'). The term referred to an agricultural method of the early Middle Ages, but also to the fact that each song of the group consisted of three major movements. Van Camp: 'The titles of those pieces referred to our method of writing. We piled up a huge bunch of ideas, because we wanted to tell more than just one story. With each composition, we took the listener for a ride'.

In 1995 the self-titled full-length debut of Die Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung (DAAU) was released. The band consisted of four young, 'classically derailed' musicians who played their own compositions with acoustic instruments such as violin, cello, clarinet and accordion. Their work contained influences from Roma music, Eastern European folk, klezmer and jazz, but was performed with the energy, rebellious spirit and Sturm und Drang of a bona fide punk band. DAAU was part of the fertile Antwerp scene, which also produced dEUS, Zita Swoon and Kiss My Jazz, and soon signed an international record deal with Sony Classical.

The group's influential first record, which has been out of print for a while, is now finally being released again and is available on vinyl for the very first time.

In those early days, DAAU consisted of four young, classically trained musicians who tackled their instrumental compositions with a true punk spirit. 'If we'd had guitars, bass or drums at that time, we would probably have been just another rock band', says accordionist Roel Van Camp, who, together with his schoolmates Buni Lenski on violin, the latter's brother Simon on cello and Han Stubbe on clarinet made up the Antwerp quartet. 'With our acoustic instruments we tried to create our own version of the music we loved listening to, from sixties rock and prog to new wave.'

The quartet, which initially played in streets and cafes, appealed to a diverse audience and sometimes joked that they were a classically trained unit that had 'gone off the rails'. 'As befits teenagers, we wanted to shake things up', Stubbe remembers, 'even though we always kept cherishing our classical backgrounds.' Van Camp: 'Our education was never supposed to feel like a straitjacket. We were free-spirited enough to ignore the laws and regulations of the music academy and to create our own sound. Our compositions were open to influences from Roma music, Eastern European folk, klezmer and jazz'. 'That eclecticism was a direct result of the zeitgeist', Han Stubbe adds. 'We loved different styles and happily mixed them together'.

The monniker Die Anarchistische Abendunterhaltung was derived from Steppenwolf, a novel by German writer Hermann Hesse about a character who was outside society. 'In the book, the narrator talks of a theatre', Van Camp explains. 'And at the entrance there is a warning sign sign that says: if you go in here, you are guaranteed to lose your mind. That was an apt description of the way our music worked'.

Almost all tracks on DAAU's first album were 'Drieslagstelsels' (or 'three-course rotations'). The term referred to an agricultural method of the early Middle Ages, but also to the fact that each song of the group consisted of three major movements. Van Camp: 'The titles of those pieces referred to our method of writing. We piled up a huge bunch of ideas, because we wanted to tell more than just one story. With each composition, we took the listener for a ride'.

The album features 15 tracks, showcasing Bastien’s truly cinematic sound while exploring new sonic territories. The album touches on the melancholic funk drifting between voiceovers of longing and hurt, through surreal, hallucinogenic folk ballads. It’s the juxtaposition of these genres sewn together with ambient synth skits that really makes the album a musical journey. Playful and serious, as the album title suggests, Bastien manages to induce a rye smile with a tear in the eye.


In Seb’s words, “The album tells the story of a failed relationship, as the man narrators missing his other. Whilst he imagines her comforting him, before accepting the end of the relationship, and feeling that the love he feels, she never did.”

Sharing common ground with luminaries such as David Axlerod, Kate Bush, Roy Orbison, Madlib and The Delfonics; Keb plays guitar, trumpet, bass, drums, piano, flute and more Keb’s writing and recording approach is slightly unique. He explains a little about how his records sound the way they do...

“I have a lo-fi approach to recording, for me it’s about the moment, all my records are time capsules of a certain time in my life, so the sound of the recording is secondary. It’s all about heart, that’s all I’m interested in. If I get a melody I have to record it asap, if the mic isn’t plugged in I use the macbook mic, if I’m not by the computer I’ll record into my phone.

For me personally using/sampling other peoples music isn’t making your own music, using your own soul, showing your own heart, it's just my personal opinion. It’s not right for me. No slur on those that do. If there are any samples on my records, it’s me sampling me. For me, this means the music is mine. It’s ‘of me’. That’s really important for me, because I feel that’s where the honesty is. If my music sounds ‘dusty’, that’s why”.

This approach provides us with a wonderfully inclusive record. The album feels almost ‘performed’ to us, live, on each listen. Coupled with Bastien’s capacity to write music which is almost visual, the album is quite enveloping.

Bastien returns to Def Pressé with this new album after the brilliant, Holy Mountain. Released under the name Grandamme, with friend and collaborator Claudia Kane.

For over two decades Jonathan Katsav has used his Crave project to fray rap at its fringes, using Memphis and Houston's low-and-slow legacy to inform sounds that have as much in common with Merzbow as they do Tommy Wright III. Working under a variety of different monikers such as Lieu Noir, Sniper Bait and Soul Collector, the French producer is most prolific as Crave, and "Inner War Delirium" is a substantial and broadly cinematic addition to his canon. Katsav approaches each track as if it's a scene from a movie, using real life experiences to explore separate characters and contrasting emotions. Using different narrators and disparate vocal styles, he navigates grim, blown-out landscapes, driving neon drenched trap synths and horror choirs against overdriven kicks and waterlogged industrial atmospheres. Mangled field recordings, squealing static and gurgling synthesized bass opens 'PHYLLIS', goading the cautious with serrated, carnival synths and cacophonous vocals that sway lugubriously between rap and grindcore. The relationship between dark and light, death and rebirth, is at the heart of "Inner War Delirium", rippling through every track's oozing amalgamation of inebriated hip-hop and buzzsaw noise. Katsav's sounds are an attempt to subject us to the physicality of his own life's puzzle, and he cuts them into vignettes like a director. On the album's final track, listeners are swiped from in front of the speakers and bundled into the trunk of a car, rain rattling on the metal and the album playing on in the distance. It's a way for the producer to turn the camera back on the audience and ask them to consider their own complicated reality - it's Crave's story, but everyone's a part of it.

“Orlando Furioso is a haunting, one-of-a-kind statement, from an important new voice in improvised music.” - Steve Lehman

“…imagining instruments that haven’t been invented yet: space harps, cosmic gamelan, Venusian banjo. It’s the purest distillation of Atria’s musical language, simultaneously grounded and unearthly.” - Stewart Smith for The Wire (November 2022)

“Making liberal use of microtonal harmony and hypnotic, ostinato rhythms – as well as the occasional stylistic smash-cut, reminiscent of John Zorn – Orlando Furioso announced itself on Wednesday as a punchy, creative force on the New York scene. (…) Atria’s rhythms had a welcoming, social propulsion, and the microtonality of his writing for keyboard proposed an individual – even insular – language.” - Seth Colter Walls for The New York Times.

Early European composers felt that their work reflected in its structure the divine nature of the material world. Via tuning, form, and contrapuntal alchemy, these musicians sought to illuminate and edify the complex and perfect order of existence. The music recorded here also reflects the contours of an ordered world, but it is no place any of us has ever visited. By assembling far-flung building blocks from the detritus of a 21st-century musical vocabulary, Orlando Furioso brings the listener into a bizarre new cosmos. The result is deeply expressive music that speaks not with the voice of a narrator or memoirist, but with that of a cartographer.

Like a science-fiction Dante, the listener is taken on a tour of many diverse and colorful provinces of an alien world. Though each composition references its own set of real-world musical locales (from the Andes to Indonesia to Italy to New Orleans), they are bound by stylistic consistency into a coherent, continuous geography. Permeating this world is an uncompromising commitment to microtonal harmony, rhythmic intensity, and an ability to deploy the esoteric (Nicola Vicentino's notorious 31-tone temperament) and the head-smackingly obvious (a surprise djent breakdown) with equal conviction. Though Vicente's compositions are steering the ship, serious recognition is due to all the players on the record for their ability to meet these demands.

Our omnivorous musical diets offer real abundance. They enrich our craft by providing access to limitless approaches from which to choose - more masters to study, traditions to absorb, and techniques to hone than is possible in multiple lifetimes. They can also inflict heavy and often contradictory burdens of influence. When every corner of the map has been charted, it becomes difficult to find a new direction in which to travel. One solution I hope to see more often is the one pursued on this record: breaking down distinct musical worlds into component parts and reassembling them into a language. When completed with precision and with no stone left unturned, the seams between the pieces vanish and the listener is deposited somewhere beautiful and strange, left to assign their sensations meanings of their own. - Mat Muntz

Orlando Furioso is led by Vicente and features David Acevedo, David Leon, Andrew Boudreau, Alec Goldfarb, Daniel Hass, Simón Willson, and Niña Tormenta. Orlando Furioso celebrated its release at Roulette Intermedium in Brooklyn, NY, as a part of Wet Ink Ensemble's 24th Season opening concert, a performance which The New York Times heralded as "virtuosic", "punchy, creative" and "even revelatory."

Winner of the Deutscher Jazz Preis: Best International Debut Album 2023

András Cséfalvay makes simple music with a potent atmosphere. A well-known figure in the Slovak underground (artistic, literary and music) scene, he returns after years of silence with a collection of intense songs. It's music which tackles both fantasy concepts and environmental trauma; Cséfalvay, armed only with the voice of a bard and his own hand-made guitar, will kindle your imagination and take you to the most unexpected corners of your mind.

More than a singer, on 'Future Role of the Church in the Forthcoming Enviromental Transformation' Cséfalvay acts like a narrator, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He sings of his hate of percussion instruments, Jupiter and other planets, tells tales of guns and love, nature and Mithrandir. His unique style is completely absorbing, despite the minimal, traditional set-up known from his live performances. Existential, yet light, these twelve songs mark a welcome return of a fascinating artist who presents his own vision of the past, present and future – it's bleak and existential, but also filled with purity and honesty that's impossible to resist.

'Future Role of the Church in the Forthcoming Environmental Transformation' is András Cséfalvay's second album, and his first for the sincere label Weltschmerzen.credits

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic travelling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviours are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behaviour has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behaviour and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

Western Massachusetts band Landowner play abrasively clean minimalist-punk. Singer Dan Shaw began Landowner in 2016, writing and recording Impressive Almanac with a practice amp and a laptop drum machine. Those available tools would inform the band’s unapologetic sound—clean, confrontational, and absurdly stark. With a stated goal to sound like “Antelope playing Discharge”, Landowner’s diamond hard structures, repetitious instrumentals and caricatured hardcore make space for lyrics that reflect on the global systems our lives are tangled in and the dark absurdities we take for granted.

Landowner’s fourth Born Yesterday full length Escape the Compound focuses on the powerful grips manipulators and reality-deniers have on their victims, examining the social, political and interpersonal damage of cult-like influence and control. “A lot of the lyrics focus on cult manipulators and narcissists: falling victim to their toxic dynamics, and the difficulty of escaping their grip” says Shaw. From climate change deniers and conspiracy theorists to deceptive narcissists and actual cult leaders, Landowner explores the ubiquity of modern unreality through evocative imagery and a keen sense of awareness. The band’s plain instrumentation sheds and subverts hardcore punk’s noisy veil in favor of a direct, unswerving examination of these themes.

Written and recorded following the release of 2020’s Consultant, Escape the Compound finds Landowner leaning into the studio through deeper experimentation with a wider palette of sounds. The group’s lineup of Josh Owsley (bass), Elliot Hughes (guitar), Jeff Gilmartin (guitar), Josh Daniel (drums) and Dan Shaw played often since coming together in 2017. But with pandemic restrictions in place, the making of Escape the Compound became a much more insular pursuit, one where the mixing and mastering process helped turn the band’s most varied batch of material into a cohesive, thematic collection of songs.

Album opener “Witch Museum” is a collage of dark Massachusetts historical imagery. The song evokes a kind of cult dynamic traveling like a shadow through time, where dark absurdities are taken for granted, toxic behaviors are excused, and normalcy begins to shift. The line “Gail's behavior has changed” casts fictional “Gail” as the dark manipulator, whose whim we’re at the mercy of. She sheds her toxic behavior and the crisis finally ends - “and peace returns to the Commonwealth”- an absurdity, given that cult leaders and narcissists rarely seem to change.

By considering the past, Landowner sheds light on the present. The band challenges egomaniacs reluctant to accept an uncomfortable reality with both cynicism and concern. The literal landowner described in “Heat Stroke” collapses in exhaustion, cooked by a suffocating bass line and sizzling hi-hats. “You'd rather die of heat stroke than to let anybody see you change your mind,” Shaw gasps, later pleading with the character in “Floodwatch” to “please reconsider” their brazen stubbornness as they plunge through the rising waters of a flooded road.

The character in “Swimmer of Note” refuses to admit their miscalculations, instead doubling down on an ever-growing and increasingly-unsteady tower of lies. The sneering “Damning Evidence” sets a scene all too familiar: a smoking gun scenario with zero consequences. Shaw’s exaggerated vocal refrains and sarcastic inflections mock false hope: “how will they be expected to keep their minds intact, at the shock of simply hearing such damning evidence?”

“Beyond the Darkened Library” creaks open a secret passageway into a dimly lit, endless labyrinth of conspiracy theories, in which the character becomes hopelessly lost. “Aftermath” sounds the alarms: “stare so long that you start getting used to it; one glance says you should never get used to it.” The pair of “Tactics” tracks express what Shaw calls “an interpersonal microcosm of the album’s themes.”

Perhaps the most ambitious arc on Escape the Compound loosely begins with the title track. The subject in “Escape the Compound” gradually recognizes their own victimhood and plans a calculated flight from the “captivating shepherd” – hop the fence, flee, and regain autonomy. As the narrator escapes their stifling and abusive cult microcosm, a much grander existential timeline begins to appear. “Thousands of Years in Fast Forward” narrates a psychedelic surrender to the shared human experience through space and time, an ego-death adjacent to our ancestry, our own existence, and the before and after. “At the site of the crater, molecular hands unclasp molecular hands as you lose conditioning,” Shaw sings on the title track, “Your grandmother's garden. Your grandmother's kitchen. Your grandmother's primordial ocean.” It’s a profound actualizing glimpse into a true, forgotten reality and a startling reconnection with the self.

Psych-rap enigma Onoe Caponoe returns with his fifth studio album ‘Concrete Fantasia’ on High Focus Records. In crystal clear communication with the mothership; littered with striking references to fantastical realms and uncommon lore, but very much anchored in the inner city blocks and smoggy roadsides that inform his everyday, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is a dark fantasy tape that expertly blurs the lines between genres, tones, moods and character profiles.

Of this world and out-of-this-world perfectly poised; Onoe offering up escape portals, before quickly pulling the listener back in with wave-upon-wave of catdelix riptides. ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is something of a tug-of-war; peppering movie samples, vignettes and complex go-betweens tickling the senses, combining with a cacophony of mind-bending lyricism resulting in a singular journey, with Onoe confidently filling the shoes of both author and narrator.

Pinocchio ducking feds in the hood, an Ice King ruling over a frostbitten kingdom, The Cheshire Cat trying to clean up Alice’s act, sweet serenades to off-shore mermaids, the trials and tribulations of life in a haunted trap house, big booty witches, flying carpets and beyond, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is a real trip through the imaginative mind of Onoe Caponoe. With an eclectic line-up of featured artists and productional talent propping up the fictional cast, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ has all the makings of an alt-rap odyssey for the ages.

Psych-rap enigma Onoe Caponoe returns with his fifth studio album ‘Concrete Fantasia’ on High Focus Records. In crystal clear communication with the mothership; littered with striking references to fantastical realms and uncommon lore, but very much anchored in the inner city blocks and smoggy roadsides that inform his everyday, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is a dark fantasy tape that expertly blurs the lines between genres, tones, moods and character profiles.

Of this world and out-of-this-world perfectly poised; Onoe offering up escape portals, before quickly pulling the listener back in with wave-upon-wave of catdelix riptides. ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is something of a tug-of-war; peppering movie samples, vignettes and complex go-betweens tickling the senses, combining with a cacophony of mind-bending lyricism resulting in a singular journey, with Onoe confidently filling the shoes of both author and narrator.

Pinocchio ducking feds in the hood, an Ice King ruling over a frostbitten kingdom, The Cheshire Cat trying to clean up Alice’s act, sweet serenades to off-shore mermaids, the trials and tribulations of life in a haunted trap house, big booty witches, flying carpets and beyond, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is a real trip through the imaginative mind of Onoe Caponoe. With an eclectic line-up of featured artists and productional talent propping up the fictional cast, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ has all the makings of an alt-rap odyssey for the ages.

Psych-rap enigma Onoe Caponoe returns with his fifth studio album ‘Concrete Fantasia’ on High Focus Records. In crystal clear communication with the mothership; littered with striking references to fantastical realms and uncommon lore, but very much anchored in the inner city blocks and smoggy roadsides that inform his everyday, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is a dark fantasy tape that expertly blurs the lines between genres, tones, moods and character profiles.

Of this world and out-of-this-world perfectly poised; Onoe offering up escape portals, before quickly pulling the listener back in with wave-upon-wave of catdelix riptides. ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is something of a tug-of-war; peppering movie samples, vignettes and complex go-betweens tickling the senses, combining with a cacophony of mind-bending lyricism resulting in a singular journey, with Onoe confidently filling the shoes of both author and narrator.

Pinocchio ducking feds in the hood, an Ice King ruling over a frostbitten kingdom, The Cheshire Cat trying to clean up Alice’s act, sweet serenades to off-shore mermaids, the trials and tribulations of life in a haunted trap house, big booty witches, flying carpets and beyond, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ is a real trip through the imaginative mind of Onoe Caponoe. With an eclectic line-up of featured artists and productional talent propping up the fictional cast, ‘Concrete Fantasia’ has all the makings of an alt-rap odyssey for the ages.

"Manchester band The Lottery Winners have announced their forthcoming new album ‘Anxiety Replacement Therapy’, out on 28th April on Modern Sky Recordings, which will feature collaborations with Boy George, Frank Turner, and Shaun Ryder.
A mammoth step forward, ‘Anxiety Replacement Therapy’ is on one level a set of 10 absolute anthems (and three interludes from a mystery narrator). These are mass singalongs in waiting from a band who’ve specialised in bringing people together over their previous two albums. "

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

Angelo is an EP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist and singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy's father and both of Stuart's parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo's sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, "to get us out of our grief and into our bodies," says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal _ a resourceful, collective answer to "what happens now?". Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. "Such a bro-y, `80s dude car, it's been super fun to drive around in a new town," Murphy says. "He's older than us, he's a classic, he's got a story." It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, "Which Way To The Club." The question is quickly resolved by "Take A Trip" as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip - the kind of imagined space or chamber within one's self capable of "shifting a fraction of who you are," says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be "as free as we could be," adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: "What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room." Next is "Shy Guy," a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: "We are in junior high, we're on the dance floor, what's going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?" The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. "Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too," Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one - something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, "It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission." "Angelo" and "Ooo La La" deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean's catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo's dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude "Colors" drifting into "Where Do We Go?", a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space. It all culminates in "Caldwell's Way," a fond farewell to their Bay Area community - "a part of my life that I knew couldn't come back," says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There's the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: "I'd rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars." And the song's namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. "I'm only miles away, maybe I'm just feeling lonely," the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and "Nostalgia" runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

- 180 GRAM AUDI OPHILE VINYL
- GATEFOLD SLEEVE
- PVC PROTECTIVE SLEEVE
- INCLUDES 2 PRINTED INNER SLEEVES WITH LYRICS AND PICTURES

The Soldier's Tale is a theatrical work 'to be read, played, and danced' by three actors (the soldier, the devil, and a narrator) and dancers, accompanied by a septet of instruments. The libretto relates the parable of a soldier who trades his fiddle to the devil in return for unlimited economic gain. The music is scored for a septet of violin, double bass, clarinet, bassoon, cornet or trumpet), trombone, and percussion. The libretto is adapted by Roger Waters from the translation by Michael Flanders and Kitty Black, based on the original text by Charles-Ferdinand Ramus.

As the work opens, Joseph, a Russian soldier, marches toward his hometown on leave, pack in tow. ('Marche du soldat'/'The Soldier's March') He rests by a stream and rummages through his pack. First he takes out his lucky St. Joseph medallion, then a mirror, then a photograph of his girlfriend. Finally, he finds what he was searching for: his fiddle. He begins to play. ('Petit airs au bord du ruisseau'/'Airs by a Stream') The devil appears disguised as an old man carrying a butterfly net, but Joseph does not notice him and continues to play. The devil sneaks up on Joseph from behind and startles him.

The Soldier's Tale package includes 2 printed inner sleeves with lyrics and pictures.

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Dark Green Vinyl

American singer-songwriter, poet, and photographer Thomas Meluch, known musically as Benoît Pioulard, returns with his most structured and vocal release to date. Titled »Eidetic,« a word denoting the ability to recall mental images with extraordinarily rich precision, the album presents unprecedented clarity and vitality for Benoît Pioulard. To access its thematic ground, Meluch looked inward with an affinity towards the people he loves during a period marked by his move from Seattle to Brooklyn in 2019. The resulting work engages with the universe's unflinching mortality and, as he says, »the ways it has modified and improved my relationships, especially with family.« Embodied by the creek, leaves, and ferns of the cover photography — taken in Michigan’s Burchfield Park, where he and his dad used to hike and »muse on existence« — the music glistens and unfurls with the flow of life he’s come to know. »Eidetic« is the culmination of Meluch's craft both as a producer and writer. An evocative sonic vocabulary meets deft lyrical introspection, articulated with the nuance, vulnerability, and confidence of a longtime artist hitting a stride.

Meluch has continually refined, redefined, and adjusted the focus of his gentle pop project over the last 20 years. Recorded primarily with guitar, tapes, and voice — and spanning labels with albums for Kranky, Morr Music, Beacon Sound, and Past Inside the Present — his catalog flows seamlessly between ambient improvisation and pop composition. Much like the analog photos that often accompany his releases, songs can feel dreamily softened and distant, and others beautifully vivid and detailed. 2021 full-length »Bloodless« found Meluch deep in droning decay, expressive yet wordless. With »Eidetic,« he swings back to sharpened forms. Lush banks of treated guitar and synth brush against hushed percussion; there is mist in the distance, but everything up close is intricately constructed and radiant. Meluch's voice is notably forward in the mix — a warm and calming tenor, a harmonic coo more than a whisper — ever-observant and actively processing.

To record much of the album, Meluch filled a cabin in rural Maine with his usual setup of simple percussion, a couple of Fender electrics, and a parlor guitar made by his friend who does bespoke luthier work. The modest utility is what he knows best, and here he pushes the output to its most pristine potential.

»Eidetic« opens in a swirl of familiar haze; »Margaret Murie« eases listeners in, as lush and verdant as the landscapes conserved by its famed namesake. With the setting established, Meluch, the narrator, enters the foreground with »Crux,« a tender piece written about finding new motivations in a new city. »We covet this rare green hue / Here at the farthest point from home,« he sings above a reassuring pattern of strums and percussion. Meluch's prose shines on the swiftly-moving »Nameless,« inspired by the neurological effects that came with the antiquated practice of manufacturing mercury mirrors; »folks would slowly go insane while looking into their own reflections every day,« he adds. The idea informs a series of surreal abstractions before everything drops out in the final minute, and we are left free-floating in eerie nothingness.

Across the album, labyrinthine lyrical ponderings scatter with dazzling imagery, artfully blurring scenes from world history with Meluch's more personal, present-day. The propulsive and earnest »Thursday Night« catches his mind overly active and too stoned, riffing on black holes and songwriting itself. »Halve« references the splitting of the atom, what he considers »the beginning of man's downfall,« and the unrealized initiative proposed by the US government that would have created 'nuclear refuges' in its national parks. Meluch's loved ones weave throughout; »Tet« holds his father's experience in Vietnam and its lasting effects. »Lillian Isola« touches on his maternal grandmother's spinal curvature, and »Pastel Dust« navigates the wake of his cat, who died on New Year's Eve 2020.

At first blush, Meluch's atmospheric and melodic sensibilities resonate purely in their own right. Upon closer meditation, his ability to render stories — many of which surround human tragedy, misfortune, and understanding — through the prism of his poetry makes »Eidetic« even more rewarding.

Country songwriter from Brooklyn's indie underground, Dougie Poole blurs the lines between genre and generation on his third solo album, The Rainbow Wheel of Death. Rooted in sharp songwritingvand the organic sounds of a live-in-the-studio band, it's a classic-sounding record for the modern world. The Rainbow Wheel of Death's title nods to the colorful pinwheel that appears onscreen whenever a computer's application stalls. For Poole _ who found himself working as a freelance computer programmer once the pandemic brought his touring schedule to a temporary halt in 2020 _ it's also a reference to the holding pattern that's left much of society feeling stuck, unable to move ahead in an uncertain world. That feeling was pervasive when he in his New York City bedroom and wrapping up the songwriting process in the recording studio itself. Once hailed as the "patron saint of millennial malaise" for his sardonic wit and topical, tongue-in-cheek songwriting, Poole broadens his reach here. "High School Gym" builds a bridge between 2020s lo-fi textures and 1980s pop vibes, while "Must Be In Here Somewhere" _ whose narrator sits at a lap top, searching through "every server burning in North Carolina" for a digital souvenir of a long-lost relationship _ mixes modern concerns with classic country instrumentation. If records like 2017's Wideass Highway and 2020's breakthrough release The Freelancer's Blues told stories about uninspired Millennials languishing in dead-end jobs and no-good relationships, then The Rainbow Wheel of Death focuses on more universal issues like mortality, love, and the passing of the time. With The Rainbow Wheel of Death, Dougie Poole breathes new life into country music, retaining the acclaimed elements of his previous work _ drum machines, synthesizers, and his deep-set voice _ while pushing toward something warm, organic, and prismatic.

Bassist/composer Christian McBride's 'The Movement Revisited: A
Musical Portrait of Four Icons' is the culminating documentation of a
richly inspired piece lauding four key figures of the Civil Rights
Movement: Rev
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Rosa Parks and Muhammad Ali.
Marshalling his ever- sharpening skills as a composer, arranger, conductor,
musician and lyricist, McBride has created a historically and culturally
illuminating five- part suite for an 18- piece big band, chorus and narrators that
places the motivating forces as well as the goals of the Civil Rights Movement
within a powerfully relevant artistic context. It is a one- from- the- heart project
McBride was, apparently, destined to undertake.
This recording of The Movement Revisited marks the addition of a fifth
movement, Apotheosis, which acknowledges the election of Barack Obama as
the first African American President of the United States.
2-LP regular weight black vinyl gatefold jacket.

MILK GREY VINYL

100% GALCHER was by all accounts a game-changer when it landed in 2013 as an hour of original music from a relatively unknown producer ushered in by the beloved mix series Blowing Up The Workshop. Galcher Lustwerk's signature sound _ a smoky stream-of-consciousness baritone shadow-boxing with beats, informed by funk, rap, rhythm, and blues _ felt like an epiphany, impossibly hypnotic and complete. Resident Advisor writes, "100% GALCHER laid out a louche, lysergic and resolutely black take on deep house." Pitchfork remembers the music's immediate impact: "It's the sort of gem you felt inclined to pass around" _ and by year-end list time, word-of-mouth intensified. It was Resident Advisor and Juno's mix of the year, and earned a top-ten placement in FACT Magazine's albums list, as well as Philip Sherburne's personal rundown for Spin." Since then, select songs from 100% GALCHER have seen small-run pressings, while the album has lived primarily on SoundCloud and YouTube as a low-key cult legend. The gateway into Lustwerk's now well-established catalog, known for its reliability as a late-night listen and its prophetic vision for the near future of underground dance music. RA would later name it a mix of the decade, citing its influence and imagination: "Original in every sense _ unknown, unheard and unbelievably good." In late 2022, marking ten years since he first recorded the material, Lustwerk returns to Ghostly International to release 100% GALCHER as a remastered limited-edition double LP. Lustwerk is a product of the Midwest. Growing up in Cleveland, he'd tape over his parents' cassettes and spend hours at his family computer recording loops and designing artwork for the jewel cases of burned CDs. In high school, he turned to Ableton Live and absorbed every electronic music magazine he could find at the local Borders Books store. As a college student at RISD, he played in noise bands, plugged into Providence's DIY scene via Myspace, and started DJing weeknights at bars downtown. There he connected with Young Male and DJ Richard, who would go on to found White Material Records and offer their third release to Galcher Lustwerk, an alias realized via CAPTCHA test, a perfect artifact of its internet age. By 2012, Lustwerk had drifted to New York City and settled into a graphic design job, quickly growing disenfranchised by office culture. "Some days I felt like a token, other days I felt invisible." At night, he and his friends were carving out their own space, throwing parties in small basements, office buildings, and off-beat karaoke bars in Manhattan, influenced by series such as Mr. Sunday in Gowanus and The Bunker at Public Assembly. The lifestyle started to bleed into Lustwerk's musical vision. He remembers the night it clicked in Providence, partying and listening to tunes with Morgan Louis and Alvin Aronson. He went back to New York and pieced together his bedroom setup: a Dave Smith Tempest drum machine, a Waldorf Blofeld synthesizer, and a TEAC cassette recorder. Early snippets went straight to SoundCloud, where Lustwerk tested the crowd. Comments and messages offered instant feedback. One DM proved to be the greenlight: from Matthew Kent, an invitation to his burgeoning mix series Blowing Up The Workshop. 100% GALCHER traveled fast and far. A phenomenon he could only enjoy for a short period before discovering that nearly all the masters of the tracks got wiped by water damage to his computer. "The only copies were now on the 192kbs mp3 mix I sent Matt." Until now, after Lustwerk revived the lost tracks and handed them to Josh Bonati for remastering. "The original mix was never mastered so I hope older fans can find something new here." Hearing the enhanced set for the first time delineated by tracklist reveals this was a proper album all along. Sly synth interludes (all titled "Stem") clear the air for raspy house anthems like "Fifty" and "Parlay," the set's original breakout. Themes present across Lustwerk's catalog first materialize in this iconic run _ the link between the meditative state of Midwest driving and the solitary comedowns of nightlife. Lust- werk, the narrator, is an elusive character, a secret agent of the club, embodied by the hooks: "One minute I'm on / next minute I'm gone," he reminds us on cult-favor- ite "Put On." These narcotic, one-line refrains stick with you; look no further than the original YouTube upload of "Kaint" to know that fans can't let these phrases go. While recorded alone, 100% GALCHER was a collective moment. A decade later, Lustwerk sees the legacy as shared: "Making music can be an alienating experience, especially for DJs who travel a lot, it's all super isolating. It's easy to express lone- liness in the music itself, but when it comes down to getting things done, putting music out, you def should go on that journey w other people, friends, or maybe just a group of people online, build things with your friends then they can build to help you."

Swords and metal go hand in hand. That’s what crossover thrash band High Command say, having turned heads with their debut album Beyond The Wall of Desolation (2019). But it’s not solely metal music which influences the band, who cite the lustful violence of Robert E. Howard, Michel Moorcock, Jack Vance and many other legendary pulp writers of the 20th century as an impetus for their expansive storytelling.
“People would also be surprised to hear we drew quite a bit of inspiration from the music of Ennio Morricone, especially in regards to writing some more of the epic, grandiose passages and chord progressions.” says the band.
Now, with their second album, Eclipse of the Dual Moons, the band take their love of storytelling a step further, deepening and widening the world of Secartha, the realm of High Command’s songs. The band place themselves as omniscient narrators of the world they have created, and say that they are inseparable from Secartha and its people. “It’s one thing to make a good metal record, but it’s another to put on top of it a sort of overarching story that makes sense to listeners. The whole High Command project is enriched by lyrics articulating characters, a world, and trials faced within it. We want our records to be immersive and leave listeners with a feeling they’ve experienced something bigger than the music.”
It’s not just a question of widening the world, which the band first started exploring on The Secartha Demos (2016); Eclipse of the Dual Moons sees High Command honing their process to a fine art “it’s like we started with chiseling a rock… this record is the moment the rock in question begins to look like an actual sculpture.”

Swords and metal go hand in hand. That’s what crossover thrash band High Command say, having turned heads with their debut album Beyond The Wall of Desolation (2019). But it’s not solely metal music which influences the band, who cite the lustful violence of Robert E. Howard, Michel Moorcock, Jack Vance and many other legendary pulp writers of the 20th century as an impetus for their expansive storytelling.
“People would also be surprised to hear we drew quite a bit of inspiration from the music of Ennio Morricone, especially in regards to writing some more of the epic, grandiose passages and chord progressions.” says the band.
Now, with their second album, Eclipse of the Dual Moons, the band take their love of storytelling a step further, deepening and widening the world of Secartha, the realm of High Command’s songs. The band place themselves as omniscient narrators of the world they have created, and say that they are inseparable from Secartha and its people. “It’s one thing to make a good metal record, but it’s another to put on top of it a sort of overarching story that makes sense to listeners. The whole High Command project is enriched by lyrics articulating characters, a world, and trials faced within it. We want our records to be immersive and leave listeners with a feeling they’ve experienced something bigger than the music.”
It’s not just a question of widening the world, which the band first started exploring on The Secartha Demos (2016); Eclipse of the Dual Moons sees High Command honing their process to a fine art “it’s like we started with chiseling a rock… this record is the moment the rock in question begins to look like an actual sculpture.”

Bill Nace"s Through a Room represents a seismic progression from Both, his startling 2020 debut solo LP for Drag City. Nace"s career has been defined by a relentless probing of ways to frame the complex menu of human emotions, and that the guitar has been his primary tool for exploring this terrain is of little consequence. On this new release, he also employs tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, quelle est belle, as well as his latest instrument of choice, taishogoto. This is also, ultimately, insignificant. What matters is the discerning spirit which animates his work. The tracks are carefully built from loops and phrases that talk to each other, subsume one another, overlapping and crashing and diving and expanding and emerging into unimagined vistas. On the whole, the record offers a fascinating and engrossing chronicle - a sequence of interrelated stories told by a temporally dislodged narrator. You think you"re here, then you"re there, and then you go through trapdoors and along tunnels, into cellars and secret rooms, and you find that actually you"re back where you started. But it"s not hard to follow. Trust me. Nothing this enticing can be hard to follow. The record was recorded and edited in Philadelphia during the uncertain summer of 2021 with engineer and co-producer Cooper Crain. Where Both was a chiseling down of spontaneous live performance, Through a Room, while obviously the work of the same artist, treats its sounds as building blocks, combining them to mesmerizing effect. What"s striking is the poise, the degree of authorial intensity. The false dichotomy of composition and improvisation is thoroughly and rightfully abolished. Bill"s interests range from post-punk to post-industrial to hip-hop to free jazz to avant-garde composition, and every area between such unhelpful labels. From the inscrutable, evocative track titles to the enticingly baffling cover art by his longtime compatriot Daniel Higgs, Nace is guided by an ineffable, internal muse, a persistently personal stormcloud of ideas that, ultimately, comprise that thing we call art. Here"s the real deal. - Matt Krefting, Holyoke, 2022

What Are People For? make the perfect kind of dystopic dance music for our times. Born from a collaboration between artist Anna McCarthy and musician/producer Manuela Rzytki, the band could be the illicit lovechild of Tom Tom Club and Throbbing Gristle, displaying the ideal balance of hip shaking vibes and dark provocative content.

On their collaborative debut, McCarthy and Rzytki share songwriting duties. The album was produced by Rzytki herself. They are joined by Paulina Nolte on backing vocals and Tom Wu on drums, while Keith Tenniswood mastered the record.

The whole project stems from a publication and exhibition by McCarthy laying the foundations for the content and lyrics of the album, which is humorous, poetic and political. As a lyricist, McCarthy uses her storytelling ability to explore anxieties and desires, digging into free surreal word associations reminiscent of Su Tissues’ tongue in cheek experiments with Suburban Lawns, but also explosive and gripping like a Kae Tempest rap.
Rzytki’s precise sonic palette and talent at penning structured bangers perfectly complement McCarthy’s playful and subversive language manipulations. Rzytki's beats are rooted in old school Hiphop loop principles and an authentic love for the analog. Her use of an array of synthesizers and other "real" instruments adds to WAPF's depth, soul and sincerity.

The album opens with a joyful anthem, full of energy and melodic hooks. The audience is confronted with the quintessential titular question What Are People For? and told that they are just a mere disposable commodity. Throughout the album, lyrical themes revolve around underground aspects of society, violence, political ideologies, sexuality and mysticism. The content is deep but the album is as danceable as it is biting.

73, with its drum machine hysteria and hypnotic synth basses is a a text collage written on the 73 bus through London, consisting of situations and conversation snippets encountered along the way. Drones indulges in the narrator’s paranoia as they feel they are being watched by cigarette machines, whilst the haunting choir is half spoken, half sung, ending on the orgasmic chanting of the word “mummy”. Nursery Rhyme brings more soothing incantations. There is definitely an affinity for fairytales, albeit adult ones and especially the anarchistic ones such as The Moomins, who were a consistent influence on the band. The artwork for the record, created by McCarthy, is a beautiful children's book-style painting of the group in a forest, seemingly about to engage in a magical encounter to which we are invited.

WAPF? have absorbed and digested a variety of influences. Trip hop, Punk and Techno are rubbing shoulders on Party Time. 1977 was coined “Summer of Hate” in the UK and unsurprisingly in WAPF?’s Summer of War, ethereal singing alternates with a powerful marching Garage/Grime chorus reminiscent of street protests and UK culture.

Mz. Lazy starts like an invitation to meditation and references Gertrude Stein’s book Ida in which she develops the idea that publicity is a new religion and people are now famous for being famous. Repressed anger explodes into violence and freedom at the end of the song as our heroine eventually grabs an axe to destroy her oppressors.
Fantasize, on its part, is raw, sexual and liberating while the closing track Bring Back the Dirt is a welcome hymn into a world that is becoming more and more sanitised.

While exploring deep subject matters throughout their album, WAPF? manage to remain satirical, exciting and funny. Each and everyone of their songs have a cathartic quality.

The visual identity of the band is intrinsic to their appeal. Live, they are eccentric, wild and unapologetic, wearing see-through costumes, bright miniskirts and intricate headpieces while delivering their songs with sharp intensity. Their performances radiate queer sexiness and transcend B52's thrift store aesthetics, creating a space for collective dreaming.

WAPF? is a rare combination of contemporary punk energy, irresistible groove, absurdist dry humour and astounding depth of field. They have the mighty power to create a party with their music and soon you will find yourself lifting your arms as if controlled by an external force, to chant: WAPF? WAPF? WAPF?

– Marie Merlet (Malphino, Little Trouble Girls, London)

LP comes with a Side D etching in triple gatefold jacket + full album download. The Will to Live was produced by Titus Andronicus singer-songwriter Patrick Stickles and Canadian icon Howard Bilerman (Arcade Fire, Leonard Cohen, The Whole Nine Yards) at the latter’s Hotel 2 Tango recording studio in Montreal. Drawing on maximalist rock epics from Who’s Next to Hysteria, Bilerman and Stickles have crafted the richest, densest, and hardest hitting sound for Titus Andronicus yet. All at once, the record matches the sprawl and scope of the band’s most celebrated work, while also honing their ambitious attack to greater effect than ever before. “It may strike some as ironic we had to go to Canada to record our equivalent to Born in the USA,” quips Stickles, “but the pursuit of Ultimate Rock knows no borders. ”For his recent stretch of personal stability, he credits a newfound domestic bliss and steadfast mental health regimen (“Lamictal is a hell of a drug”) as well as the endurance of what has become the longest-running consistent lineup of Titus Andronicus—Liam Betson on guitar, R.J. Gordon on bass, and Chris Wilson on drums. On the crueler side of the coin, however, The Will to Live was created in large part as an attempt to process the untimely 2021 death of Matt “Money” Miller, the founding keyboardist of the band and Stickles’ closest cousin. Stickles explains: “The passing of my dearest friend forced me to recognize not only the precious and fragile nature of life, but also the interconnectivity of all life. Loved ones we have lost are really not lost at all, as they, and we still living, are all component pieces of a far larger continuous organism, which both precedes and succeeds our illusory individual selves, united through time by (you guessed it) the will to live.” “Naturally, though, our long-suffering narrator can only arrive at this conclusion through a painful and arduous odyssey through Hell itself,” he qualifies. “This is a Titus Andronicus record, after all.” When Titus Andronicus made their long-awaited return to the stage in 2021, it was to celebrate the anniversary of their landmark breakthrough The Monitor, and the act of playing that material before an ecstatic audience left the band determined to deliver an album that would reach for those same lofty heights, relying this time less on the reckless fire of youth and more on the experience and perspective at which a band only arrives with a thousand shows under their belt. Through this golden ratio, Titus Andronicus have arrived at the peak of their creative powers. From its adrenalizing opening instrumental “My Mother Is Going to Kill Me” to its wistful closing benediction “69 Stones,” The Will to Live conjures a vast landscape and sends the listener on a rocket ride from peak to vertiginous peak. Rock fans will find themselves a feast, whether they crave barn-burning rock anthems such as “(I’m) Screwed” and “All Through the Night,” rapid-fire lyrical gymnastics (“Baby Crazy”), symphonic punk throwdowns (“Dead Meat”), or an adventurous excursion into the darkness that delivers thrills as it breezes boldly past the 7 minute mark, “An Anomaly.” As if that wasn’t enough gas for the tank, The Will to Live features sterling contributions from members of the Hold Steady, Arcade Fire, and the E Street Band, as well as duets with the aforementioned Betson, former Titus Andronicus drummer Eric Harm, and Josée Caron of the Canadian rock band Partner. The album comes packaged with gorgeous triple-gatefold artwork by illustrious illustrator Nicole Rifkin, a Hieronymus Bosch–inspired triptych which mirrors the three-part structure of the narrator’s perilous voyage across the corresponding three sides of vinyl. All together, this esteemed ensemble, with Stickles and Bilerman determined and defiant at the helm, have found The Will to Live—now, the question is… will you?

SIDE A 1. My Mother is Going to Kill Me 2. (I’m) Screwed 3. I Can Not Be Satisfied 4. Bridge and Tunnel SIDE B 5. Grey Goo 6. Dead Meat 7. An Anomaly SIDE C 8. Give Me Grief 9. Baby Crazy 10. All Through the Night 11. We’re Coming Back 12. 69 Stones SIDE D Etching

Oliver Sim hatte eigentlich nicht den Wunsch, es seinen The xx-Bandkollegen Romy Madley Croft und Jamie Smith gleichzutun und ein Soloprojekt zu starten. Er dachte auch nicht, dass er wirklich den Mut dazu hätte. Als er mit Jamie xx an einem Stück namens "Romance with a Memory" arbeitete, sagte dieser jedoch: "Ich denke, du solltest eine komplette Platte machen". Und das war der Beginn der langen und schmerzhaften Geburt von "Hideous Bastard", Oliver Sims Solo-Debütalbum, das am 09.09.22 auf Young erscheinen wird. "Fast drei Jahre lang habe ich mir Fragen gestellt und war beim Schreiben auf der Suche nach Antworten", beschreibt Sim den Entstehungsprozess des Albums. Die Enthüllung seiner HIV-Erkrankung verfolgt die Platte thematisch, so wie sie sein Leben stets überschattet hat. In diesem ersten Song "Hideous" fragt sich Sim, ob seine entwaffnende Ehrlichkeit ihn wohl befreien wird. Die Hoffnung und die Spannung spiegeln sich in der musikalischen Umgebung wider, die er zusammen mit seinem Freund Jamie xx geschaffen hat. Oliver begann zu Hause in London mit dem Schreiben und Aufnehmen von Songs, inspiriert von seiner Vorliebe für Horrorfilme und seinem eigenen Leben, wobei er Themen wie Angst und Scham durch die Brille eines queeren Mannes in den Dreißigern anpackte. Einige Monate später kehrte er mit einer Sammlung von Demos zu Jamie zurück, und die beiden begannen, sie gemeinsam zu produzieren. Er holte sich unter anderem die Hilfe seines lebenslangen Helden und jetzigen Freundes Jimmy Somerville, um dem Album den letzten Schliff zu geben und sprach zudem mit Elton John über seine Musik. Anschließend war es an dem französischen Regisseure Yann Gonzales eine visuelle Welt mit dem Kurzfilm "Hideous" zu erschaffen. Der Film feiert seine Premiere bei den diesjährigen Filmfestspielen von Cannes. "Hideous Bastard" ist ein audiovisuelles Ereignis geworden, wie es sich Oliver Sim anfangs selber nie zugetraut hätte, umso beeindruckender ist nun das Ergebnis.

First ever vinyl edition of this one off collaboration between Philippe Poirier (Kat Onoma) and Stefan Schneider (to rococo rot / TAL) which was initiated by La Batie - Festival de Geneve, in 2002. The original recordings of the album took place the same year at Bleibeil Studios, Berlin. Engineered by Bernd Jestram. Restauration and mastering by Detlef Funder at Paraschall, Düsseldorf in 2022.

"19 or 20 years, what difference does it make if the beautiful things in life are able to transport us back to Year Zero - again and again. The moment when this album was created. It is the timeless horizon that motivates the artist. “Dad, what’s the line doing there ?” - a good start for a story. Philippe Poirier and Stefan Schneider recount tales of slow travel, far beyond the known continents.
The adventures of a certain Corto Maltese, mysterious love stories in long forgotten harbours. A love that creates its own time, just like a chess game, an ocean liner or propeller airoplanes. The enthusiasm for cartography which Philippe Poirier and Stefan Schneider share, time and again, similar to dream. The dream of an idea, of exploration, of finding. The first lines of a drawing that become the great painting. The sequences and the words which design a world in its own right. A tremendous reservoir and my old friend knows that there is an ideal companion for every journey. This time Philippe Poirier is a narrator who finds a sound like sand flowing through fingers and who knows how deep each object accompanies each love. Les Choses de la Vie." Detlef Weinrich (tolouse low tax), Paris 2021

Debut release from David J (Bauhaus, Love And Rockets), Victor DeLorenzo (Violent Femmes) and multi-instrumentalist Darwin Meiners Recorded worldwide during the pandemic Available January 21, 2022 on CD and Digital with LP coming later in 2022 Iconic and foundational bands in the history of alternative music certainly include Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Violent Femmes. San Francisco born artist Darwin Meiners was a fan of all three. A chance meeting 13 years ago with David J (Bauhaus, Love & Rockets) grew into a friendship, and Darwin not only became a bandmate, but David J’s manager. After reaching out to Victor DeLorenzo through e-mail, Darwin met the Violent Femmes drummer after the Femmes’ Coachella set in 2013. Soon after the three collaborated on Darwin’s 2014 release Souvenir. As the pandemic took hold, Darwin was looking for a new project to occupy the lock-down time and approached Victor, who was keen to proceed and suggested that David join as well. The musical trust established between these three was immediate and Night Crickets were born. Within weeks a global process was initiated between them, the recordings eventually forming the album, A Free Society. To say this is something of a dream come true for music fans would be entirely accurate. (The band’s name came from one of many Zoom meetings between the three members. After addressing various pressing musical issues the conversation rambled somewhat and turned to the subject of David Lynch, with David J telling an anecdote which was told to him by Lynch’s sound designer, John Neff. Lynch had asked Neff to obtain a field recording of crickets chirping at night for inclusion in Mulholland Drive. When Neff played him the tape, the director immediately recognized the sound that the insects make when it is light which is apparently a little different to their nocturnal chirp. “No! No! No! These are day crickets, John! I want my night crickets!” Victor, Darwin, and David then shared a look of mutual realization and instantly agreed that the project now had a name!) In Night Crickets’ own words: Night Crickets, a long distance groove affair conducted during the drawn out days of lockdown and beyond.

A Ride is the new dark alt-country concept album on the road by Phill Reynolds, to be released on June 17th, 2022 by Bronson Recordings; Like all the best concept albums, A Ride takes you on a journey. This one concerns the last three days of an American runaway’s life. Part road-trip, part engrossing mystery, part search for redemption, it’s the fictional tale of a troubled man whose past comes back to haunt him. Via eleven intimate, chronologically-sequenced songs, we travel with him. There are epiphanies and dream sequences, drunken dive-bar nights and chats with Jesus and Lucifer. As the narrator battles with his dark side, it is ultimately we, the listeners, who must weigh-up and flesh-out his story. According to its creator Phill Reynolds, AKA Italian alt-country singer-songwriter Silva Martino Cantele, the key to The Ride’s mystery might lie within its fifth song, A Clockwork Dream. “That’s where we discover that, because of some kind of courtroom trial, the narrator has lost someone who was very important to him”, Reynolds explains. “But we never find out her name or her relationship to the main character. Is she a blood relative? Is she his wife or someone else?”. The origins of A Ride go back to 2015. On tour in the US, Reynolds took in the shifting landscapes, the people he met and their stories. All of this fed into the album he recorded at the all-analogue TUP Studio in Brescia, near Milan. Reynolds played almost all of the instruments himself and co-produced A Ride with long-term collaborator Bruno Barcella. If A Clockwork Dream features a full band arrangement – “I think of it as the kind of thing Neil Young & Crazy Horse might do on a Sunday morning”, says Reynolds – other songs are sparer, more intimate. Banjo, Fender Rhodes, harmonica and glistening slide guitar all feature as Reynolds delivers haunting confessionals such as Run, Run Away and The Fault Is Mine, songs likely to appeal to fans of artists such as Damien Jurado, Strand Of Oaks or For Emma, Forever Ago-era Bon Iver. Intricate, rapid-fire fingerpicking on the first single This Isn’t Me and The Call of The Dark demonstrates Reynolds’ dexterity, while his voice is a rich, fully-lived in instrument seasoned with the salt of experience,and strengthened by the 120 or so gigs a year he used to do before COVID took his one-man show off the road. Long an inhabitant of picturesque Italian towns in the Vicenza province, Phill Reynolds was born in Marostica and currently lives in Zugliano. He was only five when The Beach Boys’ Barbara Ann worked its magic upon him via the radio. Later a fan of ‘90s Californian punk bands, Reynolds was writing and performing in his own post-hardcore bands by 13, but didn’t make it to the nearest big city, Milan, until he was 19. Bands still matter deeply to him. But his love for folk music has deepened over the last decade or so, hence his solo act alter-ego. Where did the name Phill Reynolds come from? “Everybody asks me this,” he smiles. “Especially in the UK. The truth is I needed an alternative name for a gig I was doing, and at the time I was in love with the music of Phil Ochs and Malvina Reynolds. Malvina Ochs didn’t sound too good to me, so I became Phill Reynolds, and I like that, because it sounds like a normal person”. The esteemed Italian label Bronson Recordings will release his fourth solo album A Ride on June 17th, 2022, on CD, vinyl and digital. A Ride is the most ambitious and fully-realised Phill Reynolds album to date. He was assisted by Stefano Pilia (lead guitar on Dive Bar Oblivion), IOSONOUNCANE (backing vocals, synth, bass and field recordings on World On Fire), and C+C=Maxigross (bass, drums and backing vocals on In The Dark). The record’s story is a dark one, but not one without hope. “Every end is a new beginning”, says Reynolds. “One of the main themes here is that life can be a sort of trap unless you recognise your own demons and try to deal with him. So we must be prepared and try to live well”.

Felicia Atkinson’s music always puts the listener somewhere in particular. There are two categories of place that are important to »Image Langage«: the house and the landscape. Inside and outside, different ways of orienting a body towards the world. They are in dialogue, insofar as in the places Atkinson made this record—Leman Lake, during a residency at La Becque in Switzerland, and at her home on the wild coast of Normandy—the landscape is what is waiting for you when you leave the house, and vice-versa. Each threatens—or is it offers, kindly, even promises? —to dissolve the other. Recognizing the normalization of home studios these days, she revisited twentieth-century women artists who variously chose, and were chosen by, their homes as a place to work: the desert retreats of Agnes Martin and Georgia O’Keefe, the life and death of Sylvia Plath. Building a record is like building a house: a structure in which one can encounter oneself, each room a song with its own function in the project of everyday life.

At times listening to »Image Langage« is immediate, something like visiting a house by the sea, sharing the same ground, being invited to witness Atkinson’s acts of seeing, hearing, and reading in a sonic double of the places they occurred. In an aching moment of clarity in »The Lake is Speaking,« a pair of voices emerge out of the primordial murk of piano and organ, accompanying the listener to the edge of a reflective pool that makes a mirror of the cosmos. "I open my feet to fresh dirt, and the wet grass. I hold your hand. You hold his hand. In the distance without any distance. The comets, the stars." At other times, listening to »Image Langage« is more like being in a theatre, the composition a tangle of flickering forms and media that illuminate as best they can the darkness from which we experience it. On »Pieces of Sylvia,« a noirish orchestra drones and clatters beneath and around a montage of vocal images, stretching the listener across time, space, subjectivities. Atkinson says that "Image Langage" is like the fake title of a fake Godard film. There is indeed something cinematic about Atkinson’s work—not cinematic in the sense that it sounds like the score for someone else’s film, but cinematic in the sense that it produces its own images and langage and narratives, a kind of deliberate, dimensional world-building in sound.

»Image Langage« is built from instruments recorded as if field recordings, sound-images of instruments conjured from a keyboard, instruments Atkinson treats like characters, what she calls “a fantasy of an orchestra that doesn’t exist.” And then, speaking of Godard, there are the monologues, operating as both experimental-cinematic device and a literary style of narration. Voice can be a writerly anchor or a wisp of a textural presence. Atkinson’s capacious and slippery speech plunges into and out of the compositional depths, shifting shapes, channelling the voices of any number of beings, subjectivities, or elements of her surroundings—not unlike her midi keyboard, able to speak as a vast array of instruments.

»Image Langage« is an environmental record, in the vastest sense of the world. It is about getting lost in places imagined and real; it registers, too, the dizzying feeling of moving between such sites. It puts forth a concept of self that is hopelessly entangled with the rest of the world, born of both the ache of distance and the warmth of proximity.

For Félicia Atkinson, human voices inhabit an ecology alongside and within many other things that don’t speak, in the conventional sense: landscapes, images, books, memories, ideas. The French electro-acoustic composer and visual artist makes music that animates these other possible voices in conversation with her own, collaging field recording, MIDI instrumentation, and snippets of essayistic langage in both French and English. Her own voice, always shifting to make space, might whisper from the corner or assume another character’s tone. Atkinson uses composing as a way to process imaginative and creative life, frequently engaging with the work of visual artists, filmmakers, and novelists. Her layered compositions tell stories that alternately stretch and fold time and place, stories in which she is the narrator but not the protagonist.

"The letter X marks the spot, crosses over, literally with a cross. It’s the former, the ex-. The ex-lover known simply as “an ex”. Ex- is the latin prefix meaning “out”. Exterior, an exit. Extraordinary. Excellent. It’s exciting. Generation X. X-files. X is the unknown. X is Extreme“

Extreme is Molly Nilsson’s tenth studio album. Recorded in 2019 and throughout the 2020 global pandemic at home in Berlin, Extreme is a departure for Nilsson, an explosion of angry love. It’s an album of anthems for the jilted generation, soaked with joy and offering solace, bristling with distorted, Metal guitars and planet-sized choruses that bring light to the dark centre of the galaxy. It’s an album of the times, by the times and for the people. It’s a record about power. About how to fight it, how to take it and how to share it.

Absolute Power explodes with massive guitars, double kick beats and the instantly iconic line “It’s me versus the black hole at the centre of the galaxy.” Nilsson’s performance itself portrays absolute power in its confidence but the song is a call-to-arms, an entreaty to grasp the here and now, to take the power back. It’s Nilsson pacing the ring and we’re instantly in her corner. Earth Girls takes familiar Molly Nilsson themes - female empowerment and subverting the patriarchy - but casually throws in one of the choruses of her career. “Women have no place in this world” she sings, but it’s the world that isn’t good enough. Stadium-sized but still warmly hazy, Earth Girls has its fists in the air, glorifying in harmony, almost ecstatic in its feeling good. Nilsson’s Springsteen-level conviction and righteousness bleeds through the speaker cones, the cognitive dissonance between the song’s cadences and angry lyrics redolent of Bruce in his prime. Female empowerment isn’t always an angry energy on Extreme, however. On Fearless Like A Child, Nilsson’s anthem to the female body and women’s sovereignty of it, she croons over a mid-80s blue-eyed Soul groove. It sets a nocturnal scene as the narrator surveys her past and her surroundings. Before we’re fully submerged in a dreamlike, Steve McQueen-era Prefab Sprout poem to learning from your mistakes the song erupts into one of those lines only Molly Nilsson can get away with: “I love my womb, come inside I feel so alive” she fervently sings. Against the backdrop of ever-encroaching, conservative rulings on women’s reproductive rights in places like Texas, it’s simultaneously angry and full of love.

Every song on Extreme is a gleaming gem in a pouch of jewels. On Kids Today, Nilsson is the voice of wisdom, archly commenting on the eternal struggle between youth and authority. Wisdom infuses Sweet Smell Of Success with a transcendent love that forgives the narrator’s shortcomings and celebrates the moment, it’s a letter to the author from the author that asks “what is success” and concludes that this is it, this song, this moment. It’s a rare moment of simple reflection that is generous in its insight to Nilsson’s inner life. “Success” is a tool of power and we don’t need it… We need power tools and there are moments on Extreme where it feels like Nilsson is showing us how to find them. It's an open conversation through out Extreme. She’s a warm, comforting presence through out the album and specially on these songs of encouragement, songs perhaps sang to a younger Molly Nilsson or, really, to whomever needs to hear them. “They’ll praise your efforts, they’ll call you slurs a rebel, a master, an amateur / Merely with your own existence, you already offer your resistance.” On Avoid Heaven she’s even more direct, pleading with us to avoid concepts of purity and to embrace the glorious, ebullient, emotional mess we’re often in as a method of upending the power structures who need things to be perfect.

They Will Pay brings back the big, distorted power chords in the form of a agit-punk, pop slammer. Of course, when Molly Nilsson does punk pop we get the catchiest chorus this side of The Bangles or The Nerves. It’s rendered in an off the cuff, throwaway manner that is just perfect in its roughness. However, it’s on Pompeii that Nilsson delivers the album’s epic, emotional heartbreaker. Like 1995 on Nilsson’s album Zenith, or Days Of Dust on Twenty Twenty, the lyrics of Pompeii are heavy with a transcendent sadness, an aching poetry that cuts to the truth of the heart like the best Leonard Cohen lines, though here delivered with an uplifting, life-affirming love. It contains the most personal moments of Extreme, a song lit by the dying embers of romance. Yet it’s here where the alchemy at the base of all Nilsson’s best work is found. Turning small nuggets of personal truth into big, generous universal moments that invite everyone to cry, to love and to fight the power. In an album of jewels, it might be the shining star.

Molly Nilsson’s biggest, boldest and most vital album to date, Extreme is about power. Against the love of power and for the power of love.