Buscar:the real

Seeking overlooked beauty and prizing reflection in a distracted world, Hammock creates cinematic music for the road less traveled. In stirring works of shimmering post-rock ambience that swell with hope and melancholic nostalgia, the Nashville-based duo of Marc Byrd and Andrew Thompson immerse listeners in living visions of moments long past, animating life's fond remembrances and scarring losses with gentle lens-flare harmonics, heart-surging neoclassical drama, and pensive silence. A direct challenge to the passive existence of modern life, where everything can be experienced but precious little is felt, Hammock demands, and richly rewards, patience and contemplation. One of Hammock's career defining works, the Mysterium, Universalis, and Silencia trilogy came to a close in 2019. The first chapter, Mysterium, was written following the death of Byrd's 20-year-old nephew and dealt with incomprehensible, shattering loss. Difficult understanding came on Universalis, and an altered reality understood through quiet reflection took hold on Silencia. Emerging from the silence, a period that brought with it the global pandemic of Covid-19 that has kept loved ones apart, conscripted months upon months of isolation, and roused directionless longing for escape, Hammock presents Elsewhere. Recorded by Byrd and Thompson at their homes, apart and with minimal equipment, Elsewhere serves as a gateway to another place, materializes feelings of separation and loss without closure, and calls listeners back to live their lives - not spend them longing to be something or somewhere else. - Wyatt Marshal

I was aware of Submerse from a long time ago, mainly for when he was making hip-hop & footwork tunes but I had noticed that a few years ago, on his SoundCloud page, he was uploading jungle tunes that he had started making, which got me interested in keeping tabs on what he was doing.

But it wasn't until I met him in Tokyo where he's based, when I played after him at an event at Circus (venue in Osaka & Tokyo) and then met up with him again later on that week that I realised how much he had been making.

He sent me some of the stuff he'd been doing that wasn't available publicly yet and I was really impressed by how strong the melodies were and how much influence from video game soundtracks he had in his tunes, I knew I had to get him on Future Retro London for a release.

Big up to Submerse for allowing me to put out this EP of his on Future Retro London, look out for more music from him to come on Future Retro London and other labels!

Japan’s SUDO return to Drumcode with ‘We Are Free’, following their landmark 2024 debut ‘Real World’ Last summer brothers Isao and Takashi aka SUDO gifted Drumcode one of the most inspiring releases we’ve heard in recent times with ‘Real World’. Inspired by Underworld’s incendiary ‘Rez’, the EP was the sound of two producers pouring all their passion and shared musical history into a work that’ll be remembered for years to come.

The release peaked at no.1 on Beatport’s Release Charts and saw a follow up collaboration with Bart Skils ‘Nexus’ out later that year on Drumcode. ‘We Are Free’ continues SUDO’s emotion-led and timeless approach to techno, crafting a four-tracker inspired by the concepts of “freedom, divinity, memory and transition”. The title track genre-hops between electro-edged techno, silky ambient textures and breakbeats. Isao says: “We wanted to express in a powerful and explosive way one of our purposes on the dancefloor – a time of celebration, and freedom from restrictions.”

‘Elysium’ is a transcendental slice of techno that juxtaposes tough industrial rhythms with a stunning break that was inspired by a children’s choir Isao heard one day at Berlin Cathedral. “It took a long time to producer with many patterns until we were satisfied,” Isao shares.

“It was a real process of immersing oneself in the hypnotic groove and finding divinity.” Initially inspired by watching Bart Skils play a NYE 2025 set in Argentina, ‘Lost in Paradise’ is led by a delicate Latin vocal and crisp sun-dappled beats, before stepping up the pace in the second half. “As the production progressed, we were led to a wonderful result with the track’s vocal, a tribute to one of our biggest influences – the untouched nature of Ibiza and the vibes of the light and beautiful people that flow there.” The EP winds down with ‘Horizon’, a simultaneously beautiful yet bittersweet hymn that signals the end of the party.

JayWood - the nom de plume of Jeremy Haywood-Smith - is embracing new pastures having moved his music-making from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Montreal, and his new album Leo Negro chimes with a different tone as it looks to reconnect the self and grapple with one's identity. Marking a moment of meaningful change where controlled chaos takes the lead, it philosophises on what it truly means to be an experimentalist building a multi-faceted world where genre is infinite through sounds braver, more playful, and truthful than he's dared deliver before. Despite its astute sampling with layers of twists and turns, Leo Negro doesn't showboat but roars in the presence of vulnerability as it considers one's absolutes as a way of navigating the identity crisis. "Always looking for attention, I admit it, I can't help it, I'm a Leo," he reasons between vintage hip-hop scrubs on `Pistachios,' recalling a childhood need to be the centre of attention then stepping out of the spotlight as a grown-up. "Leos are confident and sure about themselves, but this record isn't that; so really, when translated, the title inspires `black confidence.' It's an uncomfortable, weird, and surreal term which bends the truth and embodies everything within." Experimenting in both life and music, Leo Negro and its first cut, `Big Tings' (feat. California, art-pop duo Tune-Yards) couldn't be further from 2023's Grow On EP and the previous year's slick LP Slingshot. Moving with flow akin to D'Angelo with Toro Y Moi textures, its twinkling intro of whirling synth and playful approach circles back to Jeremy's adolescence when he'd reverse, slow down, and speed up his favourite songs through the media player on his computer. Encouraged by his musical squad Will Grierson, Arthur Antony, Brett Ticzon, and enlisting his stylist and thrifter friends to capture the Leo Negro aesthetic, JayWood's big `in' for 2025 is collaboration, with the tight-knit crew of likeminded musical colleagues captured in session photo grins beaming from his Instagram grid. Nominated for Canada's coveted Polaris Music Prize, it'd be easy to be the cowardly lion; to rinse and repeat what's worked up to this point. But for JayWood, leaning into his natural `what if?' curiosity to make up his own rules as he goes along ("I never really knew what they were to begin with") and venture into honesty's unsafe space to seek comfort, confidence and make even greater connections, really is the only option. After all, he can't help it; he's a Leo.

Nu-hardcore quintet, Bodyweb, are the sound of someone’s nervous system on the verge of breakdown—hyperactive, tormented and unflinchingly vulnerable. Born out of the Leeds hardcore scene, they’re a shape-shifting alloy of jagged emotion and precision chaos. What began as late-night jams between Louis Hardy (Higher Power, Big Cheese, Fate) and Ben Jones (Pest Control) eventually mutated into train_wreck_simulation, a debut EP filled with frantic breakdowns and nu-metal swag that felt like the soundtrack to a digital exorcism. The final piece of the puzzle came from Hardy’s estranged childhood friend, pq. His twisted samples and synthetic textures are haunted and disturbed, injecting cyberpunk soul into hardcore flesh. Contorting through several iterations in the following years, the band absorbed Luke Thompson (Stiff Meds) on drums, filmmaker Tom Hobson on guitar and Naomi Macleod (Empire State Bastard) on bass, and laid down their first collective offering. deadwired is due out on Flatspot Records later this year. Bodyweb's second EP is a violent thesis on connection and pain that sends Hardy’s unfiltered vocals through heaven and hell. Four overstimulating tracks run a gamut of styles and influences from Slipknot to Björk, constantly lane-switching between dizzying heaviness, ambient soundscapes and brain-burrowing hooks. Entirely self-produced, deadwired upgrades the sonic formula laid down on the last record and raises the question: what else could exist in Bodyweb’s twisted roadmap? Nothing seems impossible. What seems important, however, is retaining the rawness in a style that can often turn sterile. “We still wanted it to sound very human. It had to be well produced but not cold and lifeless.” shares Hardy. “We didn’t use a click track. All guitars were real amps with microphones. We tried to make everything as real and raw as possible, we recorded using all the same gear we use when playing live too to really capture the energy of how it feels when we jam together." ‘Deadwired’ is a snapshot of violent implosion. Four ADHD-fuelled transmissions from the edge of spiritual collapse. It drags metallic hardcore through glitched-out ambience to confront ego death, generational trauma, and the violence of being alive. On stage, Bodyweb don’t just perform, they purge. Raucous live electronics meld with digitally contorted guitars. Breakbeats meet breakdowns—no backing track in sight. Bodyweb enable a collective catharsis. Mosh, dance, dive, scream, heal. A physical therapy session screamed into the void.

Fragments Of Reality is an ongoing series from 20/20 Visions that explores interplanetary sounds, and this seventh outing is another doozy. American artist Miles Mercer kicks off with the crunchy drums and big hits of his acid-laced electro-tech fusion, 'Voice Control.' Shaked flip the script with a funky minimal jam that's wired up with innocent sounding melodies and lush colours that feel psychoactive. Label curator Luther Vine then flips things once again with his punchy 'Take The Wheel' with its bold bassline and tight tech bounce, while London's Pach serves up 'Critical Emergency' which hits a sweet spot between trip-out cosmic synth work and kinetic drum programming. Four tasteful tools once more from this fine old label.

“'Lyceum' is a fountainhead of unqualified greatness. It’s a strange, sad sound harking back to old school tunesmanship – Aztec Camera, ‘Rattlesnakes’, prime-time Felt – but the whole affair is permeated with a resonant, almost tearful quality. ‘Lyceum’ is reminiscent of Galaxie 500’s ‘Today’ in that it sounds like it cost less than a round of drinks to produce. But the lo fi sound merely enhances the misty glazed-pop sound and raises the hallelujah choruses to the forefront. Rather than drowning them in production mush. Don’t pass it by”.
– Bob Stanley, Melody Maker 1989
Hailing from the suburbs of Glasgow, this five-piece are best known for their three starry-eyed albums on the renowned Sarah Records - this being an expanded version of their first (an eight-track 10” at the time).
By the tail end of the 1980s the independent music scene in the UK was turning its back on the polish and over-indulgence of the mid-80s with its gated drums and wallpaper production. And those who weren’t stretching the boundaries of sonic innovation had tuned back to the post-punk ethos of ramshackle charm and zealous melody, even dousing the spirit with some political fervour once more. Influences were more likely to be Television and the Television Personalities than MTV.
The Orchids and The Sea Urchins were the first two bands to release 7” singles on the Sarah label having previously begun their recording existence on a shared flexi disc in 1987 (The Sea Urchins went on to become Delta, whose classic album ‘Slippin' Out’ from 2000 will be the second release on Circuitry). The Scottish five-piece released ‘I’ve Got a Habit’ and ‘Underneath the Window, Underneath the Sink’ as EPs before really finding their feet with ‘Lyceum’; the tracks, remastered from the original Toad Hall tapes are included on this reissue as are the three songs from the ‘What Will We Do Next?’ 7” (this collection closes with the frazzled stretch that is ‘Yawn’). 'Lyceum' was originally released in August 1989.
The album opens with ‘It’s Only Obvious’ and its gloriously youthful chorus of “who needs tomorrow when all I need, all I needed was you”. James Hackett somehow appears both forthright and rejected, something that one of their musical heroes The Go-Betweens also had down to a fine art. It barely takes a breath until midway through side two where ‘Hold On’ (sounding suspiciously like an unlikely objective) descends into the intro of ‘Blue Light’, the counted-in ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ whispered like the most hopelessly dejected rally. If that sounds depressing it isn’t. This record by The Orchids was a spirited source of comfort for an 18 year old at the time and still shudders with the best type of melancholy, one that’s spirited not indulgent. If you’re not familiar with the band’s charm, this is where you should begin.
'Lyceum' is released on double black vinyl by new label Circuitry.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

It"s been six years since LA DISPUTE released their last album, Panorama. Since then, the Michigan post-hardcore band-made up of Jordan Dreyer on vocals, Brad Vander Lugt on drums, Chad Morgan-Sterenberg and Corey Stroffolino on guitar, and Adam Vass on bass-dealt with the stagnance of the pandemic, celebrated the ten-year anniversaries of Wildlife and Rooms Of The House, and began working on NO ONE WAS DRIVING THE CAR. The fifth studio LP is the first entirely produced by the group, and it came together in Grand Rapids and Detroit, the United Kingdom, Australia, and the Philippines: "I think the change in environment was really helpful to breathing new life into the process each time we came back to it," Dreyer says. Partly inspired by the 2017 psychological thriller First Reformed, NO ONE WAS DRIVING THE CAR reckons with malaise in the shadow of the looming apocalypse, which has noticeably been worsened by the advancement of tech. The title comes from a quote from a police officer Dreyer read in a news article about a lethal self-driving Tesla crash, an absurd event which raises questions about the amount of control we have in our own lives. In fourteen dynamic tracks, the band grapples with the existential topic and the human need to find comfort and a sense of security in an existence where we"re often thrust into chaos without permission.

World Of Echo announces the reissue of two remastered albums by Japanese guitarist and songwriter Naoki Zushi, 1988’s Paradise, and 2005’s III. Two classics of Japanese psychedelia, both Paradise and III were originally released on Org Records, the imprint of Shinji Shibayama of acid-folk group Nagisa Ni Te, with whom Zushi has guested on second guitar for decades. Both intimate and expansive, rich with revelatory songwriting and blasted, sky-scouring guitar, these reissues return these albums to print for the first time since the 2000s. It’s the first time III has been officially released on vinyl, with an extra, previously unreleased track, “Under The June Moonlight.”

Recorded in Kyoto’s Townhouse Studios in mid 1987 and released in limited-to-500 vinyl pressing in 1988, Paradise emerged from a scene in Kansai, Japan that was embracing the idiosyncracies of 1970s singer-songwriters, the soaring solos of early seventies psychedelia, and the DIY impulse of 1980s post-punk. While Zushi’s musical history stretched back to the early eighties – he was a founding member of Jojo Hiroshige’s noise outfit Hijokaidan – he found his feet with groups like Hallelujahs, whose dream-pop collection Niku O Kuraite Chikai Wo Tateyo was recently reissued by Black Editions, and Idiot O’Clock.

Paradise appeared two years after that Hallelujahs album and share much the same membership – Zushi’s backing band on several of the songs includes Shibayama on drums and Ken-Ichi Takayama (aka Idiot) on electric guitar, though just as often, Zushi plays all the instruments himself. The coordinates here are wide-reaching – you can hear the volume and intensity of Neil Young & Crazy Horse (on “Hallelujah: Left Side” and “Paradise: Midday”), the slow-motion magic of Galaxie 500, the idiosyncratic spirit of The Only Ones, all mixed up with tender guitar miniatures and stumbling garage-psych-pop moves.

Seven years later, after the transitional album Phenomenal Luciferin, Zushi released III. Perhaps his masterpiece, it’s already been bootlegged on vinyl, but this reissue is the real deal. The album was recorded at Studio Nemu over seven years, and sees Zushi backed by Shibayama (bass) and Masako Takeda (drums), his erstwhile bandmates in Nagisa Ni Te. By this stage, Zushi had started to really stretch out, and many of the songs on III swoon languorously, taking their sweet time to say what they need to say. It’s rich with lovely, melancholy songs, in a similar realm to bandmates Nagisa Ni Te, of course, but you can also hear traces of everything from Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs, through seventies private press loner folk, to the slow-burn meanderings of the likes of early Low or Damon & Naomi.

When interviewed by Shibayama in the mid-nineties, Zushi said of Paradise, “it was a sort of collection of songs that had meant something to me up to that point… it was my paradise. I wanted to create paradise.” That’s something Zushi achieves on both of these albums – visionary Japanese psychedelia, en route to paradise. - Jon Dale







g Under The June Moonlight vinyl only bonus track

Gastr del Sol"s second album returns at last to the vinyl format - its first physical manifestation in well over a decade. Once again, a drop of the needle may ignite any number of queries, summed simply in one: What IS this music? Such is the potent energy of Crookt, Crackt, or Fly, retaining its otherworldly qualities some 32 years and countless musical movements since. Crookt, Crackt, or Fly expands upon The Serpentine Similar"s minimalist stance in unexpected ways, imposing further austerity in the soundscape but for an unpredictable expansive quantity periodically overflowing, waves of blood sluicing through the elevator doors. This is partially due to a change within the group dynamic: the departure of bassist Ken "Bundy" Brown and the arrival of a new partner for guitarist and singer David Grubbs - guitarist and sound fuckerer Jim O"Rourke. O"Rourke"s initial work with Gastr involved editing and recomposing recordings of the Grubbs-Brown-&-sometimes-John-McEntire lineup, producing an utterly outré collage of cut-ups and other types of tape processing. This became the "20 Songs Less" single, after which he was invited to play with the group. It was a time of flux; Brown recalls playing a Gastr show at the Metro around this time featuring himself, John McEntire, Grubbs and O"Rourke - and one of the pieces played was a Tortoise song! Throughout these shifts, Gastr del Sol"s music was never less than fully considered and composed, even in moments redolent with the suggestion of the random and the non-sequitur. Grubbs and O"Rourke made no attempt to replicate Serpentine"s arrangement of thick, scaly drones and hypnotic song-visions in their own partnership, finding Crookt, Crackt,"s sound instead in spiny, gamelan-like interactions between their (mostly acoustic) guitars, played precisely in and out of formation with bright, fleet-fingered abandon. O"Rourke"s fondness for field recordings and his capacity for tape manipulation intersected with Grubbs" sensibilities, edifying his evolving song style: written with increased sharpness and sly surreal humor, sung closer to silence. Halfway into "Work from Smoke", the sudden collapse of the sound-walls around us signals Crookt, Crackt"s major departure. From the thicket of guitars, a swell of drones and free-jazz squeals, made up of bass clarinet, vibraphone and organ, pulls the listener into an entirely other acoustic space. "Every Five Miles" derails in similarly tactile fashion: a guitar duet boils up thunderously, then fragments and spirals apart. As a free electric guitar part crops up, improbably holding the center, the acoustic space around it continues to disintegrate in ambient stereo. A wedding of folk music idioms to classical, improvised and modern compositional modes (including Gastr"s own formative post-punk mode), Crookt, Crackt, or Fly is a song-based reality steadily giving way to its alternative alchemies playing out within.

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

The latest by Andrew Clinco's acid punk alias VR SEX takes its title from an architectural phrase but more importantly refers to the warped, wicked underworld the songs both chronicle and condemn. Donning the moniker Noel Skum - an acerbic anagram of Elon Musk - Clinco vents his scorn for and fascination with the seedy, surreal margins of low-life Los Angeles, doomed to dead ends of vanity, lust, and technology. Although initially launched as an outlet for "heavier sounds" beyond Clinco's duties in new wave fantasists Drab Majesty, the project has ripened into a compelling exercise in world building, weaving themes of gritty city neofuturist sleaze within a framework of driving, distorted guitars and cathode-blasted synths. Echoes of Chrome, Wire, Minimal Man, and Sisters Of Mercy ripple through the collection but ultimately Rough Dimension charts its own twisted vision of "our unforgiving reality." Written and demoed across two weeks alone in a Marseille flat using his prized 1980's Gibson "Invader" and a laptop, Clinco then took the tracks to Strange Weather studios in Brooklyn to record with Ben Greenberg (Uniform, The Men) who helmed 2019's debut, Human Traffic Jam. The results are notably ripping, refined, and riveting. Riffs in alternate tunings chug and churn over mid-tempo drums punctuated by spikes of sci-fi electronics while the vocals swagger and spit venom ("where we walk is also where we shit / but if we bark at our reflections are we hypocrites? / impulses bleed right into our seed / where hate culminates the apple rotted on the tree"). It's a bristling mix of the melodic and the macabre, absurdist observations of fast living and desperate measures, the clock of youth ticking towards midnight as dreams unravel in Babylon. VR SEX's specialty is making these cautionary tales of psychic decay and tainted love a thrill rather than a drag. There's a sunglasses at night glamor to Clinco's choruses and solos, a wit to his black leather judgements ("what is the answer / to cancerous people / walking in my line of sight?"). The music's milieu tends towards parasites and predators but its mood skews refreshingly accelerated and amused, cruising the strip with a cigarette, watching goths and limousines crawl in gridlock beneath digital billboards. The Rough Dimension may be a cesspool, but it's home.

"Laurel Hell" ist ein Soundtrack zur Transformation. Eine Landkarte für den Ort, an dem Verletzlichkeit und Widerstandsfähigkeit, Trauer und Freude, Fehler und Transzendenz in unserer Menschlichkeit Platz finden und als würdig angesehen werden können - um letztendlich anerkannt und geliebt zu werden. "I accept it all," verspricht MITSKI. "I forgive it all." Auf "Laurel Hell" festigt MITSKI ihren Ruf als Künstlerin, die die Kraft besitzt, unsere wildesten und zwiespältigsten Erfahrungen in ein heilendes Elixier zu verwandeln. "I wrote what I needed to hear. As I've always done." Nach der Veröffentlichung von "Be The Cowboy", einem der meistgelobten Alben des Jahres 2018, das von Outlets wie Pitchfork (u.a.) zum Album des Jahres gekürt wurde, stieg MITSKI vom Kultliebling zum Indie-Star auf. Mit spürbaren Folgen: Die Schinderei des Tourlebens und die Fallstricke die mit der erhöhten Sichtbarkeit einhergingen, beeinflussten ihre Musik ebenso wie ihren Geist, die sich in der ersten Single "Working For The Knife" niederschlägt. Ein Song, wie ein Prüfstein für das Gesamtgefühl von "Laurel Hell": "I start the day lying and end with the truth / That I'm dying for the knife." "Be The Cowboy" wurde von weiblicher Stärke und Trotz angetrieben, lebte jedoch von seinem Spiel mit Masken. Wie der Berglorbeer bzw. die "laurel hell", nach dem das neue Album benannt ist, kann die öffentliche Wahrnehmung, wie das berauschende Prisma des Internets, eine verlockende Fassade bieten, hinter der sich eine tödliche Falle verbirgt. Die sich immer enger zieht, je mehr man sich anstrengt. "I got to a point, where I just knew that if I kept going this way, I would numb myself to completion." Erschöpft von diesem verzerrten Spiegel und unserer Sucht nach falschen Binaritäten, begann MITSKI, Songs zu schreiben, die die Masken abstreifen und die komplexen und oft widersprüchlichen Realitäten dahinter offenbaren. MITSKI dazu: "I needed love songs about real relationships that are not power struggles to be won or lost. I needed songs that could help me forgive both others and myself. I make mistakes all the time. I don't want to put on a front where I'm a role model, but I'm also not a bad person. I needed to create this space mostly for myself where I sat in that gray area." Die daraus entstanden Songs verkörpern genau diesen Raum. Wie die zweite Single des Albums, "The Only Heartbreaker", die gemeinsam mit Dan Wilson geschrieben wurde und der erste Song dieser Art in ihrer Diskografie ist. "The Only Heartbreaker" verbindet treibenden 80er-Pop mit einem trügerisch einfachen Text, dessen aufrichtiger Refrain ins Ironische kippt, sobald dieser "the person always messing up in the relationship, the designated Bad Guy who gets the blame," beschreibt und sich zugleich fragt, ob "the reason you're always the one making mistakes is because you're the only one trying." MITSKI schrieb viele Songs für "Laurel Hell" während und teilweise vor 2018. Das Album wurde allerdings erst im Mai 2021 final abgemischt. Es ist die längste Zeitspanne, die MITSKI jemals für ein Album gebraucht hat und für die Musikerin inmitten einer radikal veränderten Welt endete. MITSKI nahm "Laurel Hell" mit ihrem langjährigen Produzenten Patrick Hyland in der Zeit der Isolation während der Pandemie auf, als einige der Songs "slowly took on new forms and meanings, like seed to flower." Das Album als Ganzes entwickelte sich "to be more uptempo and dance-y. I needed to create something that was also a pep talk" erklärt MITSKI. Die Spannung, die zwischen ihren raffinierten, aber wehmütigen Texten und dem sprudelnden Pop-Sound der 1980er Jahre entsteht, ist eine dringend benötigte Infusion in Zeiten wie diesen und das Werk einer reifen wie unwiderstehlichen Künstlerin, die auch zu fröhlich ansteckenden Dance-Beats immer noch etwas Profundes beizutragen hat.

Anushka's third album Ancestry comes out on BBE Music as both digital and vinyl and represents a massive hitting of the duo's potential as songwriters, musicians and performers following their well received and critically acclaimed previous releases on Brownswood and Tru Thoughts respectively. Indeed Ancestry represents their best album to date and one which befits a release on one of the UK's (and the world's) premiere independent record labels. Anushka is the collaborative name for Victoria Port and Max Wheeler. The duo first met in the vibrant club, music and arts scenes in that creativity incubating south coast town that is Brighton.

With their first single, Yes Guess, gaining support from major broadcast influencers such as Gilles Peterson they released their debut album, Broken Circuit, in 2014. With major airplay support from Mary Anne Hobbs, Annie Mac, the aforementioned Gilles Peterson and others the second album Yemaya was released in 2021. On this second record they experimented with their sound, exploring darker and more complex songs and palettes. Both albums forged Anushka's sound and production values, combining a deep respect for the UK's electronic club culture mixed with Jazz and Soul. Now, with the release of Ancestry on BBE Music, the duo has created an album that furthers their sound, their songwriting, their arrangements and their production. Victoria's songwriting for Ancestry is influenced by her love of Ella Fitzgerald, Sampha, Jimmy Cliff and Georgia Anne Muldrow.

Max's approach to the production on Ancestry is driven by his own ancestral back catalogue of music from Moodymann and Theo Parrish and further back to Larry Heard, Wu Tang Clan and the 90's electronica of Tricky, Portishead and David Holmes. It definitely bears repeating that list of influences has resulted in Ancestry being Anushka's best album yet. Releasing on BBE Music, on both digital and vinyl formats, Ancestry is an album that is a must for lovers of the highly innovative, jazz and soul fuelled club sound that is part of the UK's contemporary music scene.

Forming in 2014, Fury established themselves quickly, releasing both a demo on Washington, D.C.'s Mosher Delight Records and the "Kingdom Come" EP on Boston's Triple B Records in the same calendar year. They built on the melodic legacy of Orange County by way of heavy, rhythmic, start-stop guitars and Stith's wordy and referential lyrics. Then, in 2016, came their debut LP on Triple B Records, "Paramount," which was met with respect from the hardcore community and praise from outsider critics."Failed Entertainment" documents the work, both personal and creative, undertaken since the release of "Paramount," a period of time marked by as many difficulties as successes. Stith said, "I've asked myself `Why have I done this?' and `Why do I continue to do this?' more times in the last two years than the rest of my life combined." Those eternal, existential questions form the thematic foundation of the new songs, which look past the superficial concerns about status and popularity that preoccupy so many musicians, focusing instead on life's inevitable, inescapable problems and the ways in which they can be compounded by the banal realities of art-making _ the isolation of being on tour, the pressure of being expected to somehow transform that universal angst into nice, catchy songs that provide simple lessons.