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Crave Tapes is thrilled to announce the first vinyl release on the label which will be the second album from Frankfurt's underground post-punk/dark wave band Babes of Enola Grey, Krieg und Wohlstand.
Krieg und Wohlstand sees Babes of Enola Grey follow the path of their 2021 debut, Anfang vom Ende, and take a step further into the realm of melancholic and disillusioned soundscapes. While keeping a certain retro character to the songs, Deborah Vision, Salvador Islero and Fabian van Castorp focus on quite contemporary themes, which some might call the most German obsessions:
War and prosperity.
But this is not the only reference to the band's heritage. Sometimes more, sometimes less, there are musical allusions to various German influences and contributions to (modern) music and music history. While Doppelt Frei is a nod to EBM and bands like DAF or the early Die Krupps and Wie auf Schienen as well as Die Heuschrecken pay homage to German düster punk bands like Fliehende Stürme or EA80, Panik and the title track Krieg und Wohlstand refer to the romantic German art song tradition of the 19th century (not to mention the obvious hint at a certain successful German Schlager in Die Kugeln und das Herz).
This makes Krieg und Wohlstand not only a worthy epigone of the band's debut, but also takes the album and the artistic approach to another level.
Commenting on the chosen format (12" vinyl), the band members said: "It was clear to us that we wanted to release this album on vinyl. When you look atGerman history, war and prosperity have to be seen as two sides of the same medal, or in this case of a record".

Talulah’s Tape is the debut offering from magnetic Midwest-jangle collective Good Flying Birds. Across a patchwork mixtape of stripped-down home recordings that span the independent-guitar spectrum, the band delivers colorful, intricate pop songs perched between the immediacy of DIY punk and the intimate sweetness of twee. Breakbeats, memes, and noise glue everything together, making the album feel as chronically online as it is timeless.

Originally released on cassette in January 2025 by Midwest-punk legend Martin Meyers’s Rotten Apple label, the tape sold more than 300 copies in under a month and quickly became an out-of-print and coveted item. Meyers called it “certified catnip for popheads.” Now, with a refined track list and a fresh master from Greg Obis, Talulah’s Tape returns on LP and CD via Carpark and Smoking Room in October 2025.

While production and approach vary, a through-line of sensitive self-contemplation rests on bright, scrappy guitars and hyperactive melodic bass. Opener “Down on Me” rides a buoyant bass line while jangling guitars frame reflections on overcoming trauma: “I see you in the mirror every time I cry / I hear your voice every time I try.” Next, the guitars trade twinkling counter-melodies on “I Care for You,” pairing sugary, lovestruck lyrics with effervescent strums: “You catch me when I fall / You build me up so tall.”

The rosy grin occasionally twists into a wicked smirk. “Dynamic” warns, “You used to paint the face, but now you’re just the clown,” while “Glass” asks, “Is it lonely at the top when everyone follows the trend, and you hold the pen?” Both tracks brim with sparkling guitar interplay. By the closing, nearly five-minute “Last Straw,” Good Flying Birds stand far beyond conventional indie-pop or 4-track punk, unveiling a roller-coaster of unpredictable changes, vocal harmonies, and instrumental cross-talk.

Altogether, Talulah’s Tape is a pastel-yellow, candy-coated shell filled with thoughtful juxtapositions and melodic experiments. Standing on the same ground as idiosyncratic songwriters like Connie Converse and Daniel Johnston, Good Flying Birds find sweetness in sadness, tear stains on a colorful flower-print couch. Simultaneously, it’s packed with the scratchy guitars and vibrant rhythms of Scottish guitar groups like The Pastels, Orange Juice, and Josef K. It’s a tremendous opening statement from a band just getting started.

“I wanted to explore how a big band can cry — not only through sorrow, but through joy, tenderness, and release. Music can hold grief and celebration at the same time, and Paid To Cry lives in that space.”
Nils Berg has been a cornerstone of the Swedish jazz scene since the turn of the millennium. Known internationally as an innovative bandleader and collaborator, this release places the spotlight — for the first time — on Berg’s work as a composer for large ensemble.
Paid To Cry is the result of an intensive collaboration with the Norrbotten Big Band, one of Scandinavia’s most acclaimed jazz orchestras. Drawing melodic clarity and emotional directness from composers such as Burt Bacharach and Kurt Weill, while embracing the raw courage of Björk and Sun Ra, and the pulsating minimalism of Steve Reich, the music forms a sound world that feels both familiar and entirely its own.
This is contemporary big band music without nostalgia: physical, vulnerable, and expansive. Written with deep trust in the individual voices of the ensemble, the compositions allow space for both collective force and intimate expression. And what an ensemble to breathe life — and tears — into this music.
With fifteen musicians moving as one organism, Paid To Cry carries enough air, rhythm, and resonance to lift the listener far beyond genre boundaries. It is music that dares to be emotional without explanation, and powerful without grandstanding — inviting the listener to feel first, and understand later.

Chris Acker’s latest collection of songs, Famous Lunch, is in his words, a “growing pains album.” When writing the record, the New Orleans' based folk musician found himself hunting for a voice that wasn’t just an imitation of the one he’d been using on the last 30 songs he’d made. “At the same time, I worked hard to find a certain voice for myself over the previous 3 records and I didn’t want to abandon that.”

While the album finds him continuing to transcribe life’s fleeting and provocative banalities with refreshing grace, the songs on Famous Lunch are intentionally more absurd, stylizing his lyricism as both poetic and disarming simultaneously— commencing with “Sh*t Surprise”—an earworm with a vernacular that stays true to its title. Inspired by George Saunders and Sasha Pearl (and wanting to make a song that sounds like Eagles saying the word “sh*t” over and over), “Sh*t Surprise” is the most Chris Acker song possible, in that its earnestness arrives in spades and comes varnished with a one-of-a-kind, spectacular gnarliness. “We’d match our breath in the upstairs room and we’d hold together ‘til I smelled like you,” Acker sings, before nose-diving into that unforgettable chorus about stepping in a smelly, disgusting pile of sh*t.

More than anything else, Famous Lunch finds Chris Acker at his most sentimental and grateful, as he sings about Bunn coffee machines, gas pumps smelling like “the underside of a fingernail” in August, “10-inching” bread, stealing country club lawn-mower motors, father-son fables, impatient buffet lines, and a broom that “hasn’t been used since the last time I used it.” Acker’s eye for detail remains, and his lexicon includes phrasings that spin out like a hypnotic wash cycle. Seeing the world through his eyes, language remains something worth falling into—growing pains and all.

In his 1954 book The Doors of Perception, Aldous Huxley theorized that every person lives and experiences life on their own island universe. We can try to explain our experience to others using language, symbols, and art, but we'll never be sure that we're feeling something precisely the same as anyone else. This line of thinking has become a source of inspiration for many prolific artists. Now, Cincinnati-based producer Jason Grimez is inviting us to hear what it sounds like on an island of his own creation. The Island of Dr. Bionic is the third installment in Dr. Bionic's Terrestrial Radio series. Due out 5/2/2025 on Chiefdom Records, it's a collection of instrumental fusion for fans of hip-hop, jazz, funk, and beyond. Grimez is the producer, mixer, and mastermind behind Dr. Bionic. He's a Cincinnati-based creator with a deep understanding of 90s hip-hop and DJ culture, and he draws inspiration from music of all kinds. Grimez' ever-growing catalog is best described as organic groove. He calls on a rotating cast of veteran musicians to join him at his home studio to write, record, and try out new ideas. Long-time listeners will find some familiar names in the liner notes, for good reason. 'Life Span' (track 14) features a head-bobbing beat from Marvin Hawkins. Nick Brown is responsible for the dreamy Rhodes performance on 'Shell Of The Soul' (track 11). If Charlie Suit's unforgettable sax performance on 'The Path Of Stars' (track 16) is stuck in your head for more than 3 days, please consult Dr. Bionic. Once the recording sessions are complete, the real production work begins. "We get together and record a ton of stuff, and then I'll go back and cut it and mix it together," Grimez explained. "It all finds a home over time."

Doubting all the time. Fearing all the time. Our Darkness descends upon Dark Entries with a reissue of Anne Clark’s epochal proto-house masterpiece from 1984. As a young poet, Clark found herself drawn to London’s emerging punk scene. She became acquainted with Psychic TV affiliate David Harrow, with whom she would collaborate on 1983’s Changing Places and 1984’s Joined Up Writing. “Our Darkness,” off the latter album, was released as a single on Ink Records that same year, and became an underground club hit. It’s a singular piece of music: Clark’s lyrics, delivered with equal parts muscular confidence and unease, speak of urban alienation and heartbreak, while Harrow’s production pummels the listener with hydraulic beats and gloom-laced arpeggios. The song’s spirit would prove influential on both the early Chicago house and Detroit techno scenes, where mechanistic funk and existential despair could catalyse dancefloor mayhem. This reissue offers three versions of “Our Darkness”: the original 12” remix, the Razormaid mix, and a previously unreleased dub version uncovered by David Harrow. Also included is the extended mix of “Sleeper in Metropolis,” another dancefloor hit of Clark’s, as well as the elegiac “Poem for a Nuclear Romance.” The record includes an insert with liner notes and lyrics. “Our Darkness” channels timeless longing and contemporary dismay, a classic overdue for a little light shed upon it.

Transversales Disques proudly presents the first official LP reissue of "Deserted Palace", studio album written & performed by Jean Michel Jarre in 1972, during his work experience at G.R.M. (Groupe de Recherches Musicales).

In 1971, an order was placed with producer Francis Dreyfus to provide sound for public places such as airports and libraries. He decided to pass the project on to Jean-Michel, who had recently been signed by his record company.

These fifteen tracks are made with only two synthesizers (EMS VCS3 & Farfisa organ) in an experimental and very minimal style.

"It was a crazy album, totally homemade, with rhythms that I made in my student room, with a minimum of equipment and at the same time electronic sounds that I stole from the GRM where I went at night after stealing the keys to the studios. It is a pirate record, in every sense of the word, in which we find what I did afterwards.” JMJ

Audio restored & remastered
Including cuesheet poster/ Limited edition of 500 copies

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

"Static Shock out here still pushing the finest in international punk and hardcore. This time with a smoking debut from Oslo’s Draümar. Their influences are from the same city block with groundwork laid by groups like So Much Hate and Svart Framtid. Unfortunately, the songs are blasting away at the same monumental enemies albeit with different faces. The never-ending nuclear question, societal unease, genocide, and a steadfast approach to not turn away from the constant horror of today’s world make up the tapestry of this 12”.
The intro and outro track nod and update John Carpenter’s Assault On Precinct 13 setting the stage for a flurry of cold, desperate Norwegian punk - instantly identifiable and as potent as ever. Indeed, they’ve scraped the blood, sweat and victory off the floors of Blitz and distilled it into a Molotov aimed directly at a world in constant crisis. These are chords and context against a rising fascist world where screaming is not limp response but also tactic, celebration and affirmation. Aside from the fury contained in the original tracks you get a bonus treat in the dual vocal attack on the Bannlyst song ‘Herrene’ which features original Bannlyst vocalist, Finn Erik Tangen - instantly identifiable and still just as pissed."

Yellow Vinyl

Blue Lake reveals his most ambitious album yet, which finds its visionary creator Jason Dungan harnessing the collective alchemy of his band, with ten spirited tracks that resonate with a powerful directness, evoking an ecological connection to the wider world.

The solo project (Blue Lake), now on its fifth album, found its name and inspiration via Don Cherry's 1974 live album, sparking a creative epiphany in Dungan, who set off on a path into his own untapped sonic world, guided by what he cited as the emotional potential found within non-lyrical composition. With a newly inspired ethos aimed toward creating direct and simple instrumental music imbued with a deep sense of feeling, Jason began combining an array of musical elements that gave rise to his highly revered album 'Sun Arcs' (2023), with its "ornate, zither-led lattices" (Pitchfork, Best New Music). Conceived in the blissful isolation of a Swedish cabin set in the woods, this was music that soundtracked spring in full bloom. Then, in contrast to the solitary approach of 'Sun Arcs', the highly lauded mini-album 'Weft' (2025) began to set the tone for a more band-oriented approach to delivering the Blue Lake sound. Jason had by this time experienced a special collective energy with his band during a swathe of live performances, which he then sought to harness and distill on 'The Animal', leading him to take the project into a traditional recording studio (The Village) and its limitless potential along with his gifted cohorts.

'The Animal' at its core vividly celebrates human collaboration and is deeply rooted in a sense of community and non-hierarchical connectivity. The group's creative alchemy transcends outwards and beyond the musicians performing together, to summon an inclusive, existential and ecological connection to the wider world and its inhabited spaces. The album contemplates the idea of the human as an animal as Dungan explains: "I'm quite fascinated in thinking about humans more as part of the animal environment and not as something that's so separated into a "human" realm, or sitting on top of a hierarchical pyramid. So the Animal is also me, or us - that we are just living, existing, in the same way as a piece of moss or a sparrow or a cow.

'The Animal' is a form of musical metamorphosis, still acoustic, yet more amplified, elevating it to new dimensions. The Blue Lake project takes on a new lease of life to encompass collaboration with Jason Dungan bound in a universal connectivity, resulting in his most ambitious album to date. A harmonious rejoicing that cements his reputation as a transformative presence in contemporary music.

DYING VICTIMS PRODUCTIONS is proud to present AGGRESSIVE PERFECTOR’s highly anticipated second album, Come Creeping Fiends, on CD and vinyl LP formats. Released in 2019 via DYING VICTIMS, AGGRESSIVE PERFECTOR’s Havoc at the Midnight Hour debut album introduced this British power-trio with no small amount of sleazy, Satanic fanfare. While their background may jointly lie in black metal, the three un-gentlemen of AGGRESSIVE PERFECTOR held high heavy metal done the ancient way: classic Tank, early Raven, Warfare, and of course the almighty Venom as well as modern torchbearers like Midnight, Whipstriker, and Power From Hell. Unsurprisingly, the album garnered international acclaim. Eclipsing that feat is the band’s second album, Come Creeping Fiends.

Truly titled once again, Come Creeping Fiends comprises nine tracks of heavy metal for the insane, forged in the Manchester morgue. Raging like a ravenous beast, summoning ancient ones, and agonizing with morbid doom, AGGRESSIVE PERFECTOR cover a lot of ground here, but like the rotting undead that inspired it, this second album somehow holds together. The same black magic that made Havoc at the Midnight Hour a highlight six(-six-six) years ago is here again, only this time with a higher kill count and hit rate. Cleaner and crisper in execution but somehow darker and dirtier in its content, Come Creeping Fiends offers highlights at every crooked turn; tunes like “Strange Companion,” “Fiend in You,” and lead track “Dead Undead” will have all the witches dancing. Needless to say, fans of maniacal, EVIL heavy metal music and horror movies will find a lot to love. The wait for AGGRESSIVE PERFECTOR’s second album might have been long, but Come Creeping Fiends will prove to be worth it…

JeGong, known for their immersive, rhythm-driven explorations of Krautrock and experimental sound design, now take an exhilarating leap into brighter, nostalgically stranger territory. `Gomi Kuzu Can` is an electrifying journey through Kraut, Post- and Experimental Rock, delivered with the analog warmth of the '70s. Across eleven meticulously crafted tracks, JeGong embrace their roots while fearlessly expanding into neon-lit, beat-driven worlds where kinetic rhythms meet playful sonic futurism. It is music built for movement, contemplation, and the ecstatic strangeness of possibility. Their approach borrows the endurance and patience of minimalism, but they subvert minimalism's austerity with grit, distortion, and physicality. The result is music that feels alive in motion: constantly shifting, tightening, unfurling, and mutating even when its core pulse remains unbroken. "We wanted to create a `70s sound as the recording foundation - a sonic aesthetic that sets a mood through warm tape saturation. Like a kind of memory box where you can store recollections, for example from childhood, when you would spend hours by yourself watching TV and listening to the radio, often both at the same time." (JeGong) `Gomi Kuzu Can`, is hand-built, lovingly assembled from circuitry, intuition, and raw creative impulse. This tactile quality is precisely what makes the album's danceability so impactful. In blending organic rhythm with retro-electronic brightness, they've created a sound that is both familiar and refreshingly new. In the end, JeGong's sound is less a genre and more a landscape: rugged, hypnotic, austere, and strangely spiritual. It is music built on the bones of rhythm and the electricity of repetition, crafted with the precision of engineers and the instincts of explorers. FOR FANS OF Neu!, Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Swans, Mogwai, Sonic Youth, John Zorn The single colour edition comes as Glass Clear vinyl!

Hagridden' is the second full-length from Scottish sisters Bratakus. Fiercely political and unapologetic, the duo made up of siblings Brèagha Cuinn (guitar and vocals) and Onnagh Cuinn (bass and vocals) deliver ten songs that combine garage rock and feminist punk with the same deft poise as forerunners The Distillers, The Donnas, Bikini Kill and X-Ray Spex.
In 2019, a BBC news report called Bratakus "the UK's most remote punk band". Formed in 2015 outside a small whiskey village called Tomintoul in the Scottish Highlands, the sisters (then 14 and 8 years old) have maintained a DIY ethos in everything they've done. Recording at home, self-releasing music, booking their own tours and with no drummer available locally, the duo turned their limitation into a statement, performing live with a drum machine and cementing their reputation as an uncompromising force within the punk scene.
'Hagridden' marks a new beginning for the two sisters, introducing real drums to the recording process (including a guest appearance from Chris Dangerous of Swedish rock band The Hives) plus a more focused approach to songwriting. The message and music are just as loud, but the execution is now deadlier than ever.

The Fall were an English post-punk band, formed in Manchester in 1976. The band existed in some form ever since, and was essentially built around its founder and only constant member Mark E. Smith. Initially associated with the punk movement of the late 1970s, the group's music went through several stylistic changes over the years, but is often characterised by an abrasive guitar-driven sound and frequent use of repetition, and was always underpinned by Smith's distinctive vocals and often cryptic lyrics. The band was noted for its prolific output: and released over 25 studio albums, and more than triple that counting live albums and other releases. They have never achieved widespread public success beyond a handful of minor hit singles in the late 1980s, but maintained a strong cult following. The band were long-associated with BBC disc jockey John Peel, who championed them from early on in their career and cited The Fall as his favourite band, famously explaining, "They are always different; they are always the same.

Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock & Roll music. I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself. Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.

Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock & Roll music. I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself. Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.

Thomas Peter debuts on Hallow Ground with »changing bodies,« an album inspired by the resonance and reaction of objects with and to sound. The Swiss composer and sound artist has worked with sounds generated with various materials, field recordings, and an array of analogue and digital synthesizers to create five ever-shifting pieces full of twists and turns in which even silence plays a significant role. Peter composed and recorded the album over the course of four years in an inherently physical process, led by both his intuition and his perception—what you hear on »changing bodies« is an artist intently listening to the material world around him.

Peter laid the foundation for »changing bodies« by making field recordings wherever he went, whether in closed rooms, cities, or rural environments, while also recording organic-sounding material with different synthesizers as well as working with objects made of wood, stone, or metal. »I viewed all these sounds as a kind of language that I was trying to understand,« he says. »I paid close attention to differences between sounds in motion, rhythmic patterns, and dense textures.« He further describes this as an inherently corporeal endeavour, quite literally becoming all ears and internalising the different sounds.

This process of concretion led to one of abstraction when Peter translated the source material and its psycho-physical reverberations into new musical structures. He applied repetition, densification, and recombination to unlock their true potential. Across its five tracks, the album sets literally unheard-of sounds into motion, creating intricate dynamics without ever overwhelming its listeners. »changing bodies« was born out of listening intently and physically.
It is recommended to listen to it in the exact same way.

Bruno Silva, operating here under his restless Serpente alias, returns with Visita do Fogo — a sharp, stripped-back and incendiary counterpoint to the drifting, dream-jazz abstractions of Dias da Aranha. If that record floated like smoke, this one crackles and snaps like dry wood.

Visita do Fogo finds Silva stepping back into the heat of his beat-driven origins, embracing a raw, forward-leaning approach that feels closer to his live detonation than a studio construction. The record is built on stark materials — drum fragments, percussive jolts, scorched-earth loops — all manipulated with his unmistakable “screw” instincts: micro-cuts, sudden pivots, rhythmic false floors and the sense that the track might turn itself inside-out at any moment.
Rather than smoothing edges or leaning into atmospherics, Serpente doubles down on urgency. Each piece moves through the record with a chop-and-go physicality, a kind of ritual propulsion that never settles into comfort. Silva’s rhythmic language remains entirely his own: crooked but precise, feral yet meticulous, rooted in dance structures but constantly mutating away from them.

Visita do Fogo is less a sequel to Dias da Aranha than a flare shot into the same night sky — brighter, hotter, and designed to leave afterimages. It captures an artist burning forward, shedding everything unnecessary, trusting the flame.

Not long after Strong Persuader became an unexpected crossover hit in 1986 - which was hard to imagine then and seems like a near impossibility now - Cray decided that he would rather pursue the sound of Stax and Hi soul than be a full-fledged bluesman. He punctuated his songs with stinging licks not dissimilar to Albert King, but the sound was closer to O.V. Wright. But what really separated Cray from his forefathers is that instead of getting dirty and gritty, he stayed classy and tasteful. After 25 years and 14 albums, Robert Cray has been mining the same low-key, mellow Memphis soul-blues groove for well over two-thirds of his career. He's found his sound and he's sticking to it. Now for the first time ever available on vinyl Twenty, his 14th album; a thoroughly pleasant listen indeed, it pack's a punch, and has just all the right ingredients. Twenty is available as a limited numbered edition of 750 copies on crystal clear 180 gram vinyl and includes an insert.