Search:the used

Coil’s 17-minute soundtrack for »How to Destroy Angels«, performed on January 19, 1984: ritual music ›for the accumulation of male sexual energy‹, structured around magickal and numerological concepts.

Throughout history man has made and used music for two distinct and separate purposes. In recent years, particularly since the advent of sound recording, the most popular use of music has been for entertainment - the temporary amusement and distraction of as large a number as possible. As a consequence, many people tend to overlook its more fundamental and ancient use as a tool for affecting man's body and spirit. The many varieties of religious music from around the world contain a vast quantity of clues to the way in which sound can affect the physical and mental state of the serious listener, yet many find their associations with religion itself too difficult a stigma to overlook in their appreciation of the sound and its potential, for its own sake.

On this record, hopefully the first in a series, we have tried to produce sound which has a real, practical and beneficial power in this modern Era. Specifically, it is intended as an accumulator of male sexual energy. Although we make neither claims nor rules for its use, we do suggest that for maximum potency it should only be played in circumstances that exclusively male and/or onanistic in nature. What these are is entirely up to you.

The execution of the piece was structured around concepts we felt would work for us - in this case magickal and numerological rather than conventionally musical in form. One image or symbol which we drew upon that may be useful to bear in mind is that of Mars, often indicated by the male symbol.

Should this music have any power, over and above the banal and transitory titillation achieved by most records available now, it is a positive and beneficial power to be used and controlled by the listener, as he desires.

Coil’s 17-minute soundtrack for »How to Destroy Angels«, performed on January 19, 1984: ritual music ›for the accumulation of male sexual energy‹, structured around magickal and numerological concepts.

Throughout history man has made and used music for two distinct and separate purposes. In recent years, particularly since the advent of sound recording, the most popular use of music has been for entertainment - the temporary amusement and distraction of as large a number as possible. As a consequence, many people tend to overlook its more fundamental and ancient use as a tool for affecting man's body and spirit. The many varieties of religious music from around the world contain a vast quantity of clues to the way in which sound can affect the physical and mental state of the serious listener, yet many find their associations with religion itself too difficult a stigma to overlook in their appreciation of the sound and its potential, for its own sake.

On this record, hopefully the first in a series, we have tried to produce sound which has a real, practical and beneficial power in this modern Era. Specifically, it is intended as an accumulator of male sexual energy. Although we make neither claims nor rules for its use, we do suggest that for maximum potency it should only be played in circumstances that exclusively male and/or onanistic in nature. What these are is entirely up to you.

The execution of the piece was structured around concepts we felt would work for us - in this case magickal and numerological rather than conventionally musical in form. One image or symbol which we drew upon that may be useful to bear in mind is that of Mars, often indicated by the male symbol.

Should this music have any power, over and above the banal and transitory titillation achieved by most records available now, it is a positive and beneficial power to be used and controlled by the listener, as he desires.

Belgian artist Jennifur announces MAZDA, an album inspired by long car rides, emotional transitions, and the strange beauty of existing between places, people, and versions of yourself.

Musically, MAZDA moves fluidly between genres and emotional textures, blending electronic love songs, indie rock structures, UK bass influences, cinematic electronica, and flashes of classical composition.

The project began when Jennifur's brother sent him a playlist called MAZDA, filled with songs their father used to play in the car. What started as a nostalgia gesture quickly became the emotional blueprint for the album.

While writing MAZDA, Jennifur realized he was unknowingly creating the soundtrack to a fictional romcom film that existed only in his imagination. Rather than avoiding clichés like love, heartbreak, growing older, or transition, he chose to embrace them wholeheartedly.

"In a car, you exist in a kind of in-between space," Jennifur explains. "You've left something behind, but you haven't arrived yet. That feeling became the entire record."

The album opener, From A to B, sets the emotional framework for the entire project. Its extended introduction mirrors the exact moment you pull out of your street and realisethat something new has begun.

Highlights include "I Need You To Hold On", written for Jennifur's brother as a message of encouragement. The song "I Once Had a Dream Where I Could Fly" originated from a conversation with his father about recurring dreams of flying. Meanwhile, "From The Sideline" confronts a quieter existential fear, becoming a coming-of-age anthem for anyone who suddenly realizes they have become more of a spectator than an active participant in their own life.

Tracks like "In The Sun" bring a softer, almost cinematic intimacy to the album. Written around the image of spending one final Sunday at the seaside with someone who is seriously ill, the song captures the beauty and fragility of fleeting moments. The closing track "The Dialogue Before We Left" serves as the emotional final scene of the album.

"For me, it's the moment after a long drive when you turn off the engine but stay seated for a minute," Jennifur explains. "You realise something happened. You listened to my story, and we travelled from A to B together."

Annie Bloch’s luvt is a quiet reorientation of the organ: away from its monumental image and ritualised spaces, towards the delicate mechanics of touch, air and friction. Across seven compositions marking her debut on OOH-sounds, the Cologne based organist and composer turns to the chest organ, a small and mobile counterpart to its larger relative, traditionally used to accompany Baroque music. On luvt, Bloch limits herself to just three stops of wooden pipes, using the instrument’s sensitive keyboard, mechanical subtle effects to crystalline sound world shaped by meditative strategies and fanciful detailing. Bloch’s approach sits at the crossroads of modern composition, new psychedelia, ambient and minimalist traditions, with occasional traces of an avant pop sensibility, while keeping the unique sound and physical character of the chest organ at its core.

The title luvt derives from the German luven, “to turn to the wind” and Luft, “air”, a gesture Bloch extends beyond the mechanics of the chest organ towards what cannot quite be grasped or put into words. Bloch follows the organ into quieter, more intimate territory, letting its monumental potential fade into the background while exploring the sensual its sound. luvt is a gentle and immersive meditation on the sound of the chest organ, revealing the instrument’s contemporary relevance while pushing its expressive possibilities into new territory.

Annie Bloch (*1994) is an organist, composer and songwriter based in Cologne, Germany. As an organist she performs solo and in alternating constellations with an improvisational and situational approach. The reality that every pipe organ as well as the space it speaks in is unique, is something she not only adapts to, but actively works with. The resulting composed improvisations explore states of change. Her pieces focus on the in-between-spaces, that are already leaning towards the next event. Searching for the ambivalences in a sound and lingering on them, her music resists singular truths. The musical material she draws from is informed by her engagement with the experimental music scene, but also by compositional styles of pop and ambient music. She has performed at Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival, Orgelpark Amsterdam, Philharmonie Köln, Moers Festival and others. As an indie-folk artist Annie Bloch released the album „I DEPEND“ (Papercup Records) with a chamber orchestral band, that she regularly performs with.

Garefowl is a project connected to the archipelago of St Kilda, Scotland. Ewan Macdonald and his father Murdo, relatives of one of the men who killed the last Great Auk (Garefowl), conceived the project to reflect on and mark this family history. Garefowl is an international collective of musicians combining strings and electronics: Nathan Bontrager (viola da gamba/harmonium/banjo), Stuart Graham (bouzouki/harmonica/harmonium), Chris Jones (concertina/mandolin), Ewan Macdonald (fiddle/smallpipe drone), Richard O’Flynn (island sounds/percussion/XRD drones), Jess Whelligan (cello).

Things That Vanish was recorded on Hirta, the main island of St Kilda, at night. The soundscapes of Hirta breathe across the record: a quiet rolling swell of winds, waves, birds, and the otherworldly thrum of the snipe. Taking influence from the traditional folk music of St Kilda, the tunes on the record are inspired by the threatened seabirds of the islands. The band were intrigued by the folk stories around these birds, and how they often are depicted to imbue a primal, dark and haunting nature. In such tales, the birds retain a quality akin to a sea monster: preying upon calves and sheep, and believed to be the pelagic souls of drowned sailors or the cursed spirits of cruel captains.

No synthesizers were used on the recording. Instead, the production draws entirely on sampled and processed field and hydrophone recordings collected on St Kilda. Additionally, drones were created through a process pioneered by Richard O’Flynn and Joe Gardner. Rock or bone samples are analysed using X-ray diffraction (XRD), which creates a spectrum with peaks corresponding to the sample’s chemical composition; this spectrum can then be mapped to sine waves, forming a drone.

“Neither from here nor from there” is often used to describe migrant identities in territorial terms. In the case of Siete Catorce, it works better temporally: his music has always been so far ahead of its moment that it ultimately carved out a space of its own within both Latin American and global electronic music.

Born in Mexicali and shaped between the Bay Area and northern Mexico, his musical identity emerged through hip hop, dubstep, and the independent borderland scenes. After several years in Mexico City — without a clear place inside the local circuit — he created his own space through his music, developing a distinctive DJ/live set and a singular vision of contemporary Mexican electronic music, becoming a key figure within the city’s most forward-thinking underground.

In 2026, he releases El Valle, his first album in nearly three years. The record moves through different currents of electronic music — ambient, techno, cumbia, and tribal — filtered through a unique rhythmic language marked by syncopation, unpredictable breaks, and a constant tension between restraint and energy.

The album opens with “Mexicali,” alongside Andre Pereda, a tribal track stripped down to its percussive essence, evoking the genre through an ambient and synthetic approach. From there, “Aragón” and “El Rancho” progressively increase the tempo and intensity, combining cadenced phrases with minimalist tribal beats and unexpected turns.

In the second half of the album, now moving through territories of 140 BPM and beyond, tracks like “Montecarlo 1” and “Tierra Roja” drift between futuristic bass music and large-scale techno structures. This is followed by the 8-minute epic “East LA,” where Siete Catorce expands the energy of syncopated techno before releasing it into a pre-Hispanic tribal journey with flute and all the drums required for the occasion.

The closing section arrives with “Tlatelolco,” accelerating into an epic cumbia infused with trance references, and “Los Pinos,” a direct and forceful finale sustained by some of the album’s most precise sound design.

More than genres, Siete Catorce’s work is defined by meticulous sound design and an exceptional rhythmic sensibility — qualities that have established him as one of the most respected drum programmers of his generation.

When everything just aligns… then it feels like it is meant to be. I think we have all experienced that feeling; a feeling of completeness and that ‘full circle’ moment. Nihil Young lands his debut album packed full or memories stemming from the day he met his wife, to more recent times and the birth of his first child.

‘Compass’ takes you on a real journey of melodic music expertly written and crafted by Nihil from instruments all through to lyrics and songwriting – he has used all of his skills on this body of work – and he does not disappoint! AT ALL!

The album features collaborations alongside Rowland Giles, Leo Wood, Lasada, Jordan Arts, FRDRK, Adriana Stone, TYGR TYGR and more… Each track sounding as special as the last. THIS IS COMPASS….

This is Nihil Young … This is REALPROG

Often credited as the father of multi-media theatre, Alwin Nikolais (1910-1993) took complete creative control over his productions - including cutting-edge approaches to lighting and costume that transformed human bodies into shifting sculptural shapes, while also composing wildly innovative electro-acoustic and synth-based audio as accompaniment.

After initially experimenting with musique concrète and tape manipulation (as demonstrated on the 1959 LP Choreosonic Music of the New Dance Theatre of Alwin Nikolais) Nikolais became the first owner of Robert Moog's synthesizer at the Audio Engineering Society convention in New York in late 1964. Relying heavily on the Moog and later the Synclavier synth/sampler, these 21 tracks document Nikolais' highly-prescient compositions across the mid 1960s through to the late 1980s - existing not only as extensions of his other-worldly choreographic productions, but standalone pieces of foundational mid-century American electronic and experimental music.

"Born in Southington, Connecticut in 1910, Nikolais’s early years and early career were in acting, music and puppetry. It was not until the late 1930s that he began his work as dancer/choreographer in Hartford, Connecticut, where he was commissioned by the Avery Memorial Theatre, a part of the Wadsworth Atheneum, to create an evening-length work to the music of Ernst Krenek. Previously his work and study as a pianist-organist found him accompanying silent films. This sort of accompaniment required from the musician not only a playing skill but also a versatility in improvisation, matching movement to sound, and evoking mood to situation.

Nik was drawn initially to dance by his involvement with the percussion scores used by the illustrious early twentieth century German dancer Mary Wigman. In trying to learn more about percussion, he was lured into dance class and thus his career began. His development of music and dance occurred simultaneously. His introduction to the twelve-tone technique opened his mind to the expanding areas of atonal music, and his dealing with music as sound per se. In 1948, after being appointed director of the Henry Street Playhouse in New York, Nikolais formed the Playhouse Dance Company, later known as the Nikolais Dance Theater, and began his aesthetic orientation toward dance as a study of motion. By the 1950s, he had ceased creating literal dances and began his explorations and eventual milieu as an abstractionist.

Sound became an important part of his abstract theatre. For his first dances, which involved his new thinking of dance as both a visual and kinetic art, he used live percussion scores in which he directed his dancers to play instruments of all nature. There was a combination of children’s toy instruments as well as harsh and resonant automobile brake drums, and other pitched auto parts which he also used to accompany classes. Once he installed his own tape recording machines, he quickly used the limited range these instruments provided in a new way, slowing and increasing speed and reversing sound. He also made the sounds adhere to the choreographic structure (not the other way around), thereby giving the dance its independence from the musical phrasing. But the real need remained: the search for new sound. Nik made a sound library, recording noises and percussion and vocal sounds, which the French aptly called musique concrète. Needless to say, he became a master at splicing bits and pieces.

From 1956 to 1962 Nikolais composed eleven major scores for his theatre pieces using such techniques. In 1963, James Seawright, who at the time was assisting Nik in his productions and also working at the Columbia-Princeton Center for Electronic Music, recorded a sound bank for the production Imago (1963). With this material, Nikolais created his first synthesizer score. Imago won the Paris Grand Prix in 1968 and launched the Nikolais Dance Theatre towards its national and primarily international acclaim.

During the same period, Seawright came to Nik and told him of a young man who had invented and constructed a simplified synthesizer and insisted that Nik visit the electronic fair currently being held in New York. Nik did so and met Robert Moog. He was completely taken by the new machine and after making some suggestions to Moog, (which Moog made), Nik bought the inventor’s first machine with the aid of a Guggenheim Fellowship. Moog himself was astonished by what his machine could produce for Nik. This machine was later acquired by the Museum of Musical Instruments at the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor as the first Moog synthesizer. The Synclavier was Nik’s next source of sound and since the mid-1970s remained the major instrument in the Nikolais soundroom.

Alwin Nikolais has been honored and awarded throughout the world. He has received the French Legion of Honor, the Kennedy Center Honors, National Medal of the Arts, two Guggenheim Fellowships, as well as Mellon, Ford, and Rockefeller grants. He has been a recipient of NEA grants since 1966, been awarded five honorary doctorates, all for his remarkable achievements in Dance Theater. His genius has influenced several generations of artists."
—Murray Louis

The Nu’rons were a family group consisting of two sets of brothers and cousins, the four young men in question being brothers Daryl Howard and Raymond Gibson (Daryl’s mother registered him under his father’s surname of Howard and Raymond under her maiden name of Gibson) together with Otho Bateman and Charles Bateman. They were all born and raised in Salem, New Jersey and from the age of ten and eleven began singing with a fifth member and Gibson brother Rudolph as a group called The Gospel 5. They eventually decided to crossover to secular music and as a group known for their energetic dance routines they came up with the new performing name of ‘The Nu’rons’ (taken from the word ‘Neuron’ which is a cell that transmits nerve impulses). However Rudolph was soon to leave the group due to physical illness. Also Daryl Howard and Charles Bateman had also been part of a working group known as The Devotions prior to becoming The Nu-Ron’s.Following hours of practice The Nu’rons eventually felt confident enough to put their own shows together and began to perform at local dances and parties around New Jersey and Philadelphia, often being used as a non-paid warm up act for bigger named artists. They moved between several different managers including Jimmy Bishop (Duo Dynamic Productions) until they came under the tutelage of WDAS radio DJ Georgie Woods (his wife Gilda, being the owner of the Philadelphia Gil, Dion and Top & Bottom record Labels). It was Georgie who introduced them to Manny Campbell who in turn invited them to an audition at his and partner Charles Bowen’s Emandolynn Music studio in Chester P.A. The song The Nu’rons chose to audition with was the self penned “I’m A Loner”, the audition went well, as during late January/early February of 1970 Manny and Charles took The Nu’rons into the Sigma Sound Studio’s with Tom Bell and the TSOP musicians to record “I’m A Loner” and “All My Life” which was released on the Nu-Ron label in April of the same year. The two studio takes presente don this release came short after the band moved on from the collaboration with producer Emanuel Campbell to take music matters in their own hands. Beside recording "Disco Hustle" to be part of the disco boom in Philly of the times, they recorded also “You Came Thru”, a rough yet beautiful heavy bassline driven soul funk recording, and the just amazing “Hurry Up Tomorrow”, here presented in one of the original Studio takes.

‘Va Va Voom’ – “Turbo-driven melodies and bittersweet vignettes”, The Times – was the debut album from Cinerama but, of course, not the debut from the band’s protagonist – David Gedge. Originally released in 1998, it was David’s first musical project outside of The Wedding Present, who, by then, had released five albums and established themselves as one of the UK’s most uncompromising and influential indie rock bands.

To be released in three formats, this celebratory re-imagining of ‘Va Va Voom’ sees David revisiting that remarkable debut. The Deluxe Edition consists of two coloured vinyl LPs and two CDs containing both a full studio re-recording of the original album together with a live recording of the album from August 2023, which can also be viewed on an accompanying DVD. A Double CD + DVD set contains both these recordings, along with the aforementioned DVD, while a Picture Disc also features the studio re-recording. All sets boast stunning new artwork.“In 1997, I took a break from being in The Wedding Present and began exploring the idea of writing songs on my own at home, using the new technology that had recently become available. That gave me the freedom to explore writing in the style of different kinds of music, such as the classic pop records of the 1960s and 1970s and the work of film composers like John Barry and Ennio Morricone. I used samplers and sequencers for the demos and session musicians in the studio, so there wasn’t a Cinerama ‘band’, as such, until we started playing live after ‘Va Va Voom’ had been released. Last year I decided to mark the 25th anniversary of that release by playing the album in full at my annual Brighton festival, ‘At The Edge Of The Sea’. I was struck by how different ‘Va Va Voom’ sounded, being played by a live band as opposed to those studio session musicians – there’s more vibrancy and energy – so I decided to re-record it!” - David Gedge

The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is a 2010 fantasy-adventure film based on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1952), the third novel in C. S. Lewis’ fantasy series The Chronicles of Narnia. It is also the third and final installment in the original Chronicles of Narnia film series. Set three years after the events of Prince Caspian, the film follows the two youngest Pevensie children, Edmund and Lucy, as they return to Narnia to join the new king Caspian in his quest to rescue seven lost lords and to save Narnia from a corrupting evil that resides on a dark island.

Composer David Arnold scored the film, with themes composed by Harry Gregson-Williams (who scored the first two films). It was Arnold’s fourth collaboration with director Michael Apted. He created specific themes for the characters The Dawn Treader and Reepicheep, and used themes from the previous films for the opening and closing scenes as well as recurring characters, to ensure that the film is consistent with the franchise. The score was performed by an 87-piece orchestra and a 40-piece choir, resulting in an epic soundtrack with just the right magical touch to compliment this film.

Environments are sticky, they stick to whatever happens within them. They can’t help it. And neither can you.

Land of the Few and Far Between / Songs for St. Michel is a collection of musical ‘figures’ written and recorded in 2022 and 2023 using a method Lyckle and Kim call the ‘snelkookpan’, translated as the pressure cooker. The ’snelkookpan’ in essence is trying to write and live-record as many musical figures in a given timeframe in a specific place. For ‘Land of the Few and Far Between’ this was an afternoon and evening in an exhibition Kim had curated about collecting and memory in The Hague. For ‘Songs of St. Michel’ this was 6 days in the basement of an art institution in Maastricht where they were joined by Otto de Jong on guitar. The figures are usually worked out by ear, sometimes improvised, sometimes written down, but often they are simply remembered and soon after recording forgotten. For ‘Land of the Few and Far Between’ they recorded ten figures. For ‘Songs for St. Michel’ fifteen. Of each a selection of five ended up on this seven inch.

F. van Abeelen (one of whom’s drawings is pictured on the sleeve of this seven inch and of whom 750 drawings were part of the exhibition mentioned above) was forced as a boy to hide in a basement for years. Only a small window gave access to the outside world. That sliver was his reality. After these years in hiding he began drawing his sliver of reality obsessively. Daily series of similar drawings that he would meticulously catalogue in an organizer. We never met F. Our friend who discovered the drawings in a closet of psychiatric nursing home Dorestad never met F. We only recorded ten musical figures next to 750 drawings by F.

St. Michel is a house that stands on the outskirts of Maastricht. It is built on the floodplains of the river Maas and living there you see the river change daily. It is a river fed by rain. No rain means a low river. Rain means a river that sometimes comes frighteningly close to flooding. Which it sometimes does. Due to the ebb and flow of the Maas, stuff is deposited in the boggy areas that are its floodplains. A shoe, a CD, a drone, some wood.

Places impress themselves onto what you are doing. You become an unwitting prop in the place’s story.

The first ‘snelkookpan’ happened in 2017 in the water-basin of one of the earliest concrete structures in the Netherlands; a bunker that was part of Amsterdam’s defensive line, built around the 1890’s. Something that used to house water was now empty. For three days Kim and Lyckle recorded improvised music there, which is still alive on a hard drive somewhere. In 2020 they recorded ‘the third of May’ at an old pumping station in Den Helder; an eleven part piece of auditory historical-horror which was released by South of North in 2024. Since 2023 Lyckle and Kim have mainly recorded live shows. With a Clarinet, kawai K1, Ipad, organelle, samplers and a variety of instruments curated for their minimal size or odd sound they’ve made chains of brief and improvised mini compositions inspired by browsing environments (digital and otherwise).

Land of the Few and Far Between / Songs for St. Michel adds to this growing collection of recordings for environments that are somehow sticky.

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.

Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.

On her first Harmony Index album, multi-instrumentalist and producer Nico Leibman spotlights the feelings that are most difficult to express, bringing out the friction between her dreamy hooks and harsher sonics. Written almost like a DJ set, the album shifts intentionally between piano-led trip-hop, lounge, dream pop, 2-step and breakbeat house, not languishing in nostalgia but defining a language that's rooted in desire, surrender and forward motion.

Until now, Leibman has been best known as a touring musician, working alongside artists like Jessica Pratt and Ana Roxanne, while slowly putting together new solo material in-between frequent tours. The album was written in bursts over the course of five long years and provided Leibman with a much-needed outlet - a chance for her to lock into her personal musical preoccupations, like Janet Jackson's 'The Velvet Rope', Everything but the Girl's 'Walking Wounded' and Prefab Sprout's 'Jordan: The Comeback'.

It's this era of pop - when nascent technology collided at force with skillful, soulful songwriting - that provides the album's backbone, fleshed out by Leibman's potent meditations on a spectrum of experiences in Los Angeles. And as the record was evolving, Leibman let long night drives crack her creative world open. Embracing the city's notoriously cinematic romantic side, she used the car as a "little chamber of limerence," in her own words, enabling her fantasies and acting as a test system for each song. "If it wasn't hitting in the car," she says. "It wasn't going to be on the record, period."

This sense of motion is evident almost immediately on 'Recognize', when Leibman's breathy words are carried into the night by choppy, uptempo breaks and resonant pads. So even when she simply coos over chugging guitars and bass on the first half of 'Enough', the drop into a low-slung breakbeat is implied. "Another digression, a break in this tension," she sings. "Was I foolish to believe that this was never your intention?" Leibman's tales of disillusionment are imbued with power, buoyed by her pitch-perfect production, with additional help from co-producer Cesar Maria.

On 'Don't Pretend', she sings softly and soulfully over decelerated Timbaland-inspired beats and a dubwise bassline, aided by additional production from Purelink. And 'If' marks the point where she lets go, infusing her euphoria with melancholy as her voice soars alongside the album's most infectious piano riff. Fittingly, the album concludes with 'Trust', a song about surrendering to the possibilities of love that works as a potent metaphor for the album's evolution. Over the course of five years, Leibman learned to let people in, finally trusting the process. "It's also a fantasy of what it would feel like to finally be in love again," she laughs, accepting that it's still just a fantasy. But it's this hope in unfulfilled longing that gives the album its unique character, defining a bold, unguarded voice in LA's experimental pop landscape.

Space Ghost returns with Back From Reality, his first solo album since 2022. Blending ambient, downtempo and house, the LP explores themes of escapism, introspection and the search for moments of calm in an increasingly overwhelming world. Out October 9th, 2026 via Space Ghost’s own Peace World Records.

Drawing influence from late '90s and early 2000s ambient and electronic music, the record channels the nostalgic atmosphere of PS2-era video game soundtracks, console startup screens, and save menus. “I used to play games like Spyro, Crash, Ape Escape, Gran Turismo. It's fun for me to reimagine songs that could have lived in games from that era. ” The project reveals Space Ghost's interest in writing music for video games, with tracks such as "System Reset" reimagining an alternate PS2 startup screen or “VGM” visualizing a stage selection screen for an imaginary game.

Visually, the project emulates the minimalist design trends of album artwork from the same era: sparse industrial landscapes paired with minimal type. Space Ghost took the cover photo himself while driving around the quiet, empty Oakland ports at night. Tracks like “Sugar Cube” and “Back From Reality” mimic these late night environments and create a downtempo zone for listeners to get lost in. “One of my favorite things to do after writing songs, is to drive around Oakland listening to them. It's almost like the final test for the songs, to see if their emotion holds up.
”
Written over the course of five years, Back From Reality reflects Space Ghost’s experience of balancing everyday life with the desire to be creative. “This album is me coming home from my day job and returning back to the place where I feel the joy and freedom in making my music. If I could, I would work on my music full time, but for now it's part time and often a form of escapism. ” Beneath its calming surface, the LP quietly wrestles with larger questions. Against the backdrop of global conflict, environmental decline, and economic uncertainty, the album searches for small moments of optimism through creativity and introspection. Back From Reality holds a moment of space away from these overwhelming times, allowing listeners to pause and recharge.

Back From Reality releases on Peace World Records October 9th, 2026

Two decades have passed in the land of Gnod, yet the psychic travelogue only becomes more enthralling as it goes on. And whilst this band has flourished via dauntless conviction, hive-mind magic and a fierce and uncompromising spirit, one ingredient has served as a crucial fuel for the fire – the monolithic singularity of the riff. 



This second chapter of Gnod’s sort-of-anniversary trilogy also originates in the same six day sessions as the first, at Hellfire Studios near Dublin with producer Spud Murphy (Lankum, Black Midi etc). Yet the focus this time is on the transcendental heaviness and repetition that the band have often used as a primary fulcrum of their approach. This volume captures the sound of strings flayed, throats shredded, skins punished by the organic chemistry of this formidably powerful band in a room.


The results are amongst the most fearsome and kinetic material that Gnod have summoned to date. As has often been the case for a band heavily driven by serendipity and intuition, the best plan is no plan at all. “We find quite regularly that spontaneity and the no thought approach works better than over analysis and detailed planning” clarifies the band's Chris Haslam


Maximal yet minimal, claustrophobic yet expansive, free in approach yet mercilessly disciplined in their intensity – Gnod like every truly great band are a mass of contradictions. On Chronicles Of Gnowt (Vol 2), this thunderous paradox has never sounded fiercer. To paraphrase Nietzsche: “Is man merely a mistake of Gnod's? Or Gnod merely a mistake of man?”

Familiar. Usually reserved for things we think we know. A face, a place, a feeling, a record perhaps. Until, of course, they aren’t quite the same anymore. Or maybe you aren’t.
Jennifer’s debut album lives somewhere around there.
It’s a record about time, which is already a fairly ambitious subject considering nobody seems to have figured that one out yet. More specifically, it’s about what
time does to a person. The old versions, the new versions, and all the ones in between that you only notice when something suddenly brings them back. Someone you
haven’t seen in years. A room you used to know. A certain way the light falls. That sort of thing.

There’s a bit of a doppelgänger situation going on, too. Finding something completely new and somehow recognising it. Meeting yourself again without immediately realising who you’re talking to.
Which can be nice. Or strange. Usually both. The songs on Familiar sit comfortably with that contradiction. Looking backwards without wanting to go back. Missing things without necessarily wanting them
returned. Realising that people who once occupied most of your waking hours can become people whose address you don’t know. Meanwhile, some tiny, seemingly irrelevant detail from fifteen years ago remains perfectly intact.
Memory has its own filing system. Not a particularly sensible one.
Jennifer wrote a series of poems alongside the album. In them, familiarity appears in melting snow, rough coastlines, a kitchen already warm in the morning, somebody’s hands fitting into yours. Elsewhere she wonders about someone she
once knew everything about and now knows nothing about. They could live around the corner. They could live on another continent. They could, technically, be dead. Probably not. But that’s time for you.
Maybe Familiar is less about remembering who you were than realising you never entirely stopped being them. Things get added. Things disappear. Things come back looking slightly different.
And somehow, you recognise them.

Hoshina Anniversary returns to MUSAR for his fourth appearance on the label with Sankaku, a five-track EP offering the latest snapshot of his ever-evolving ‘Watechno’ sound.

Taking its name from the Japanese word for ‘triangle’, Sankaku opens with a storming, floor-focused title track, pairing hypnotic techno rhythms with shifting textures and sharp acid drops. Tsuppari follows, named after the rapid hand thrusts used in sumo. Driving percussion, Japanese instrumentation and a raw techno pulse give the track a physical, forward-moving energy, making it a natural club cut.

Side B opens with Kono Kanjitte, where acidic tones meet jazzy elements and a playful sense of uncertainty. Slower and psychedelic, it unfolds as a track for restless minds and hazy nights. Ariake, named after the Ariake Sea, moves into more spacious territory, with Japanese instrumentation creating an atmosphere of mystery and anticipation, like looking towards an unknown horizon. Closing the EP, Itsukushimi brings a melancholic blend of melodic touches and darker cinematic tension, recalling the atmosphere of a Hitchcock soundtrack.

With ‘Sankaku’ EP, Hoshina Anniversary turns Japanese imagery, psychedelic textures and club-driven rhythms into a world that feels both familiar and otherworldly.

Two is the second album by British electronic group Utah Saints, and was released in 2000. It's the result of a eight-year layoff that was this close to retirement (in techno terms). In 1992, Utah Saints' self-titled debut was one of the year's most exciting dance releases. Jez Willis and Tim Garbutt's anthems boomed out with the exuberance of copyright liberation, but their unreleased second album was permanently bricked up by record label ffrr for copyright violation.

But in 2000 they finally got to release this beauty! Two features guest apparances by Michael Stipe (R.E.M.), Chuck D (Public Enemy) and Edwin Starr. On Two, you can hear samples ranging from Metallica, Average White Band, The Pretenders, The Stooges and Joyce Sims, so you can only imagine which samples were used on that unreleased album!

Two is available as a limited numbered edition of 1000 copies on clear/turquoise marble vinyl, and is packaged in a gatefold sleeve.

Planet Trip Records presents Sydney underground heroes Hugh B & Setwun’s first album, 2020’s Yeah Definitely, and its long-awaited follow-up, 2026’s Nah Maybe, as a deluxe vinyl LP package. Underpinned by the low-end heft of dub and soundsystem culture, their albums draw deeply from an expansive array of sensibilities: tones, textures and patterns shaped by post-punk and ambient music dovetail with abstract, sampledelic hip-hop drum loops. Meanwhile, Setwun’s mysterious neo-soul/modern R&B vocals glide on the beat. Punctuated by dialogue snippets, these songs feel like exploring the multiverse with an interdimensional boombox.

Yeah Definitely began as a batch of instrumentals. Having previously worked with an MPC, drum machines, instruments and Logic Audio, Hugh used a borrowed PC and Renoise, a tracker DAW associated with 21st-century jungle/drum & bass production. Afterwards, he sent them over to Setwun, who sketched vocals on top with ease.

If Yeah Definitely came together quickly, Nah Maybe was a longer process. Still inspired, Hugh B knocked out a second folder of beats with neon-lit city-pop references, slow-jam grooves, and elegant guitar figures. This time, however, something wasn’t clicking for Setwun. The only cure here would be the passage of time.

Over the next six years, Hugh and Setwun continued to collaborate while pursuing solo projects. Hugh released jungle, ambient house, dub and post-punk records through Planet Trip Records, Not Not Fun, and his OTIS Records label, while performing live, DJ, and leading the Modern Pop Ensemble. Similarly, Setwun, also a multi-instrumentalist, producer, and DJ, released a series of records that explore jazz, soul, house, and broken-beat electronica, forming a loose constellation for Mandarin Dreams and Extra Soul Perception. Alongside these efforts, he played shows and began performing with his backing band, The Soulstranauts.

Early in 2026, something clicked, and Setwun drafted vocals for the second batch of beats over an evening. Not long after, he invited Hugh to mix Nah Maybe, every bit as special as Yeah Definitely. By waiting for the right moment and putting themselves outside of their comfort zone, Hugh B and Setwun have bottled lightning twice. We’re very pleased to be able to share Yeah Definitely and Nah Maybe with you.

The tracks on the upcoming Boysonic release are a snapshot of a period largely absent from the discussion around Romanian electronic dance music: the first half of the 1990s.

Boysonic’s music was made in the face of considerable adversity, in a Romania still reeling from the aftermath of the 1989 revolution, spiralling inflation of over 200%, and the violence of the early-1990s Mineriads. In the gatefold photos, one of the band’s members can be seen performing live wearing a miner’s safety helmet, a piece of stagewear, but also a charged symbol of the period.

The original music on Madhouse was made in Bra?ov during 1993–1994. Situated away from Bucharest’s political and cultural centre, Bra?ov gave the project its own slightly detached rhythm. Classically trained in piano and active in local radio, Mihai Barb developed Boysonic as a largely one-man act, often joined live by a changing cast of dancers and vocalists. In the absence of a developed club circuit, early performances took place in pre-1989 concert halls, seaside resorts and local entertainment circuits organised around regional radio stations.

Agnostic in genre and unusually fluid in approach, Madhouse moves through downtempo pop burners, KLF-type UK house, boomy breakbeat, new beat and acid-leaning experiments. The material reflects a short-lived moment before the Romanian mainstream/underground divide had fully taken shape, when electronic music lacked infrastructure but not imagination.

Sampling was used generously, with drum loops, vocal fragments and preset banks repurposed through software such as ProTracker and further processed outboard.

The release comes as a 2xLP gatefold.

Remixes are from Benedikt Frey, Boysonic, Cosmin TRG, Flore of Khidja, Romansoff, and Tankwart.

*COMES IN GATEFOLD 2LP WITH LINER NOTES*

The premise of this compilation is simple: music we’d like to hear at the airport.

The idea came after learning that Honolulu’s international airport has been playing AI-generated music over its speakers since November 2025. First reported by Civil Beat, the news has caused frustration and disappointment among residents and visitors, as well as within the local music community.

Everyone knows Hawaii is one of the most musically rich regions in the world — why then is the airport using AI music? 'Music For The Airport' is our response.

Located in the middle of the Pacific at the outskirts of one the most remote cities on the planet, Honolulu’s Daniel K. Inouye International Airport (HNL) is for most people the first place they encounter when they arrive in Hawaii. Warm sun, tropical tradewinds, playful palm trees and majestic mountains welcome every traveler, as do the sounds of birds, familiar music from Hawaiian artists like Aunty Genoa Keawe and Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, and—at least for now—seventeen “island-themed” AI-generated songs.

In late 1977, while sitting in Germany’s Cologne Bonn Airport on a Sunday morning, Brian Eno noticed how terribly uncomfortable he felt hearing the airport’s “muzak” overhead. For a harried, hurried place like the airport where travelers scramble to their gates, stand in long border control lines, and wait impatiently for their luggage at the carousels, music can create more anxiety than calm. Asking himself, "What should we be hearing here?", Eno soon created ‘Ambient 1: Music For Airports’, a sonic remedy aimed at reducing nervousness in public spaces.

When we heard the news that HNL airport is playing AI-generated “muzak”, we were immediately reminded of Eno’s genre-defying 1978 album. And we were similarly inspired to react. But how? Recreating an ambient masterpiece wasn’t in our wheelhouse. We started digging through our catalog of licensed music which we haven’t yet re-released. We quickly realized this was our chance to highlight some of favorite songs from the so-called CD era: the 1990s and 2000s (with a few exceptions). In less than 20 minutes, we pulled 17 original songs recorded by local artists between 1984 and 2017.

The speed at which this project came together surprised us; reactionary gut instinct often produces swift and lasting results. Ironically, our new compilation likely took less time than it did for the state Department of Transportation to commission its AI songs in question. But even though ‘Music for the Airport’ came together in less than one week, the truth is that this collection of 17 songs is the result of years of hard work, trust, sacrifice, patience, and understanding. Building relationships with and licensing music from artists doesn’t happen overnight, but more importantly: these songs are the result of people pouring their hearts and souls into something they believe in. This music wouldn’t exist today without the artists and their loved ones who supported them along the way.

As of this writing, the DOT states its intention in creating AI-generated songs is to “highlight different aspects of the islands, aviation and the airport” and that “no state funds were used to produce them”. Okay, but at what cost? Technology disrupting the music industry isn’t news to anyone. AI music in public spaces are cost-saving measures, since its users (airports, for example) don’t have to pay the licensing fees typically required, which can be a worthwhile source of revenue for artists. But what happens when a place like HNL airport, which hosts more than 21 million passengers annually, uses music created by machines instead of people to represent Hawaii? The identity of a place beings to erode, diluted by a language learning model’s conceptual summary of what a people and its culture sounds like. To echo Brian Eno: what should we be hearing here? In other words: what should the music of Hawaii sound like?

We believe in the power of music, especially when it comes from the soul. We believe in supporting artists, especially as AI disrupts our lives. We believe that Hawaii must be represented authentically, especially when it comes to song. And of course we believe in vinyl, especially since it was a record from 1978 (Mackey Feary Band’s debut LP) that inspired Aloha Got Soul’s origins in 2010.

We hope you find as much joy in this compilation as we have. Perhaps it’ll soundtrack your next journey to Hawaii. At the very least, we hope some people take a moment to hear these sounds: in your headphones for now‚ maybe someday overhead at the airport in Honolulu.

* long version / previously unreleased on vinyl
** exclusive / previously unreleased
Felix Laband's highly acclaimed electronica masterpiece album "Dark Days Exit" (2005) is now available as an Extended Version 2LP vinyl. Originally planned for last year's 20th anniversary, this special edition features a new design by Felix Laband and includes a double-sided DIN A2 art print. Dark Days Exit features four exclusive tracks, alongside five vinyl-only tracks available for the first time in their original long versions. Listening to the key track, Sleeping Household, on Dark Days Exit is unsettling: like being an impostor rambling around an uncanny house, a Lynchian leitmotif in the form of a young girl divulging secrets that you probably shouldn't hear. Dark Days Exit is an album that paints an interior landscape, an invitation to transgress private thresholds. Made with old-school production tools that require hands-on application, Dark Days Exit is a sound-production tour de force. The music is as wide as the savannah and microscopic at the same time, a lesson in what can be achieved when 'music' is placed on an equal footing with sound as a phenomenon, by an artist who decides to apply themselves without reserve. The masterful manipulation of reverb and delays and hyper-detail was a generation ahead of its time, and Dark Days Exit is preferred by audiophiles for testing their systems. Dark Days Exit is intimate, demanding, and a masterclass in tension, and Laband's ability to use all sound without hierarchy to paint a detailed personal vision — one that is less overtly political and streetwise than on subsequent albums — is unsurpassed. Most discerning listeners are into music because, in the hands of a master, it can manipulate our mood and transport us. Felix Laband opens with a sonic portrait of spring happiness and gradually dismantles the atmosphere in front of our ears, as epitomised by the haunting track Black Shoes. No sooner are we afraid than the artist drops us off where we started. In many ways, the intimacy derives from the tight group of friends and believers whom Laband corralled as contributors: Mark van Niekerk (xylophone, "Miss Teardrop"), Jane Rademeyer (clarinet, "Black Shoes," "Radio Right Now"), Brendon Bussy (mandolin, "Black Shoes"), and Derek Gripper (sampled violin, used throughout) and Alex van Heerden on Minka. The difficulty in categorising Dark Days Exit is probably due to Laband listening mostly to ambient and classical music at the time, and consequently registering the album at the lush, cinematic end of the electronic spectrum. There is poise and restraint in the spare use of beats, and when they do appear, they hit hard. Forged in the optimistic post-apartheid years, Dark Days Exit is music about life and death, spanning hope, despair, terror, tension, with humour and empathy. Twenty one years on, the album's gravity endures, due to its almost perverse authenticity, its timeless themes of hope and despair, and its apex level of technical mastery. The additional, immaculately produced tracks add new rooms to the uncanny house we are invited into.

Verdad Y Error (2026) resides in the tension between the thrashing of external noise and beating centred internal calm. Gibrana Cervantes is known for her work across experimental music and contemporary performance, a practice with focussed intensity and surging physicality, often pushing the limits of endurance, presence, and embodiment. A central axis of her performance practice is her ongoing collaboration with acclaimed choreographer Florentina Holzinger, including composing the music for SEA WORLD (2026), Florentina Holzinger’s critically acclaimed installation for the Austrian Pavilion at the Venice Biennale. Alongside this, she is a core member of the experimental ensemble Amor Muere (Mabe Fratti, Concepción Huerta, and Camille Mandoki). Cervantes maintains an active recording practice that directly informs her live output including her collaboration Memoria (2025), with Colombian Drone Mafia (Nyksan) for Ambie-Tón (Tratratrax),

Verdad y Error is a record of her artistic approach which expands her body and the violin’s horizon of possibility to near breaking point. Cervantes uses a register closely associated with Metal, yet buried deep in the alchemy of these pieces are motifs which hark back to her classical background. Across these pieces the violin is used as an instrument with a fragmented and shifting voice — blurred, repeated, and reshaped through distortion. “Many of these pieces come from images, memories, and sensations that have stayed with me for years. I'm interested in the blurring of what actually happened and what time transforms.” The recordings are built with layers of violin tones which oscillate between recognisable, processed, stretched and shifted, and lay embedded in a frequency stratum of volatile static and noise. “The violin on this album doesn't appear as a clean instrument. I process it, repeat it, distort it, and multiply it until it begins to feel more like memory than melody. Something blurry, shifting, difficult to grasp.” The origins of the album were born at a time when Cervantes was seeking inner calm amidst a relentless external noise, questioning the validity or possibility of memory and its radically changing perception in relation to experience. Subsequent reflection on this contemplative moment allowed her to develop a relational music which moves through memory, erosion, repetition, and emotional ambiguity. Creating a space that feels both intimate and unstable, mercurial with the patina of lived imperfection.

Akin to the unreliable narrator and linguistic instability, each piece functions as an emotional landscape suspended between clarity and confusion. An album which balances melody, brutality, fragility and noise
throughout its sprawling recordings and artwork, which operates as an analogue to the music. The visual world of the album developed in collaboration with Mauro Ventura was compiled across various media with a mix of handwritten texts, burned typography, metallic textures, and fragile physical materials. “I wanted the record to feel tactile and imperfect — something emotionally direct but physically worn.” says Cervantes. More than offering explanations, verdad y error exists as a conversation between memory and disappearance, noise and stillness, truth and error.

Disco Collected celebrates the dance music which originally developed from R&B, soul, and funk from the late 60s and 70s and turned into a mighty subculture in discotheques, with Studio 54, Manhattan, New York as one of the most famous and extravagant discos all over the world. Disco used a steady four to the floor beat, string sections, horns which created a perfect setting for DJs who mixed their special 12 inches to an eager dance crowd.

Movies like Saturday Night Fever and Thank God It’s Friday contributed to disco’s mainstream popularity. Compiled on Disco Collected are some of the best, well-known and great disco hits by Rose Royce, Chic, Kool & The Gang, The Trammps, Thelma Houston, KC & The Sunshine Band and 16 more guaranteed floor fillers.

The 2LP Disco Collected is available as a limited edition on disco ball silver vinyl and includes an insert.

Grammy- and Academy Award-winning rapper and actor Common is widely regarded as one of the most influential Chicago rappers of all time. He is best known for his sophisticated lyrics and jazz-rap, which introduced the world to hip-hop classics such as "I Used to Love H.E.R.", "The Light" and "GO!".

He started his career with Can I Borrow a Dollar? This album immediately drew attention thanks to its top-notch production and clever, playful lyrics. Common worked with contemporary household producers like No I.D., The Twilite Tone and The Beatnuts to create this album, which put Chicago hip hop on the map.

Can I Borrow a Dollar? is available on black vinyl.

DJ Deep and Traumer continue the Get-Rooted journey with a new four-track EP that once again reflects the label’s concept: two artists sharing their individual perspectives while complementing each other’s musical language.

The release opens with DJ Deep’s original version of “Come Get It”, a timeless House cut deeply inspired by the spirit of the early ’90s, with a subtle nod to the legendary sound of Murk. Traumer then delivers his own interpretation of the track, transforming it into a more contemporary and forward-looking production while preserving its original essence.

Bridging the two versions is a dedicated DJ Tool, designed to seamlessly transition from one interpretation to the other, or to be used creatively in the mix alongside other records.

The EP closes with “Le Coton”, an elegant and sophisticated House track whose timeless groove perfectly rounds off this third Get-Rooted release.

Hector Gannet have always known that place and music are inseparable. For songwriter and guitarist Aaron Duff, North Shields high on England’s north east coast, shaped by fishing, shipbuilding, and the sea, is not just a backdrop but a source. Everything flows from it: the imagery, the politics, the particular stoicism of people who absorb more than their share and keep moving anyway.

‘The Great Shakedown’, their third album, is where that source runs deepest. Featuring bold brass arrangements alongside choir and church bells recorded live at the 17th-century Christ Church in North Shields, the album is Hector Gannet’s most ambitious and most searching work. The brass is a constant throughout: driving the Dexys-style urgency of the title track, lounging through the jazz-tinged Big White Telephone, surging euphorically through singles The Mother Tongue and Seven Signs.

The singles capture something essential about the album, euphoric on the surface, quietly devastating underneath. Beneath its propulsive brass lies an examination of stoicism as both armour and wound, of shared language used to avoid saying the very things that need to be said. It’s a quality that runs through the whole record, which looks at human history and art, the ordinary and the extraordinary, the actions of those in power and the communities who live with the consequences. It is both communal and euphoric - a powerful rallying cry for people at a time when we need it most.

On their third album, FANGS, London collective HMLTD have created an entirely new genre: Götherdammerüng (or ÜberGöth). Predictably unpredictable, it could not be further away from their last outing, 2023 rock opera The Worm. The sixteen-piece orchestra has been traded in for Ableton, the timpani and violins replaced with side-chained four-to-the-floor and rave synths, and the gospel choir swapped for guttural gothic howling and black metal screams. The result is both unique and terrifying: a total reinvention and rehabilitation of the goth genre, through the looking glass of modern electronic and doomscroll-era dance music.

This new beginning was accompanied by a change in personnel, with Theo Spark and Andrei Martynchyk joining the fray alongside original members Henry Spychalski and Duc Peterman. Decamping to a ruined château in the Loire Valley, the quartet became obsessed with vampire lore, and the EBM and goth sound that inspired their early work: Fad Gadget, DAF, Nitzer Ebb, Suicide and Bauhaus. FANGS also points to more contemporary influences like Crystal Castles, German hardcore, 2000s blog-house a la Justice, and 2020s sleazepop.



The world crafted in FANGS is full of cosmic pessimism, glowing horror, imperceptible evil and digital dismemberment, ancient curses and ruined castles, Vampires. But it is also a thoroughly fun, and funny, record, as danceable as it is deep. Born of the club, some tracks would not sound out of place on Brat. Like a Smiths song which sounds happy and carefree until your brain tunes in to the misery of the lyrics, it can be listened to - and enjoyed - on two levels. One can get lost in the throb of bass and ludic synths, or tune into the horror of the lyrics which overlay them.



FANGS attempts to offer up a reflection to a culture that - like a Vampire - has lost its own. The result is something not only thoroughly modern, original, and inventive - but that feels genuinely dangerous and potent. FANGS delights in this ambiguity: simultaneously indicting decadence, decay, and moral rot, while luxuriating in its intoxication by it. Cacophonous sub-bass becomes a chthonic call of the void; seraphic rave synths become the screech of Valkyries; four-to-the-floor becomes a deathly funeral march. Vampire apocalypse.

On their third album, FANGS, London collective HMLTD have created an entirely new genre: Götherdammerüng (or ÜberGöth). Predictably unpredictable, it could not be further away from their last outing, 2023 rock opera The Worm. The sixteen-piece orchestra has been traded in for Ableton, the timpani and violins replaced with side-chained four-to-the-floor and rave synths, and the gospel choir swapped for guttural gothic howling and black metal screams. The result is both unique and terrifying: a total reinvention and rehabilitation of the goth genre, through the looking glass of modern electronic and doomscroll-era dance music.

This new beginning was accompanied by a change in personnel, with Theo Spark and Andrei Martynchyk joining the fray alongside original members Henry Spychalski and Duc Peterman. Decamping to a ruined château in the Loire Valley, the quartet became obsessed with vampire lore, and the EBM and goth sound that inspired their early work: Fad Gadget, DAF, Nitzer Ebb, Suicide and Bauhaus. FANGS also points to more contemporary influences like Crystal Castles, German hardcore, 2000s blog-house a la Justice, and 2020s sleazepop.



The world crafted in FANGS is full of cosmic pessimism, glowing horror, imperceptible evil and digital dismemberment, ancient curses and ruined castles, Vampires. But it is also a thoroughly fun, and funny, record, as danceable as it is deep. Born of the club, some tracks would not sound out of place on Brat. Like a Smiths song which sounds happy and carefree until your brain tunes in to the misery of the lyrics, it can be listened to - and enjoyed - on two levels. One can get lost in the throb of bass and ludic synths, or tune into the horror of the lyrics which overlay them.



FANGS attempts to offer up a reflection to a culture that - like a Vampire - has lost its own. The result is something not only thoroughly modern, original, and inventive - but that feels genuinely dangerous and potent. FANGS delights in this ambiguity: simultaneously indicting decadence, decay, and moral rot, while luxuriating in its intoxication by it. Cacophonous sub-bass becomes a chthonic call of the void; seraphic rave synths become the screech of Valkyries; four-to-the-floor becomes a deathly funeral march. Vampire apocalypse.

Ibiza-based Jazz N Palms is back with more musical dispatches from the calmer side of the island that follow on from his Ses Rodes album in 2022. That record was focused on a double album assembled, as if over a Cartesian grid of space-time. While one record was about space/the environment, the other was following the times of the day. This 7" expands that with more music inspired by magical island spaces.

These tracks were recorded in Magrana Studio in Ibiza with three new musicians and, after the post-production, the mixing was made with the help of Ben Westbeech and his beautiful Unfairchild II, an amazing Californian reproduction of the holy grail of tube compressor that has been present in Abbey Road studios since the 60s.

Opener 'El Valle' ('the valley') captures the different shades of light that pass over Ibiza, from early spring light to the arrival of looming clouds and the first thunders of a summer storm. It is the organ which serves as the main character to convey those sensations and the passing from light to dark as a live, loose and dusty groove bounces below. On the flip side, 'La Costa' simulates cruising on the open sea, riding choppy swells as waves lap at the boat and you gaze at the passing landscapes. Only drums and bass have been used to convey the feeling, and the result is a wonderfully uneven, ever-evolving and funky groove full of life.

2026 Repress

Donato Basile AKA DJ Plant Texture always wants his music to tell a story, and with his debut EP on Tresor Records, entitled Life, he’s now trying to tell the biggest story there is. According to the artist, “Life is about the fear of growing up”; both the anxiety itself and acknowledging and moving past it.
This narrative seems to have struck a chord with those who have heard the track, “People want to reflect themselves in the music; something personal. Lots of people have been in touch after hearing it; I guess they feel something melancholic in it. Personally, I imagine the track is like the life of a person; going from being born through childhood and youth and onwards, so perhaps they hear this?”
Having used an MPC since the early 2000s, Basile feels an intuitive connection to the hardware he uses, and so the creative process is very spontaneous: “I know where everything is so the music is made immediately. I make everything in the first ten minutes; after that if it’s not right then I just abandon it and start something else.” This immediacy, and familiarity with his equipment is apparent on the A-side, where Basile’s previous life as a drummer comes to the fore and tracks like Cycles and Ripetivo display his native understanding of groove but also how to stir things up - the three A-side tracks find classic techno rhythms seemingly falling apart only to snap back into place even stronger. The B-side finds Donato exploring more of his melodic side with WTT and the aforementioned title track showing Plant Texture’s love of breakbeat and classic techno.
The three digital bonus tracks continue this exploration of melody and syncopated beats - The EXP Days echos the wistful feeling of Life, as Basile meditates on the times spent at EXP, his record shop in Bari, which functioned as a meeting place for electronic producers in the area.

With his last three records all landing within a calendar year (2024-25), enigmatic Swedish producer Civilistjävel! (aka Tomas Bodén) is on a hot streak of releases, his singular vision increasingly ambitious and expansive. There are few artists working at this level so consistently right now, reinventing, revising and continually developing their language. Following on from 2025’s radically re-worked ‘Versions’ (of Mayssa Jallad’s ‘Marjaa…’), Bodén returns to break further fresh ground with his new album, ‘Älvgång’. Featuring contributions from Soccer Committee, Carrier and guest (aka Jabu’s Jasmine Butt), ‘Älvgång’ foregrounds a more brittle and insistent rhythm-based sound, whilst comprising his most broad-ranging collection of material to date.


‘Älvgång’ grew out of a series of sketches made from late ‘24 and throughout the whole of ‘25 at Stockholm’s renowned EMS Studios, which gave Boden free rein to its extensive collection of vintage analogue equipment and rare modular synthesizers such as the Serge and Buchla systems. As a loose framework of tracks began to take shape, so did a reflection of sorts, on family and foundations, underpinned or influenced by sounds that drifted into Tomas consciousness around this time - ancient Swedish pastoral music, Georgian lithurgical chants, gongs, chimes. An idea settled into place, a dedication to his Grandfather, as the earlier release Fyra Platser (tr. ‘Four Places’) was to his Grandmother. Älvgång is grounded with the sense of time and place of an old family photograph, with the tracks over each side bearing one of two names that are more or less the same location - Strinne was the old name for a this loose collection of villages. These days it is more commonly known as Bjärtrå. Metaphorically speaking, the river runs through both.


Civilistjävel! conjures so many adjectives and descriptors, ‘glacial’ and ‘ambient’ frequently among them - but while not altogether untrue, such terms belie the tension and drama so often present in Tomas’ music. Listening to ‘Älvgång’ is not a passive experience. The eight tracks here feel like a patchwork of memories that bathe in the same ethereal, otherworldly glow of Tarkovsky’s polaroids’.


The machine pulses that dominate this landscape are reigned in and tempered by a human hand; lithe, untethered coils, breathing in and out. ‘Strinne Ett’ sets out with purpose, sensing awe and wonder through the murk, but as the final tone unfurls like a question mark, another chapter begins, unfolding/building like a Tarjei Vesaas novel. These lyrical, abstract miniatures combine to reveal a wider context, fragile humanity standing alone against nature.


Guest appearances on Civilistjävel! records have become a regular occurrence (including recent collaborations with Mayssa Jallad, Laila Sakini, Cucina Povera, Thomas Bush, Eldon + Withdrawn), but are used sparingly and with increasing precision. On ‘Strinne Tre’ Mariska Baars’ (Soccer Committee) voice feels like a balm, a clearing. But as her simple, three-word incantation drifts further into fog, the meaning changes, and her words seem to curdle. Carrier’s beats widen the parameters on ‘Strinne Fyra’, a skittering promise that builds tension then refuses to release it; all false starts, Photek gongs, and trinkling modulars. Jabu’s Jasmine Butt pulls all the threads together for the final track, Thomas Tallis’ ghost walking over offset machine impulses, that work against their own symmetry.


Side two begins inquisitively, scanning bleached, alien surroundings, its sparse pads recalling Aphex Twin’s ‘Selected Ambient works Vol 2’. 'Bjärtrå Två’ picks up the baton from ' Strinne Fyra’ with a ruptured Simmons SDS200 analogue drum synth set free from its shackles, the rhythm eventually slotting into the spaces that were hiding in plain sight. What follows seems like an epiphany; ‘Bjärtrå Tre’ is achingly beautiful, a euphoric, winding ascent that leads to devotional plainsong. ‘Bjärtrå Fyra‘s final unheralded shift feels both tragic and haunting.

Pablo Volt and J.G.G. make dub-folktronica the unpolished way: guitar, horns, drums and synths, recorded loose, drenched in echoes and tape saturation. They met in Barcelona over a shared love of experimental beers and even more experimental sessions, determined to see how far their musical chemistry could take them. "Mordida", their 2023 tape, spent months on repeat at the Pingipung office. Now comes the debut LP: Aqui me quedo. It's a record built on the gap between two childhoods. Pablo Volt (aka Pope, as producer) grew up in Mendoza, Argentina; Jordi Gege aka J.G.G. in a suburb of Barcelona. What they share is a language and a curiosity about each other's memories and musical roots - the studio is where they embrace their different origins in improvisations. A ditch from Pablo's childhood becomes "Zanjon". A mountain Jordi used to roam becomes "Emisora". An ice cream shop, a Sunday market, a football club: small doors into a past the other never lived, but somehow recognises. Aqui me quedo, "I'm staying here", is also the name of the Barcelona bar where they toast after a good session. Two friends, tracing their way back through the past, decide the present is where they'd rather be. Handmade, melodic, unashamed of a smile as they greet from the LP sleeve: this is the spirit in which Pingipung was founded 24 years ago and these two guys, muy simpatico, are living proof of it.

Ilija Rudman is marking the 30th release on our musical town of Sakskøbing. The Croatian artist has told this particular story how he wanted with 4 tracks crucially being together on this disc so it would be a complete tale of “Egg of the Sun”. From heavenly pads & guitar riffs he has given birth to this particular disc which is ready to enter into the vast world of music. The artist has been putting out discs since the early 2000’s and has developed a vast discography behind his name that only deserves respect and admiration whether he is working solo or in collaborations with other musical souls. The label is welcoming a true visionary to its roster and it can only yield the feelings of excitement, admiration and proudness. The egg is so close to the sun like Icarus used to be in his time however instead of burning it only shines with brilliance.

Magazine Announces 15th Anniversary Remaster of Barnt’s Techno Classic Geffen

Cologne-based record label Magazine celebrates the 15th anniversary of Barnt’s visionary anthem Geffen. One of electronic music's most defining tracks of the 2010s will be reissued in a 2026 remaster edition, marking the first time it receives its own dedicated standalone release.

Originally published on the legendary Cómeme imprint as part of the Various Artists EP The Power Of Now, the track rapidly became a global phenomenon. Looking back, one can hardly imagine Geffen without the 2010s, or, conversely, maybe even electronic music of that era without it. The composition mirrors the expressive possibilities of bedroom producers at the beginning of that decade—an era where artists could launch tracks into the world and have them resonate through their sheer sonic power, without major marketing efforts.

Barnt remembers: "It was one of my earliest tracks. I had just entered art school and didn't own much equipment. My MIDI keyboard only had two octaves. I would always play notes with my right hand while simultaneously shifting through the octaves with my left. This is how the hook line came to life. The production only consisted of seven or eight stems, and barely any equalizers were used during the mixdown. In hindsight, this sparse approach to production probably made it sound different and is why it hits so hard on big sound systems (while sounding unfinished to some on YouTube). At that time, we were doing a small festival on a playground in the center of Cologne. When I played the CDR there, Matias Aguayo demanded it right after. That is how it ended up on Cómeme."

The release comes with two very Magazine-esque reinterpretations from the label's two other co-founders alongside Barnt: a powerful atmospheric club remix by Jens-Uwe Beyer, and Magazine Hallucination, a wild, collaborative, psychedelic mutation by Crato and Beyer.

Jörg Burger, who already mastered the original track, is also responsible for the mastering of this release.

This is the sound of dream Texas, the cinematic Texas conjured in film and 20th century literary and art myth… big dark blueing horizons swallowing the infinite distance, a lonely poetry of sound, but also a stock taker of the iconoclastic, psychedelic, art rebel side of Texas… the cracked rock music side of Texas, the avant-garde in concrete cracks, the recklessly used, mind expanding drugs Texas, the dripping eastern swamps, the Houston house parties with the sounds of records blasting down the block and becoming musique concrète in the hot summer night.

Chrome Chasm’s debut album Interpreter is ambient, minimal in feel, maximal in texture, beautifully disorienting, vastly spacious— until it isn’t. It's a naturalistic shapeshifter, taking majestic form in the aforementioned elements and then dissolving back to raw genetic material to form anew. Spiritual jazz overtones, pedal steel moans and buzzing, noisy ambient visions are upended by grey-folded psychedelic unveilings. Interpreter’s three expansive tracks present a most detailed performance by its three deft musicians and the outcome often feels like a gorgeous collage in real-time.

Chrome Chasm was formed in 2024 by three of Houston’s brightest underground stars: Mlee Marie (Hearts Of Animals) on alto saxophone, flute and voice (whose long-form experimental sax performances helped inspire the formation of the band), Will Adams (Lower Dens/ Ka-Nives) on pedal steel, synth, percussion and voice, and Tom Carter on guitar. Carter has been casting a long shadow over Texas psychedelia and American underground music for over 3 decades, most notably with the Houston based Charalambides, a powerful creative force of the pre-new weird America era of experimental and avant psychedelic music, and most notably since with his solo guitar magnum opus Long Time Underground (which was deemed among the best experimental albums of 2015 by Pitchfork).

Interpreter’s opening track “The Star,” recorded almost completely live in one room and one take, is a 16-minute manifesto on ‘Dream Noir.’ An astute scholar of cross-genre connectivity and the through-lines of kosmische and spiritual-leaning sonic realms can hear echoes of Cluster, the skronk and beauty of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, and the architectural ambient flow of Harold Budd and Philip Glass in the tidal lapping of distorted guitar, mantra-like saxophone and pedal steel flow. From its deconstructed, pastoral opening moments to its proto-electronic center that crests into a bombastic polytonal climax, Chrome Chasm never neglect narrative arc for experimentation and avant technique. In fact, as a group, they effortlessly control, open, fill and contract space in abeyance to emotional vibration. “The Star,” and indeed the album as a whole, feels more like a communion or extended poem, in direct communication with the listener, than it does a ‘captured experience.’

Across the three longform tracks of Interpreter, Chrome Chasm conducts a masterclass in fusing real time performance energy with an abstract, cut-up master’s reimagining of the literal. They demand the listener meet their music with dream logic and then, like the best dream peddlers, they present a labyrinth to fall into and experience, a place where explanation and conclusion become obsolete, and engagement and immersion become sublime.