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"Shybits are releasing in November their second album to date with their new label, Anomic Records. "What's That?" is reflecting on the musical and personal growth of the band - a more mature sound inspired by this of the colder 80s, without abandoning the 90s nostalgia. Shybits have played notable shows including WDR Rockpalast, NPR Word Cafe & Reeperbahn, as well as supports for Yard Act, Art Brut, Pabst, Gurr, WWPJ & more. For the album release they will be touring in EU later this year."

Jesse Hackett returns with another unclassifiable co-mingling of genres, this time made in collaboration with Durban-based gqom trio Phelimuncasi. The group met up in Nyege Nyege's Kampala studio last year, spending three days engineering a sequence of tracks that turned the acts' respective sounds inside out, stretching urgent vocals over mutating backdrops of time stretched electronic drums, saturated noise and unstable synths.We last heard from Hackett on last year's chilling 'Shadow Swamps', a chilly, surrealist blast of disembodied folk and vintage electronics that added a cinematic twist to industrial music. Phelimuncasi meanwhile followed their acclaimed debut with the enormous 'Ama Gogela', asserting their dominance with tight, dancefloor-fwd, hook-led jams produced by some of the scene's most important beatmakers. In collaboration, both Metal Preyers and Phelimuncasi materialized a few worlds outside their comfort zones, with the Durban trio's words frothing from Hackett's marshy productions like echoes from another universe.Opening track 'Gidigidi ka Makhelwane' erupts in a fizz of beatbox percussion that loops noisily alongside Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's stirring vocals, delivered in their local isiZulu tongue. Hackett's process is relatively restrained, offering Phelimuncasi the space to work their rousing magic unimpeded and adding punctuation where necessary. But when he takes more of a destructive role, it's just as impressive: on 'Gqom slowgen Chant', he corrupts his rhythm into a ritualistic pulse, letting the trio's words melt into metallic clicks and nauseous atmospheres.Elsewhere on 'Mgiligi wableka', Phelimuncasi's words create a rousing rhythm against a low-n-slow gqom thud from Hackett, and on 'Coffin Roller' he brings to mind '80s video nasty soundtracks, toying with analog synth sequences against Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's distant chants. 'Like A Corpse' might be the album's most hollowed-out banger, turning the beat into a chopped 'n screwed drag that scrapes clamorously against Phelimuncasi's gurgling raps. Needless to say, there's nothing else like this.Jesse Hackett returns with another unclassifiable co-mingling of genres, this time made in collaboration with Durban-based gqom trio Phelimuncasi. The group met up in Nyege Nyege's Kampala studio last year, spending three days engineering a sequence of tracks that turned the acts' respective sounds inside out, stretching urgent vocals over mutating backdrops of time stretched electronic drums, saturated noise and unstable synths.We last heard from Hackett on last year's chilling 'Shadow Swamps', a chilly, surrealist blast of disembodied folk and vintage electronics that added a cinematic twist to industrial music. Phelimuncasi meanwhile followed their acclaimed debut with the enormous 'Ama Gogela', asserting their dominance with tight, dancefloor-fwd, hook-led jams produced by some of the scene's most important beatmakers. In collaboration, both Metal Preyers and Phelimuncasi materialized a few worlds outside their comfort zones, with the Durban trio's words frothing from Hackett's marshy productions like echoes from another universe.Opening track 'Gidigidi ka Makhelwane' erupts in a fizz of beatbox percussion that loops noisily alongside Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's stirring vocals, delivered in their local isiZulu tongue. Hackett's process is relatively restrained, offering Phelimuncasi the space to work their rousing magic unimpeded and adding punctuation where necessary. But when he takes more of a destructive role, it's just as impressive: on 'Gqom slowgen Chant', he corrupts his rhythm into a ritualistic pulse, letting the trio's words melt into metallic clicks and nauseous atmospheres.Elsewhere on 'Mgiligi wableka', Phelimuncasi's words create a rousing rhythm against a low-n-slow gqom thud from Hackett, and on 'Coffin Roller' he brings to mind '80s video nasty soundtracks, toying with analog synth sequences against Makan Nana, Khera and Malathon's distant chants. 'Like A Corpse' might be the album's most hollowed-out banger, turning the beat into a chopped 'n screwed drag that scrapes clamorously against Phelimuncasi's gurgling raps. Needless to say, there's nothing else like this.

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

Emmanuel Mario returns to Karaoke Kalk with his third album under his Astrobal moniker for the Berlin-based imprint. »L’uomo e la natura« (»Man and Nature«) sees the prolific drummer and producer, who has worked with artists such as Laetitia Sadier and label mate Pink Shabab, take a different musical route than before. The French electronic music composer pays homage to the spirit of library music while also making concessions to different strains of pop and even classical music. With only two of the ten songs putting words to the music, »L’uomo e la natura« is a masterful exercise in the evocation of atmospheres: expressing much while saying very little outright—show, don’t tell.

The album was born out of a desire to push the envelope. »I wanted to make music that was both pop and ambitious in its chord progressions as well as surprising in its construction,« explains the Paris-based artist. Taking inspiration from library music artists such as Alessandro Alessandroni or Bruno Nicolai as well as the more cosmic strains of electronic instrumental music, he strove »to create a soundtrack that would immediately bring to mind outer space.« The first of the three singles released ahead of the full album, »L’abeille pourpre,« captures this spirit with funky rhythms and an overjoyed interplay of different melodies, all tied together by wordless yet terminally catchy vocals.

The second single, »Miami 2064,« traverses through many different moods in its six-minute run-time: Starting off as neo-noir synth-wave piece, it then proceeds to pay its dues to the masters of the cosmic music tradition such as Tangerine Dream or, of course, Jean-Michel Jarre before slowly descending back to Earth with guitars and dreamy synthetic vocals, playfully punctuated by a plethora of wistful melodies. It is the perfect encapsulation of the open-ended approach Mario follows throughout the entire album, taking full creative licence in regards to songwriting and arrangements. »I wanted to surprise myself,« he shrugs. He succeeded.

»L’uomo e la natura« rewards multiple listens not only emotionally, but also intellectually. »I also wanted to talk about politics and ecology, because it’s impossible not to,« Mario notes. Some of the track titles express this more openly than others and the two title tracks sung by Mario and Nina Savary use French and Italian lyrics, respectively. However, as a whole the album leaves things open to interpretation. Does »The End of Capitalism« sound elegiac or triumphant? And what do you actually make of this musical vision of the Floridian metropolis, whose mere existence is threatened by climate change already today, four decades from now? Mario doesn’t necessarily answer these questions—he doesn’t tell, he shows.

Valerio Vaudano joins the roster of Cinthie’s 803 Crystal Grooves sub-label Collective Cuts with his ‘Lose My Mind’ EP.
Valerio Vaudano ‘: ’I'm a fan of Cinthie and feel honoured to release these tracks on 803 Crystal Grooves! This is the kind of sound I mostly love to play and produce at this time: house sound that blend energy, groove and 90s nostalgic melodies with Detroit, Chicago and Italo flavours. this new EP represents me best and explains better than words. The entire EP was produced using a 90s sampler without using a computer, I'm very proud of
the result! I hope you enjoy it!’’ Title-cut ‘Lose My Mind’ leads, laying down crisp saturated drums, crunchy stab sequences, choppy vocal hooks and bright strings all dynamically evolving throughout for ultimate dance floor impact. ‘Sunday Remedy’ follows with bumpy breaks, a weighty kick
and amalgamation of vocal samples in combination with gritty bass stabs and classic piano chords to perfectly encapsulate the essence of house.
Opening the flip-side is ‘Down The Street’, diving deeper with airy chords, breathy vocal chants and bouncy bass stabs intertwined with a more raw, reduced rhythm section. The aptly titled ‘Smooth As Butter’ then rounds out the release with a nod to the Detroit House sound, fusing shimmering keys with jazzy drums, twinkling chime melodies and lowpitched vocals across its near five minute duration.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

"Chewing The Fat" marks a new chapter for Franc Moody.

This album delves into the duo's creative depths, breaking away from traditional norms and

showcasing a more refined sound than their earlier work.

Partially recorded at LA 64 Sounds Studio and Damon Albarn’s Studio 13 in West London,

the album’s sonic landscape is significantly shaped by Albarn’s collection of synthesizers,

especially some Russian models.

Drawing inspiration from live performances by Massive Attack and LCD Soundsystem,

the result is a sound that leans less toward disco,

embracing a grungier, more gritty attitude.

Metal Church’s 4th album is often cited as their best. Breaking through in the-mid eighties within a blossoming Thrash Metal scene, these guys from Seattle stuck to their guns while other bands were polishing their sound to meet popular demand. The Human Factor (1991) excels in chugging riffs, melodic breaks, pulsing beats and furious vocals - a true Thrash classic. The lyrics stand out in their substance: singer Mike Howe tackles political and social subjects on “Date with Poverty”, “Flee From Reality” and “The Final Word”.

The Human Factor is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on translucent red coloured vinyl.

The Durutti Column, Linda Perhacs, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Judee Sill. Hello and welcome to Decide Which Way The Eyes Are Looking, the new record by Lina Tullgren. It is a deeply gorgeous intervention, a carefully ornamented dilemma, the most inviting crisis. Made with a host of Los Angeles musicians, Decide exposes Tullgren's daring and trust. Each song is a ring of curious sound: the skip of harp strings, the flutter of woodwinds, the ratchet of percussion, the euphonium's sigh. And at the center of each wreath, Tullgren sings, finding this space between Judee Sill and Sam Jayne. It's a tone that signals weariness, but a weariness hand-in-hand with tenacity. There's a clarity, a kind of immovability. Lina Tullgren's first record came in 2016, a homemade, under-the-skin set of laments. Subsequent LPs and constant touring cemented Tullgren's reputation as a composer of "wide-eyed wonder paired with a resonant despair." 2019's Free Cell showed Tullgren lingering in the margins of their songs, finding places both aloof and spare. Floodgates opened; Tullgren spent the subsequent years exploring deep listening, improvised music, and extended technique. They developed a patience and faith in cooperation that ranged at the far edge of song. Collaborations with Mayo Thompson and Claire Rousay furthered this development. This was not a break with the past for Tullgren, rather it was an opportunity to see how far a song could go. And from that distance, deep in a landscape of drone and tension, Tullgren returned to the bright vulnerability of a lyric and a hook. Weaving together the affective and the radical, Tullgren took the quiet isolation of a shoreline cabin to write the songs that would become Decide Which Way The Eyes Are Looking. For Tullgren, Decide is a culmination of all the work they've done throughout their life: the melodic, the dense, the confessional, the unknowable. It's also a tribute to collaboration. Describing the sessions as having "a lot of space and a lot of ease,"" Tullgren invited musicians from a vast field of songmaking to play on the recording: Leng Bian, Zach Burba, Luke Csehak, Corey Fogel, Jenny Hirons, Tara Milch, Tim Ramsey, Michael Sachs, Jude Tedaldi, Marta Tiesenga and Ben Varian. Jonny Kosmo's backhouse was offered as a cozy, easygoing space for the players to create their parts together, and the record was completed by Tullgren and Luke Csehak together at their Los Angeles home. In Tullgren's words: "I feel really strongly that this album is a portrait of the community I found in Los Angeles." Decide Which Way The Eyes Are Looking is a quiet masterpiece: a generous, memorable journey. It is the result of five years of labor, the product of abandoning the pop song entirely and starting over. Whatever wanderings or doubt fueled it, Decide is also entirely at ease: a record on which Tullgren sings "and I know/what to do now" and "I know exactly what to do" in subsequent songs, clear in the revelations this path has given the

Rauelsson's third solo album for Sonic Pieces focuses on simplicity and minimalism. It recalibrates his love for ambient with an austere approach that conjures an atmosphere of silence and solitude. On Niu, the artist has traded his craft for shimmering layers of sound clusters and electronic editing in favor of a predominantly raw and acoustic recording.

Recorded primarily in Sofia and Berlin and mixed at Saal 3 of Funkhaus Berlin, Niu presents a 9-song journey that includes orchestral compositions, delicate synth miniatures, and sparse brass and woodwind drones with room for spoken word and a hint of psychedelic noir fable. The result is an album that, despite the eclectic choice of instrumentation, paints a landscape of spiritual clarity; an album that without being typically classical, still feels like a classical album. Three themes vary across the 9 pieces, starting with the purely orchestral "Prelude No. 7" before moving on to airy synth bass arpeggio and pedal steel. With more changing instruments, Raúl next takes us into a fairytale flute composition with guest flutist Heather Woods Broderick and brass vibrations by the trio Zinc & Copper. Finally, Katrine Grarup Elbo recites a poem by Raúl, ending the piece on a somber but beautiful note. The rest of the album continues in this vein, creating a unique sound that surprises the listener at every turn. Niu is a real departure from the artist's previous works in both scope and musicality. Everything was recorded without overdubs and with only minimal editing, trying to preserve the feeling of music coming from a room where musicians play live. Overall, this is music that finds comfort in movement as much as in pause and silence; music in which tenderness and tension exist in the same gesture.

The album also follows a certain mysticism with its poetic interludes, alternate track lists and titles like "Podium Of Riddles", "A Keyhole-Shaped Island" and "Ceramic Swallows, Set Of 3". Perhaps, given enough time, a hidden meaning or a new perception will be revealed. Niu is also set to be expanded into an art book, containing poems and photographs by Raúl, as well as an exhibition. Perhaps the key lies somewhere in there.

Whales are the largest animals the Earth has ever borne. They feed on krill. They sing. Listen to them. Listen to the whale is Kriill's second studio album. Four years of their lives. One twentieth of human life. This album is a tribute to the magical carefree spirit we humans are capable of in our daily lives, despite the perspective of imminent collapse. An elegant, creative alternative-rock album, with a singular, audacious sound, harmonized vocals and sassy guitars. A generous musical expression of vertigo in the face of the work of the Universe.

Kriill is a music group on Earth, made up of Klaar Frankenberg, Richard Pons and Eliott Sigg.
Krill are the trillions of tiny crustaceans that inhabit the world's oceans and represent the planet's largest animal biomass.

Swedish veterans Gin Lady are back with another brilliant 70's infused classic rock/progressive album. It's their first for Ripple Music who are stoked beyond words in welcoming the band to the family!

Available on Bedroom Isolation Frosted Silver Still Void Crystal Clear vinyl for indies only. Genre: Indie Rock / Electronic. Following his post-hardcore heroics with Indian Summer and Calm, Marc Bianchi unplugged his distortion pedal and switched on the four track. From his boyhood San Mateo, California bedroom, Her Space Holiday explores the bewilderment of young adulthood through a dreamy prozac lens. This expanded 25th anniversary edition of Home Is Where You Hang Yourself includes an extra LP of remixed songs from Duster, Bright Eyes, Micromars, and Mahogany, an elegant tip-on jacket, lyrics, and 20 milligrams of millennial malaise. Ask your doctor if Her Space Holiday is right for you

Available on Bedroom Isolation Frosted Silver Still Void Crystal Clear vinyl for indies only. Genre: Indie Rock / Electronic. Following his post-hardcore heroics with Indian Summer and Calm, Marc Bianchi unplugged his distortion pedal and switched on the four track. From his boyhood San Mateo, California bedroom, Her Space Holiday explores the bewilderment of young adulthood through a dreamy prozac lens. This expanded 25th anniversary edition of Home Is Where You Hang Yourself includes an extra LP of remixed songs from Duster, Bright Eyes, Micromars, and Mahogany, an elegant tip-on jacket, lyrics, and 20 milligrams of millennial malaise. Ask your doctor if Her Space Holiday is right for you

Available on Bedroom Isolation Frosted Silver Still Void Crystal Clear vinyl for indies only. Genre: Indie Rock / Electronic. Following his post-hardcore heroics with Indian Summer and Calm, Marc Bianchi unplugged his distortion pedal and switched on the four track. From his boyhood San Mateo, California bedroom, Her Space Holiday explores the bewilderment of young adulthood through a dreamy prozac lens. This expanded 25th anniversary edition of Home Is Where You Hang Yourself includes an extra LP of remixed songs from Duster, Bright Eyes, Micromars, and Mahogany, an elegant tip-on jacket, lyrics, and 20 milligrams of millennial malaise. Ask your doctor if Her Space Holiday is right for you.

Available on Bedroom Isolation Frosted Silver Still Void Crystal Clear vinyl for indies only. Genre: Indie Rock / Electronic. Following his post-hardcore heroics with Indian Summer and Calm, Marc Bianchi unplugged his distortion pedal and switched on the four track. From his boyhood San Mateo, California bedroom, Her Space Holiday explores the bewilderment of young adulthood through a dreamy prozac lens. This expanded 25th anniversary edition of Home Is Where You Hang Yourself includes an extra LP of remixed songs from Duster, Bright Eyes, Micromars, and Mahogany, an elegant tip-on jacket, lyrics, and 20 milligrams of millennial malaise. Ask your doctor if Her Space Holiday is right for you.

’之 / OF is a word that can be used as a preposition to express the relationship between a part and a whole. It is an unfinished tone, a broken sentence, a start and a whole. It is sustainable, full of potentials and longings.’’

London based performance and sound artist Li Yilei shared an experience familiar to many migrants during the past year of COVID-19 chaos. With their UK visa set to expire, and family back in China, Li made a last-minute dash to return to their nation of birth. Able to board one of the last few flights to China during the initial turmoil of the coronavirus outbreak, Li made it back to Shanghai for a two-week stint in a quarantine hotel.

Though Li had already begun creating OF, the reality of the pandemic began to seep into the recordings. Each of the 12 tracks is a study in horology, using metaphorical sound transcriptions and atmospheric extractions to focus on the temporal relationship between experience and surroundings. Li’s awareness of their own understanding of time became increasingly heightened during quarantine and the emotional involvement found within these new realities informed many of the sounds created.

‘’I tried to portray each song as a short, scattered poem - a moment that I captured to represent each hour.’’

Composed using analogue synthesisers, vocal samples, field recordings and string instruments such as the violin and guqin, Li indulges in moments of grief, panic, healing, cessation, melancholy, vastness, hope, joy and emptiness as they explore the acoustic relations between humans and the many forces of nature.

The art of the Song Dynasty, with its ancient traditions of poetry and timekeeping, were also great sources of inspiration for the album - whilst paintings from the period, specifically those of flowers and birds, are common themes throughout the tracks. Indeed, it is within the vastness of time that the album artwork comes to relevance. The eighth emperor of the Song Dynasty, Huizong, was a revered artist and a scene from his work ‘Finches and Bamboo’ adorns the album cover.

Singer, songwriter and composer Melike Şahin is set to releases her new album AKKOR via Gülbaba Records in partnership with Day Dreamer

An empowering assertion of survival that propels traditional Anatolian pop and folk influences into the future, AKKOR rises like a phoenix from the flames to reintroduce the Turkish superstar diva to an international audience. An expression of Şahin’s personal growth, the album is an affirmation of her growing status as the voice of a generation, and hose lyrics have been adopted as a callto rights for the women’s movement in Turkey.

Recorded live in London with producer Martin Terefe (London Brew, Buika, Jamie Cullum), AKKOR features a selection of the most talented and forward-thinking musicians on the scene, including guitarists Dave Okumu and violinist Raven Bush, as well as terling Campell (David Bowie) on drums, Glen Scott (Eric Bibb) and Nikolaj mTorp Larsen on keyboards. Bringing an international feel to her mheart-rending performances, the record represents the most focussed and complete expression of Şahin’s sound to date. Melike Şahin has made a career of facing down criticism and censorship to make sumptuous and provocative music that captures the defiant tone of progressive creativity in contemporary Turkey. Having performed around the world with Turkish psych legends BaBa ZuLa, Şahin released her debut album Merhem in 2021, gathering billions of streams and building a reputation for unforgettable live performances in the process. Influenced by the style of Sade, cutting an elegant and beguiling figure on the stage. Where Şahin describes Merhem as about healing, she says AKKOR is about survival, both on an emotional level, coming to terms with difficult relationships, childhood trauma and the pressures of newfound fame, and on a social level, in continuing the champion the rights of the oppressed in the face of state and media violence. Powerful and vulnerable in equal measure, AKKOR demonstrates an orchestral grandeur and a dramatic flair drawn from Şahin’s love for traditional Anatolian pop and folk music, injected with the urgency of contemporary production. Bound together by Şahin’s inimitable voice AKKOR skips between Middle Eastern melancholy and classic disco hedonism, for an album that is as stylistically open, pluralistic and affirmative as the messages the music carries.

Although she does not describe herself as an activist, Şahin’s poignant lyrics have come to define the women’s movement in Turkey, with the words, “I deserve each and every inch of this smile,”adorning protest banners on International Women’s Day and celebratory posters at Pride.

“This is the moment that I told myself, Yes, I am an artist,” Şahin says. “I am bearing all of the other things because of this, because I am affecting people's lives, and I am giving some power.” AKKOR – which translates as candescent – finds Melike rising again and burning brighter than ever before.

Overall though, Şahin says AKKOR is her rebirth album – a statement of self-empowerment, through which she hopes tocontinue to raise up the voices of those around her. “You are seeinga woman who falls down, but who rises again and flies,” sheexplains. “Maybe she doesn't win, maybe she doesn't lose, but she's a survivor,” Şahin concludes. “She is a phoenix.”