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IOTUNN means Giant! IOTUNN's Metal Blade Records debut "Access All Worlds" is an epic; a cosmic and contemplative journey of energetic beauty and ferocity that reflects on human existence set in a story line following daring space travelers. The music is grounded in roaring, colorful drumming and crushing bass, while the sonic horizon is painted with a vast spectrum of guitar-driven expression, all over arched by narration through diverse vocals.

Freestyle Records drop another UK boogie 12" rarity from Eddie Capone's Treatment, this time the previously white label-only "Only You Know What I Like" from 1985. Limited to 300 copies worldwide.

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A mainstay of the UK's reggae, soul, funk & rock circuits since the early 1970s, Eddie Capone has played with a diverse and revered collection of acts; Chairmen of the Board, The Foundations, Black Velvet, The Elgins, Arthur Brown's Kingdom Come, Arthur Lee's Love, Billy Preston and Edwin Starr to name but a few. Eddie was also part of short-lived group Casablanca, with David Costa & Barry Clarke of early 70's folk-rockers Trees, signed to Elton John's Rocket Record Company.

Eddie founded the Treatment band in the early 1980s bringing in a revolving cast of singers and players, and created the Treatment Records imprint out of his own Black Rock studio in South East London in 1982. Releasing a string of singles - with efforts from Eddie Capone's Treatment, a side-project with singer Beryl Marsden as Salt & Pepper, and a single from Norwegian group Wave - Treatment Records then followed this up in 1985 with the 12" release of "I Won't Give You Up" with Diane Jones brought in on vocal duties. This received solid support amongst DJs and radio at the time, and was quickly followed with this solid slice of white label-only UK boogie-funk that has since become a favoured deep cut on the selectors circuit.

Treatment Records continued through the 1980s through to early 1990s releasing Eddie's music, both as a solo artist and as part of collaborative side-projects, and Eddie has continued to write, perform and produce music from his home studio right through to the present day. As a committed community figure & activist in South East London, Eddie has since 2014 re-started Treatment Records under the name of 3G Treatment - bringing together three generations of people from the local area to ensure young artists & musicians have access to the expertise and experience of their elders for support and encourage successful careers in the industry.

This self-titled LP marks the fifth release of Scottish artist Murray Collier’s Dip Friso project, his longest running alias and the solitary vanguard of his own Real Landscape imprint. Across the six tracks he delivers another collection of warped percussive loops, heavily manipulated guitar work and psychedelic sound experiments that drift between popular music forms ('I’ll Get to Hiding') and whittled down takes on electric blues and shoegaze ('Another Country’). The former features the instantly recognisable croon of Still House Plants vocalist Jess HK embellishing a backdrop of tape loop alchemy, an inspired pairing given the shared history of Glasgow dwelling. ‘Thin Ayrshire’ (written with Hannan Jones) treads a similar path with Collier’s own beyond-unrecognisable voice featuring, broken suddenly by a brief flash of 12th Isle’s Loris S. Sarid & Innis Chonnel’s ‘Spalted Water Portal’ thanks to a recycled tape spool. ‘A Sorry Business’ takes on avant-jazz inspired puddle skronk, a stunted casio bleep propelling forward guitar dirge and cymbal crashes, whilst Australian minimal wave heroes The Systematics are paid homage via a farewell cover of their track ‘Midnight on Balancing Day’ (here ‘Midnight’).

All in, the album sees the project incorporating more instrumentation and a full use of vocalists, leaning less heavily on gauzy sample collage styles and providing a more introspective look at the hazy, dubwise world Collier has been building for the past half a decade.

Water ripples all around, and echoing sounds stretch out into a shady sub aquatic habitat. Its dark corners slowly burst into view as cresting noises reveal fresh caverns teeming with liquid life. This is Sueños acuáticos, the latest sonic exploration from Lamina, a musical project by French artist, Clarice Calvo-Pinsolle. Built from years of carefully gathered field recordings, the album constructs immersive, detailed soundscapes where watery environments, caves, and forests intertwine with digital manipulations.

Rooted in the myth of the ‘Lamina’, a creature from Basque folklore, the project blends this oral tradition with technology to build a geological myth. The Lamina’s world—a nocturnal ecosystem of water and stone—serves as the foundation for the album’s sound design. Lamina reshapes these natural recordings into something new: stretching, pitching, and layering them to build intricate sound environments that feel simultaneously organic and synthetic. “I transform these sounds much like I would sculpt in ceramics,” explains Calvo-Pinsolle, “by adding, removing material, and imagining landscapes.

Drawing from hydrofeminist and posthuman ideas, particularly those in Astrida Neimanis’ Bodies of Water, the album treats sound like water—shifting, flowing, connecting, and buoying life. Tracks flow into one another without clear boundaries, much like the natural currents they represent. The result is a continuous listening experience, inviting deep focus on texture above melody.

Lamina is exploring the potential of the field recording as a compositional tool. Natural sounds, like trickling water or wind through trees, are processed out of recognition—or cliché. A sense of weightless immersion takes hold as Lamins’a music unfolds, and listeners float freely and choose their own adventure in the Lamina’s home. Less a set of songs than its own evolving environment, Sueños acuáticos (‘Aquatic Dreams’ in English) is a meticulously constructed work in which we can freely float.

Forging his own path into the future... With roots in the U.K. club and hip-hop scenes, drummer Richard Spaven brings a fresh approach to the instrument that's at once modern and traditional. Combining machine-like accuracy with jazz-influenced improvisational sensibilities, Spaven's drumming has landed him gigs with vastly varied artists such as UK rapper Loyle Carner, Guru of hip-hop duo Gang Starr, producer Flying Lotus, vocalist José James and Brainfeeder artist Jameszoo. Spaven's brilliance is evident beyond his world-class performance abilities; he's equally impressive in production and compositional territories.


Sole Subject, a captivating crossover of electronica, hip hop, and jazz, explores the nuanced relationship between live drumming and electronic elements, a theme intricately woven throughout Spaven's sixth solo record. Originating from deep, rhythmic ideas, each track is a testament to intense experimentation and precision. At the core of the album are the drums, captured as full live takes which often blur the lines, appearing as if they were programmed or sampled. Dive into Sole Subject and experience a musical journey where innovation meets tradition, and where each beat tells a story of relentless creativity and dedication. The release of the record will be celebrated with a headline show at Jazz Café October 30th.

Kool Customer is a collaborative project from B. Bravo and Bay area singer Rojai that brings together the sounds of future funk, 80s boogie, and a little bit of strip club sleaze.

B.Bravo is a 2010 graduate of Red Bull Music Academy with releases on Brownswood, Frite Nite and Ernest Endeavors.

Support from the likes of Benji B (BBC Radio 1), Gilles Peterson, DaM Funk, Sweater Funk Collective .

B. Bravo's shared the stage with artists like Chromeo, Dam-Funk, Flying Lotus and serenaded crowds across the world with his bass heavy outer space boogie and dirty grinding synth grooves at festivals like SXSW, Detroit Electronic Music Festival, and Sonar in Barcelona.

Rojai (pronounced "ROW-JUH") is a San Francisco born singer emerging as a leading voice in the modern funk scene with a vocal range from a raspy, percussive island vibe, to silky r&b.

As a frontman for Kool Customer and Latin-funk outfit Bayonics, Rojai has proven himself adept at crooning on any groove in his soulful timbre.

Being legally blind hasn't slowed down Rojai's ability to write, record and perform. He has channeled his life experience into songwriting and singing, creating music with a spirit and soul that inspires.

Extensive sync history include Awkwafina Is Nora From Queens, Netflix's Fatherhood, as well as 3 unique songs featured on Tyler Perry's Sistas and more

POSY is the recording name of Rudy Klobas, Portland-based producer and multi-instrumentalist with a unique sound that intersects jazz, R&B, and electronic music

A true DIY and analog enthusiast, POSY plays every instrument but the horns onThe Gardenand recorded with vintage gear onto reel to reel tape

Has received extensive Spotify editorial playlist support having been added to Lofi Beats, Soft Office, Office Studio, Fresh Finds Jazz and more

Worldwide Radio support from stations like KEXP + KCRW (US), JazzFM, Soho Radio, + NTS (UK), 2SER (AU) and more

Press support includes JAZZIZ, Stereofox, Clash Magazine, Fusicology, and more

Tristan Arp returns to Wisdom Teeth with his sophomore LP: ‘a pool, a portal’ - a vast, multi-dimensional record of pin-drop rhythms, hushed vocals and swirling ambience that maps out a vivid limbic space between the natural and the digital worlds. The LP began life while Tristan was still living in Mexico City, and was subsequently finished in New York. Carrying on from where his acclaimed debut ‘Sculpturegardening’ left off, the record marries hallucinatory modular synths with cello, found sound and spoken word, creating a rich sonic world in which machines mimic nature and acoustic instruments merge with their digital counterparts. Across the record’s narrative arc, listeners are invited to imagine a future world in which nature and machines collaborate to rewild and search for new modes of being. Far from apocalyptic, the artist’s vision is yearning and hopeful - a reflection on how we might evolve to overcome our very human limitations. “Hopefully we can all open a little portal into another world and integrate what we learn into our own”, Tristan offers. True to his word, Tristan shared much of the creative process with his machines, using modular generative processes to create randomised, improvisatory moments that he could collaborate on as artist and observer. Most of the tracks were captured in single takes as live performances and improvisations that were subsequently edited and cut down. Speaking of ‘Life After Humans’ - the record’s beguiling 10-minute centrepiece - Tristan recalls: “I neglected to record multi-track outs, but it was actually super empowering to be left with just a stereo track: I couldn’t mix individual elements even if I wanted to after the recording, but I’m happy I inadvertently limited myself in that way.” Alongside his own voice, the record features a stunning appearance from fast-rising Guatemalan cellist and vocalist, Mabe Fratti. The pair met in Mexico City in 2020, where she helped Tristan to learn cello - an encounter that ultimately went on to inform the recordings that made up ‘Sculpturegardening’. Her appearance on ‘a pool, a portal’ marks a full-circle moment in their creative relationship. The album’s artwork features photography by Zhang An - a photographer based in Nanjing, China. Despite their appearances, these are unmanipulated photos of real-world ice formations. As is the case throughout ‘a pool, a portal’, the lines between the natural and the artificial are playfully indistinct.

Jawad Nawfal and Mazen El Sayed, better known by their stage names of MUNMA and EL RASS, met for the first time in Beirut, during the summer of 2011. A common friend told Jawad wonders about an MC who rapped and slammed in the classical Arabic language, as opposed to the vernacular Lebanese dialect. The two musicians met in a small café in Beirut’s Hamra neighborhood, spoke of music, argued about politics, and decided to collaborate at once. They began working on tracks the following day. A month later, they had already produced a dozen sketches, instrumental beds and accapella vocal tracks. These demos eventually landed in the hands of Ziad Nawfal and Fadi Tabbal, who set out to bring to life the duo’s first recorded album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” (the title is from a Sufi master-work penned some 900 years ago) was eventually released as a limited edition of 500 CD’s, during a launch event at then-budding alternative venue Metro al Madina in Hamra, on the 22nd of February 2012. These CDs went out of print in record time, as can be expected, and the album’s mythical status became reinforced over time – El Rass & Munma collaborated sporadically during the next ten years, but never fully grasped the level of musical intensity and explosive tension attained on this first outing. It has been a longstanding dream of ours, here at Ruptured, to produce a vinyl version of this album, and we are thrilled to say this moment has finally come. Artist ALI RAFEI’s original artworks have been painstakingly reproduced, the music has been dutifully remastered for vinyl by CEDRIK FERMONT, and the records were pressed by our friends at Mother Tongue in Verona. We added bonus track "Fi Kala'at Tarablus" to this 10th anniversary reissue for good measure – recorded during the same sessions that yielded “Kachf el Mahjoub”, it appears on the digital version of the album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” is a landmark album in Lebanon’s alternative music scene, and the MENA region’s hiphop and indie scenes writ large. At the time of their collaboration, El Sayed was a prolific writer and musician, at ease with a variety of instruments, notorious for his masterful flow in the classical Arabic language, with lyrics tackling both social and political sensitive subjects; Nawfal has previously released an impressive number of albums and EPs, exploring downtempo electronica and ambient dubstep, for a number of Lebanese and international labels. The collision of the former’s brazen, slammed vocals and the latter’s harsh beats works wonders on “Kachf el Mahjoub”, Munma’s sound-world perfectly fitting El Rass’s agitated discourse, alternating between broken beats, elaborate percussion, and ambient layers of synths. At times reminiscent of mutant hiphop outfit Shabazz Palaces, at others of the collaboration between dubstep producer Kode9 and the late vocalist The SpaceApe, this album is an uncanny meeting of Arabic hip-hop and electronica, an exceptional event in the realm of contemporary Lebanese alternative music.

This soundtrack album, recorded with an orchestra, is based on the image album of ‘Whisper of the Heart.’ It also includes the main theme song, "Country Road."

A collection of music created based on Hayao Miyazaki's storyboards and sketches. Includes four vocal tracks.

DJ Support: Marco Calora, Jamie Jones, Eliza Rose, Peggy Gou, Richie Hawtin, Gorgon City

Southern Fried Record’s gargantuan 500th single ‘Role Model’ welcomed back label head Fatboy Slim to the delight of fans around the world. After bonding on a South American tour, Norman Cook asked Parisian DJ,producer, multi-instrumentalist and label owner, Chloe Caillet, to remix Role Model, and she has delivered this monster!

'Let Me Go' by South African House legend Jullian Gomes, Mule music producer and Sapporo based sound designer Kuniyuki Takahashi, and Sio fresh after recently signing an album deal with Stay True Sounds/Defected, is elevated with fresh interpretations from UK super-producer & house legend Atjazz and St Louis born Yoruba label boss Osunlade, alongside the amazing original cut. House music from all corners of globe…you need this.

Having spent their formative years in São Paulo Brazil, as a teenager, Lau Ro found themself uprooted from their home. Moving with their family to Europe in search of a better quality of life, their story was like that of many immigrants in the same position. Lau Ro's parents found work in factories and cleaning jobs, for the first few years in the North of Italy and then in Brighton on England's Southern coast. "We never managed to visit back home, so my connection to Brazil became largely made up of childhood memories and my fascination with all the 60s and 70s music I could find from there."

In Brighton, the young non-binary singer and composer would immerse themself amongst the city's vanguard of free-thinking artists and musicians. Lau Ro formed Wax Machine whose prefigurative, psychedelic community provided a glimmer of countercultural hope amid a backdrop of national political decline. From 2020-23, Wax Machine birthed three cult-favourite albums in as many years; indebted in part to their British psychedelic forebears from progressive folk, rock and jazz yore. But the kernel of Lau's Brazilian sound was already beginning to blossom across Wax Machine's releases. Now, taking root deeper still, Lau Ro steps forward with their debut album: Cabana.

Named after the small wood cabin at the bottom of their garden where the album was recorded, Cabana is a deeply personal record of memory, self-discovery and imagination. Melancholy and hope combine across ten tracks of dreamy bossa, ambient folk, fuzzy tropicalia and majestic MPB. The music is swathed in masterful string arrangements and trippy electronics in equal part, while Lau Ro's delicate, yet quietly confident voice takes acerbic aim (in both English and Portuguese) at polluted city life, while dreaming of a utopia, rich with nature and wildlife.

Like the musical equivalent of semantic drift, Lau Ro's displacement led to the creation of another Brazil. A mythic place in Lau's soul, as they put it, "where the sunshine and joy of my childhood remained untapped." Lau continues: "It's music that might sound as if it came out of a parallel universe Brazil, rather than its modern day landscape. I am nowadays rediscovering Brazil, going back as often as I can and trying to stay connected to these different parts of the world and myself."

Back in 2022, James Burnham aka Burnski started a White sub-series of his much-hyped Instinct label and the first one sold out as quick as a flash. Now he is finally back with a follow-up that will likely do the same. This limited one-sided 12" slab of sonic filth features just one tune, but what a tune it is. '02' is a house cut with elements of garage percussion, old-school dirty bass, and even some trance-infused chords that chime with what's going on in the dance world right now. Some return horns at the breakdown really send it into overdrive and it's not hard seeing this one blow the roof off many a club this summer.

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

On How It Ends (?), slinky melodies snake through nocturnal atmospherics, drawing you into a world built on poetic, painterly lyricism. Night Crickets, a long-distance groove affair that materialized during the drawn-out days of lockdown, has emerged once again to soundtrack our waking dreams.

David J (Bauhaus, Love & Rockets), Victor DeLorenzo (Violent Femmes) and multi-instrumentalist Darwin Meiners spearhead a loose collective of like-minded creative souls whom, through sheer tenacity and a burning desire to collaborate and create, transcend the restrictions of space and time. Audio files shared from Los Angeles to Milwaukee, from London to the San Francisco Bay, and the ghosts of Candlestick Park shimmer through the fog, coalescing in a glorious ‘gesamtkunstwerk’ that draws from the past, the present and the imagined future.

Declaring Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Violent Femmes iconic, foundational bands in the history of alternative music would receive little pushback from those in the know. San Francisco born artist Darwin Meiners is a fan of all three. A chance meeting with David J grew into a friendship, and Darwin not only became a bandmate, but his manager. After reaching out to Victor DeLorenzo through e-mail, Darwin met the Violent Femmes drummer after their set at Coachella. Soon, after the three collaborated on Darwin’s 2014 release Souvenir.

As the pandemic took hold, Darwin was looking for a new project to occupy the lock down time and approached Victor, who was keen to proceed and suggested that David join as well. The musical trust established between these three was immediate and Night Crickets were born. Within weeks a global process was initiated between them, the recordings eventually forming the album, A Free Society.

Following that release, inspired by how well – and quickly – they all worked together, the trio kept up their collaboration. “We are each free to discover musical connections that could only exist in an ideal creative setting” explains Victor. “We are very lucky to have three musicians who write, sing and play various instruments in one trio… our egos seem to melt into one when we face musical decisions, so our expeditions are always filled with pure discovery, humor and drive!”

How It Ends (?) was crafted with the same collaborative spirit as A Free Society. Each member contributed contributed unique elements to spur their collective creativity—whether a drum pattern, a lyrical concept, or a musical idea—and together, they expanded these initial sparks into the finished work. True to their approach, much of what you hear was captured in the first take, reflecting a genuine, unfiltered moment.

The music on the How It Ends (?) is a true evolution of the debut album. It is deeper and darker. Having said that, the dark tone is alleviated by a healthy measure of the buoyant, bouncy and melodic. “Much of the new material is very psychedelic and the contrast between this heavy, dark psychedelia and the more uplifting pop elements puts me in mind of The Beatles’ ‘Revolver’ album to some degree,” tells David J. “The recording process for the new album was exactly the same as the first in that we all recorded remotely, taking turns to share files and reacting spontaneously to the previous track, overdubbing then passing on once again until we all felt that the track was done.”

“While we didn’t start with a specific theme, the album emerged as a contemplative exploration of endings” says Darwin. “It touches on the loss of individuals, the shifting of ideas, and the fragility of systems. Beneath this sense of darkness and finality, however, there are threads of beauty and glimpses of hope. We invite you to immerse yourself in the album and experience the journey we’ve embarked upon.”

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

Toronto’s long-running hardcore titans return with a new seven-track LP that fuses their many strengths
into the ultimate slab of S.H.I.T. While S.H.I.T.’s previous 12” leaned into the gnarlier, more chaotic
aspects of their sound, For a Better World returns to the infectious bouncy rhythms and earworm riffing
that made S.H.I.T.’s 7” EPs classics of modern punk. S.H.I.T. has always been a riff machine, and For a
Better World adds “Corporate Funded Killing Technology,” “Imminent Destruction,” and the climactic
closer, “Captive (… in the Mutilated Vista)” to their bulging canon of monster hooks.

The 2015 edition of Winnipeg’s send + receive festival, focussed on rhythm, turned out to be a generative meeting of minds. There, Mark Fell encountered the music of Will Guthrie, a meeting that was eventually to result in the frenetic acoustic drumkit and digital synthesis pairing heard on Infoldings and Diffractions (2020). At the same festival, Limpe Fuchs first heard and appreciated the music of Mark Fell, planting the seed of a collaboration that came to fruition when Fell (along with his son Rian Treanor) visited Fuchs at her home in Peterskirchen, Germany in September 2022. Black Truffle is pleased to announce the release of the results of this extensive session in the audacious form of a triple LP, housing over two hours of music across its six sides. The collaboration might appear unlikely: what common ground could exist between Fuchs, classically trained pianist, legend of improvised music, instrument builder and sound sculptor active since the 1960s, whose group Anima Sound connected the dots between free jazz, krautrock and ritual, and Fell, proponent of radical computer music, known for his bracingly austere productions that twist remnants of club music into algorithmic stutters? For all their seeming disparity in technology, approach and background, the music on Dessogia/Queetch/Fauch makes it immediately evident the pair share a great deal in their essentially percussive approach and ability to, in Fuch’s phrase, ‘establish silence’. Recording at her home studio, Fuchs had the use of her entire array of instruments, found, invented, and traditional, and treats the listener to some that don’t often make their way to concerts, including extensive passages performed (with Gundis Stalleicher) on pieces of wooden parquetry. Alongside metallic, wooden and skin percussion of all kinds, sounded and struck in every conceivable way, we also hear bamboo flute, viola, and Fuchs’ distinctive free-form vocalisations. Fell also stretched himself, with his contributions ranging from characteristically fizzing pitched percussive pops to swarms of sliding tones and abstract digital noise. Showing both remarkable restraint and improvisational freedom, much of the music consists of duets between a single percussion instrument and a distinctive mode of digital sound, often lingering in one timbral-rhythmic space for minutes at a time. Improvisational forward momentum coexists with a free-floating, wandering quality. On opener ‘Dessogia I’, the shimmering almost-gilssandi tones of Fuchs’ enormous set of microtonally tuned metal tubes ripples across Fell’s rubbery pulse, which moves up the frequency spectrum as Fuchs becomes more animated and switches to horn. At some points, as on the metallic chiming tones that open ‘Fauch I’, only the unexpected dynamic behaviour of Fell’s sounds distinguish them from Fuchs’ acoustic instruments. At others, like on ‘Queetch III’, the waves of sliding tones and noise textures are bracingly synthetic, joined by piercing squeaks and scrapes from Fuchs’ metal objects. Epic in scope, immersing the listener in an entirely distinctive world of sounds, and thrillingly bold in its melding of the most ancient musical procedures with cutting edge technologies, Dessogia/Queetch/Fauch is an unexpected major statement from two of the great mavericks of contemporary music.