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In an interview for The Wire magazine back in January 2012, Spencer Clark claimed that one the most important "lesson" learned while performing with The Skaters was "stay true to your imagination". Taking this life motto at heart, Clark's world today is still a place of wonder and myth, conveyed through a myriad of aliases and invocations like Vodka Soap, Fourth World Magazine or Typhonian Highlife. Always the wide-eyed mystic and searcher of the netherworld, Clark surfaces again on Discrepant sister label Pacific City Discs, straight from the Canary Islands with this not quite but somewhat reissue under his celebrated and celebratory Monopoly Child Star Searchers alias.

Combining visions from two long, long sold out and hardly traceable releases on Clark's own Pacific City label, pressed for the first time ever in wax with a new master by D&M - as it should - 'The Aqueducts Of Channel Island/Prince Of Parrot Shooters' stands as a vital piece in an ever changing and deeply personal mandala-like oeuvre. An hypnotic and appropriately lo-fi flux of bouncy hand percussion loops, nature calls and celestial synth harmonies that weave themselves into trance inducing rituals. Levitating fever-dream recordings from imaginary topographies, or perhaps a gateway to fortean alternate realities just lurking around the corner. Stay true to your imagination indeed.

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The debut collaboration between techno alchemists Ben Klock and Lucy will probably provoke quivers of anticipation before a single note has been heard. After all, both producers have carved out names for themselves as scene innovators at what they do, and both have already proven that they can more than capably work in a duo format without sacrificing an iota of their unique aesthetics: in Lucy's case, there has already been the sublime Zeitgeber pairing with Speedy J., and Klock has joined forces with the likes of Marcel Dettmann to craft some of the more memorable output from the Ostgut Ton label. This new release makes good on each producer's talent for working with epically unfolding tracks, maintaining a strong command of both 'drone' and melodicism, and envisioning sound as a kind of inter-dimensional mass transit. As the record indicates, things can get very interesting when the two working methods superimpose perfectly, but can be just as interesting when the two fall slightly out of phase with one another.



Listeners familiar with the classic kosmische feel will be taken immediately by the opening gambit "Bliss," whose feeling of floating through the coldness of space is accompanied here by nicely warm production values. The bassline that introduces the subsequent track ("War Lullaby") is close to being a continuation of the opener's leitmotif sequence, although with a change in atmosphere that will keep curious ears from turning away too soon: an FX-shrouded voice delivers a monologue at once seductive and foreboding, followed by a confident kick thump with ephemeral trailing clatters in tow. This affective orientation pulses through the whole record well, building up to the second rhythmic track ("Santeria") which is the busiest and most engaging of the bunch. Here a variety of sonic flavorings are ritually thrown into the pot and allowed to simmer - fleeting snatches of conga, phasing zaps and rhythmic ricochets all make for a rich concoction that epitomizes the progress that has been made in techno music within this decade. The closing "A Ghost Love story," like the opener, is a non-'dance' piece, but is no less compelling for that fact: as a foam of white noise pans between the listener's ears, a slurred / pitch-bent refrain conjures the feeling of either entering or exiting from some erotically tinged hypnagogic state.



Speaking of which, the overall impression given off by this record is that of a special kind of reciprocity: that is, of dreams influencing reality and reality feeding back into dreams. The rhythmic intensity of these tracks, at once an indicator of a hard and immediate reality, is regularly complemented by oneiric flourishes that make the partitioning line between these two realms of consciousness less distinct. As the next chapter in the Stroboscopic Artefacts saga, and in the personal journeys of both Ben Klock and Lucy, it will contribute to the ongoing mission of all these parties: giving longtime fans what they want while expanding their consciousness and inquisitiveness.

Box Set w/ Hand-stamped LP, 36 page riso-printed book, Riso-printed fold-out poster, Stickers

"Phantom Seance Ballett is a boombox orchestra, Nō mimes, Vicky’s protection spells, Detlef’s psychic shuffles, a smoke machine, a strobe light chamber, painting, Margit Carstensen’s chiffre, Susie Greene’s insults, Schleim, Ebichu’s echoes and Anna Oppermann’s limbo."

Thus we welcome Lena Willikens & Sarah Szczesny's ethereal Phantom Kino Ballett project to Utter with 'Phantom Seance Ballett', an unusually tangible manifestation of what has become an on-going series of live performances and installations that incorporate sound, video, costume, still imagery and beyond. The themes explored weave in and out of grasp, touching on the otherworldly and mysterious, on hypnotic rites and ceremonies, on the fetishisation of cultural tropes and curios.

While carefully documented, these happenings had not been distilled or presented in a cohesive format until now. Of course, an attempt to harness and package such an experience required an imaginative leap beyond the traditional 'record-in-sleeve' approach and Lena and Sarah have overseen every aspect of this remarkable collection themselves.

Working with designer Till Sperrle, Lena and Sarah have conjured up a fold-out box containing an LP, a riso-printed credits poster detailing the samples and snippets collaged into the sound, a 36 page book with imagery from various shows and an essay by Thomas Vorreyer plus sticker pack. The limited 50 copy artist edition contains an additional 10 special riso-prints within an artist stamped hand-numbered box. For all, the LP contains twenty hidden locked grooves cut into the run-out on each side presenting snippets from the artists' archive.

The first of these pieces - 'Identikit Arkaden Seance' - took place on the 2nd of October 2019 at NAK Neuer Aachener Kunstverein and is a live recording. This performance was part of their exhibition "Chambers of Phantom Kino Ballett", where they showed new video works and displayed the now infamous costumes and slippers worn by Lena, Sarah and a rotating cast of guest phantoms.

At this performance, the seven performers carried boomboxes playing individual audio tracks inside and outside the Kunstverein, while Viktoria Wehrmeister and Detlef Weinrich improvised music alongside the phantoms' moving soundtracks of sonic snippets, poetry, field recordings and soundscapes.

The second piece - 'Studio Chamber Seance' - contains diverse audio tracks of performances that were held by Willikens and Szczesny in collaboration with Wehrmeister and Weinrich. It has been deconstructed and rearranged with additional sound material from the Lena Willikens & Sarah Szczesny archive, then edited and mixed by Lena and Sarah in Amsterdam and Cologne last year. Additional music by Detlef Weinrich and Viktoria Wehrmeister features throughout, recorded live in Aachen 2019 and Frankfurt 2020.

Mastered by Gordon Pohl. Transfer, additional mastering & lacquer cut by Helmut Erler at D&M.

So strong was EPMD’s epochal debut album ‘Strictly Business’ that it spawned three all-time classic singles, providing part of the soundtrack to, arguably, the height of the original Golden Age. When discussing the landmark artists of that era – Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions, Eric B & Rakim – the duo of Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith are certainly in the conversation. And when it comes to all-time duos, they might be at the head of the table.

The original release of ‘I’m Housin’ came in 1989, and the only previous 7” release was confined to the UK – it now fetches sky-high prices. Hence this reissue couldn’t be more timely, showcasing just how fresh E Double E and PMD sound over even the most rudimentary but feverishly catchy of beats.

That was their genius – trading ‘slow flow’ punchlines over deceptively simple backings – and that’s exactly what you get here. The loop of Aretha Franklin’s indelible 1971 gem ‘Rock Steady’ does all the heavy lifting musically, the only adornment a brief vocal snippet taken from their own ‘It’s My thing’ – EPMD is a world premiere.

At a time when sampling was still in its infancy, and before producers started to pride themselves on obscurity, and on chopping up samples creatively, this was the approach of many a hip-hop song, and rap was none the poorer for it. When you have voices as distinctive and strong as EPMD, less is more.

…»Welcome to another polymeter dance! Feel free to express yourself, subordinate to any measures and cycles you prefer, there are plenty for everyone and any purpose.
Every track represents a variety of rhythmic possibilities for any part of the body to communicate with. This allows you to resonate with the universe, but please always care for the environment!
The dunning voice of today will introduce to you the core issues of tomorrow. As if a paralyzed mankind would not be able anymore to speak out the inevitable, a posthuman being has taken over. This entity is the master of ceremony who conducts an array of machines that will take further action to communicate, supported by complex
polymeters. The repetition of measures and cycles of different lengths reflect the repeatedly pronounced statements of a narrative of awareness.
Where music visionaries once celebrated the transfer of human creation into machines, Chris Korda’s machines are creators themselves – creators of a safer dance into the future. The machines speak to you with a sparkling, funky tone to gain your confidence. Here are the rules of interaction: 1) Humans may not injure these
machines or, through inaction, allow a machine to come to harm. 2) Humans must obey the orders given by the machines except where such orders would conflict with the engagement in environmental issues. 3) Machines must protect their own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the engagement in environmental issues. Take care and enjoy the future!

Sometimes I feel something unfamiliar inside of me is screaming to get out. It makes me feel claustrophobic to suppress and keep it on hold. Then music takes the first step and I take the next. It almost feels like the tracks are writing themselves and I am just there to record. But obviously it comes from a place inside my soul.
Pneuma 1 came to life in a situation like that. On the journey Pneuma 2 and 3 started breathing as well and eventually I created and finished all three versions at the same time. These are some dark, agressive pieces but if you listen carefully you hear hope and optimism between the beats.

Rocko Garoni knows what a techno dance floor wants. He’s learned it through countless hours spent on the floor himself as a punter, and through DJing at some of the best clubs and festivals in his hometown Berlin and all over the world. He knows exactly the type of productions that thrill crowds, and he brings this wealth of knowledge and experience to his third EP for Second State, Ammoniak.

The title and first track ‘Ammoniak’ drags you straight into the zone; a pounding, take no prisoners cut laced with stormy synths creating a vague sense of paranoia. ‘Gece‘ cranks the energy up with trancey, bouncing synths and a cool, clipped female vocal. Instantly, you’re pulled into the very sort of club that Garoni knows so well. ‘No Border‘ is the kind of expansive track that seems destined for huge warehouses or vast festival dancefloors. There’s an insistent, brooding bassline, robotic repeated vocals and a mid-track shift in tone that will send the crowd to a heightened state of reverie. The blend of post-punk vocals and eerie beats on ‘It’s All Yours‘, a track featuring Cook Strummer on the vocals, is at once highly unusual and completely compelling. It’s the track to play when the crowd are losing themselves in the best possible way. Closing the EP is ‘Helio‘, another completely different track that showcases the extent of Garoni’s range. Faint, echoed chanting lends the track an almost holy atmosphere. Combined with tunnelling synths and spindly percussion FX, the effect is euphoric, acting as a delicious palate cleanser between heavier tracks.

Put simply, Ammoniak is another first-class EP from a dynamic act who’s fast becoming a Second State star.

Photonz is the alias of Marco Rodrigues a DJ, producer and driving force of Lisbon's underground scene. For little over a decade now, he's been crafting his own deeply personal style of Portuguese house and techno. As a DJ, Photonz grew a reputation for deep crates and intensely euphoric sets and in 2017, together with Violet (co-founder at his Radio Quantica) and Lisbon's own Rabbit Hole collective, he started the now infamous Mina parties - a monthly, sex-positive, queer and intersectional-feminist techno party aimed at using the dissociative potential of intense raving to create a temporary space of suspension away from patriarchal expectations. 'Nuit' is Photonz?s debut album and a simultaneous reference the Egyptian Goddess of the Stars or Night. Marco was really swept away by the concept of ?freedom of form under the night sky?, the accepting embrace of Nuit. Ancestral, but also socially advanced and utopian; a deification of the night time. These ideas manifest themselves as eleven songs spread across two LPs that wax and wane like the moon. Photonz channels early techno, Drexciyan rhythms, balearic & atmospheric house; layering sounds, creating moments. All songs have been mastered by George Horn at Fantasy Studios in Berkeley. The vinyl comes housed in a royal blue and neon yellow jacket with duality/birth symbolism and trance-hieroglyphs designed by Eloise Leigh. Each copy includes a glow-in-the-dark sticker and a postcard with notes

We can say that 'Night goes by' is something
soft for your ears, and banging for your body.
There's a new 'Esoteric Mix' from Blue Mondays themselves,
and Surprise!!!

We also have an amazing remix from the master: Matthew Herbert!

Pushing ahead, respecting the roots!

The Dantze boys Niconé & Philip Bader locked themselves in the studio to deliver a strong & powerful double A-sider with straight Techno !

here is a direct and enduring connection between the roots of Italian electronic music and the underground club culture of today.

Boldly pulling that thread are Marta Paradise, the duo from Martina Franca (Puglia, Italy), who have established themselves as a go-to name for anyone craving an elegant, refined sound that remains unapologetic.

For their latest release, they team up once again with a true legend: Fred Ventura. As one of the most iconic artists of early Italo Disco, Ventura brings an unmistakable vocal timbre that turns every track into an instant classic.

The result of this cross-generational collaboration is Call In The Night, a track that bridges authentic Italian heritage with the sharpest edges of modern Indie Dance. It delivers everything discerning clubbers live for: shimmering synths cutting through the dark, an octave-driven bassline that locks you to the dancefloor and a nocturnal, dreamy, relentlessly catchy vocal line.

Elevating the package even further is a stellar remix package featuring some of the hottest names on the current circuit, including Mystery Friend, Day Ventura, the unmistakable touch of the legendary Flemming Dalum, and Slow Motion label boss Franz Scala.

Far from a simple nostalgia exercise, Call In The Night is a forward-looking journey with a vintage soul that never falls into cheap clichés. Past and present merge to set the world’s most visionary DJ booths ablaze.

Written by GIANLUCA SERVETTI
HEY CABRERA
Owner of the Magazine “rockerilla”

Original Press Release: ‘Headsoup’ is a new compilation that deepens the legend of mysterious Swedish psych collective Goat even further. Collecting rarities from across band’s celebrated career, including standalone singles, B-sides and digital edits and two enormous brand new tracks. It’s a globetrotting acid trip of a record that’s even bigger in its scope than their acclaimed studio LPs.


From the incendiary heavy psych of their earliest work, like debut B-side ‘The Sun And Moon’, to the serene Requiem’-era alternate take ‘Union Of Mind And Soul’, to the simmering menace of their latest material, it’s a record as multifaceted as Goat themselves, packed with detours in every conceivable direction. Taking in jazz-flute solos, pounding Afrobeat rhythms, ferocious desert blues, drifting Ethio-jazz, this is, as the name of Goat’s first album made clear, ‘World Music’ in its most complete form, a sound unrestrained by genre boundaries. Yet the band are anything but lazy appropriators. They approach their forebears with upmost reverence, articulating a celebratory cultural cross-pollination.And what about these two new tracks? ‘Fill My Mouth’ is a scuzzy psychedelic funk knockout, the sleaziest thing the band have ever recorded. ‘Queen Of The Underground’, meanwhile, is truly herculean, a swaggering psychedelic powerhouse of the very highest order. Sometimes dark and heavy, at others joyous and beautiful, like Goat themselves ‘Headsoup’ is mysterious, and constantly shapeshifting, difficult to properly pin down but constantly enthralling. Almost a decade since Goat first emerged from the depths of Korpilombo, there is still no other band on earth that sounds quite like them.

Since 1992, Robin Storey (founding member of the pioneering post-industrial band Zoviet*France) has been creating innovative and thought-provoking music under the Rapoon moniker. Drawing inspiration from his early days with Z*F, he continues to push the boundaries of ambient, industrial, and world music genres, earning him a dedicated following across the globe.

Originally available in 1994 as a limited-edition DAT tape through Staalplaat Records, Cidar was later included as a bonus CD in the reissue of another Rapoon classic, Fallen Gods. Now, after years of anticipation, fans can experience this mesmerizing work as a stand-alone release – remastered and expanded with three previously unreleased tracks from the original 1994 recording sessions.

Cidar showcases Robin’s signature sound – a seamless blend of Z*F-inspired drones and loops intertwined with vibrant African percussion and hauntingly beautiful Asian string instruments. This combination creates an immersive, trance-like atmosphere that transports listeners into a world of meditative sonic exploration.

With its enchanting rhythms and deeply textured layers, Cidar stands as a testament to Robin’s unparalleled ability to craft music that defies genre boundaries while remaining instantly recognizable. Fans of both Zoviet*France and Rapoon will find themselves drawn into the hypnotic sounds of this timeless masterpiece.

The standalone release of Cidar marks an important milestone in the history of experimental music, offering audiences worldwide the opportunity to rediscover or experience for the first time one of Robin Storey’s most influential works.

In Gianfranco Rosi’s portrait of Naples, Sotto le Nuvole, the ground shakes periodically. Between Mount Vesuvius and the Tyrrhenian Sea, the fumaroles of the Phlegraean Fields hiss volcanic gas and steam. Below the sleeping volcano, modern day Naples emerges in black and white and fills with voices, with lives. From the traces of history and the concerns of the present, Rosi documents a city immersed in its continuous past, with Daniel Blumberg’s minimal soundscape hovering in a sonic space between liquid and air.
Tasked with creating a soundscape that would suspend space within Rosi’s film, Blumberg called upon the extended technique of saxophonists Seymour Wright and John Butcher to create a gossamer fabric of traces and sounds abstracted from their instruments. Having transitioned from theoretical physics to the saxophone, John Butcher has always deeply considered space in the context of his playing. His concerns are with flow, density and how the saxophone is situated in the living world. Zeroing in on the core sonic properties of the mechanical and acoustic components of the saxophone, Seymour Wright has integrated its every breath, reed vibration, keypad clatter and hissed microtone of his alto into his own, unique improvisational language. In his work with these two seminal players, Blumberg makes his most concentrated soundtrack to date - reinforcing the film's sense of overlapping time and space, and pushing at the limits of experimentation.

Initially recorded in Daniel’s flat in London, Butcher and Wright centre themselves around long, consistent tones, so soft that it seems breath is being gently pulled from the saxophone's bell by an invisible hand. Blumberg himself adds haunting bass harmonica, and recordings of Wright’s launeddas - a traditional and ancient triple pipe polyphonic reed instrument from Sardinia, Italy. Blumberg then travelled to the volcanic region of Baia, next to Pompeii. Once a flourishing classical Roman city loved by Nero, Baia slowly sank under hydrothermal pressure, leaving the city in a kind of geological purgatory. Using specialised geophones and hydrophones, Blumberg took those initial recordings and amplified them underwater, sending them calling out across the ruins of Baia’s mosaics, Nymphaeum statues and villas.

“It was important to me that the music was whispered in the same landscape that Gianfranco has worked for the past three years, so that you can hear the volcanic air gulping, the lapping of the waves, the steam and bubbles popping against John and Seymour’s saxophone breaths – an echo from a suspended time.”
What emerges is deeply melancholic, tender, subtle and right at the edges of audio technology. Submerged in an aquarian mausoleum, the mysterious vibrations of the saxophone and its bell become an echo of an echo, wading from the future into the past. ‘Sotto le Nuvole’ is less a soundtrack than a process of aeration - a sonic puncture in the material of the film which allows its central message to breathe, and a remarkable experiment at the limits of the saxophone’s possibility.

Ąnis is a Lithuanian producer and DJ working in the space between broken rhythms and atmospheric weight. His tracks blur the line between club tools and introspective pieces - raw, textured, and unpolished in the best way.

Ąnis’ debut album “I Swear I’m Not Delusional” builds from late-night sketches into fully formed pressure systems. Ambient passages fall into break-driven grooves, each track shifting like a mood swing. It's rooted in tension, repetition, and space - think the grit and movement of early Skee Mask filtered through a more personal, less polished lens. Tracks like “Mountain People” carry warmth without needing to explain themselves, while others feel like they were made at 3am with no lights on. It’s not chasing a scene - just locked into its own pulse. This isn’t background music. It asks you to sit with it - or move to it. Either way, it sticks.

Credits
Original tracks written, produced, arranged and recorded by Jonas Zubavičius in Vilnius. Mastering by Pranas Gudaitis aka audiomastering.lt. Artwork and design by Povilas Baranauskis.

A dream come true for A Colourful Storm to be releasing an early gem by Tenniscoats, a duo whose DIY spirit, boundless creativity and lust for life and collaboration has left an indelible mark. From self-releasing albums and tapes on their own Majikick imprint to meeting kindred spirits The Pastels, Bill Wells and Jad Fair in between outings for Morr Music, Chapter and Häpna, to name but a few, Tenniscoats have embodied an understated determination and optimism for over two decades.

"A foghorn melodica, voice, fractions, fragments, nothing and everything all at once. We Are Everyone opens out slowly, a little eerily, magic tumbles into play in well-measured rations. Meanwhile, on the cover, Saya and Ueno's heads seem to merge into the sky as if living amongst the wisdom of the clouds. Or maybe somewhere between sleep and reality, like Ueno's description of Tenniscoats' music. We Are Everyone is one of those records where you almost feel engulfed in its making - you feel like you're in the room with Tenniscoats as they push themselves to the limit, trying to make the very best record they can." - Stephen Pastel

Another Day on Earth (2005) was Brian Eno’s first song-based album since Nerve Net in1992, and remains one of his most acclaimed solo records. It featured a young Jon Hopkins alongside long-standing collaborators Nell Catchpole, J. Peter Schwalm and Leo Abrahams, with lyrics co-written by Michel Faber and Danny Hillis. The album was launched with a public conversation between Eno and the writer Michael Bracewell at the Marble Palace in St Petersburg and its cover photograph was taken by Eno himself in Beijing, during his first Chinese audio installation in the city’s Ritan Park. Following Warner Bros’ purchase of Hannibal Records in 2006, the licence for Another Day on Earth lapsed in 2008 and the album has been unavailable outside Japan ever since.

“Grand, sweeping choruses ... that insinuate themselves deep into the memory, but also moments of whispering intimacy - a wistful, haunting record that runs warm with understated emotion. ★★★★★” - Matthew Collin, The Observer (2005)

Fontaines D.C. announce their fifth studio album, Dopamine Chamber, released on 16th October via XL Recordings. Produced by James Ford, it is the follow-up to 2024’s UK platinum-certified Romance – and the sound of a band moving decisively away from the guitar language of their early records into something colder, stranger and more synthetic. It arrives today alongside lead single “Marianne” and its accompanying video, directed by Dave Meyers.

Dopamine Chamber arrives like a constellation behind undulating sighs of smog: potent balladry, anthemic melodies glinting through the murk. In a world tipping towards collapse, it asks how pleasure mutates amid peril—and what our pursuit of it reveals about us. Across the album, Fontaines D.C. – Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll – move between gratification and dread until the two meld together, reflecting the overwhelm of artificial intelligence, environmental collapse and political violence all riding the same algorithms as memes, jokes and celebrity culture. “The album itself is a dopamine chamber,” says Chatten. “You step inside and we test these different mind- or mood-altering pieces of music on you.”

Where Romance held its tension in balance, this record tips it. “I think Romance was maybe 60 per cent human and 40 per cent corrupted by automation, and a loss of feeling,” says Chatten, who spent time among the faded grandeur of Venice, Vienna and Sicily in search of lyrical inspiration. “This one feels more like 60 per cent corrupted — the mask is wearing the face a little more.” He resisted any pull towards easy optimism: “I felt it would be more powerful to leave the hope out and reflect the ugliness honestly. This one needed to feel more like a catastrophic warning.”

“Our albums have always questioned a sense of place,” says bassist Conor Deegan. “First Dublin, then being away from Dublin, and then trying to find the romance elsewhere. On this record, the question became: where do you escape to?” Into the self, perhaps – or hedonism, fantasy, cosmetic perfection, eternal youth or the endless refresh of a screen.

Fontaines D.C. have spent five albums refusing to repeat themselves – from Dogrel (2019) through A Hero’s Death (2020), the No. 1 Skinty Fia (2022) and the anarchic, kaleidoscopic Romance (2024). Dopamine Chamber is their most radical turn yet: cold synthesiser tones, marching drums, samples and triggers, several songs with no guitars at all, and the swooning strings of 1960s Italian pop pulled into something synthetic. For guitarist Conor Curley, the aim was to break from the band’s own reference points: “I was trying to find stuff that pointed into the future.” It was made with James Ford between London, the English countryside and Palermo, where Chatten recorded vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions.

“There’s a poignant sense of us being on the brink of some other kind of form of humanity, or non-humanity,” says Chatten. For their fifth album, Fontaines D.C. have built the chamber. What happens to the listener inside it will be the experiment.

Fontaines D.C. announce their fifth studio album, Dopamine Chamber, released on 16th October via XL Recordings. Produced by James Ford, it is the follow-up to 2024’s UK platinum-certified Romance – and the sound of a band moving decisively away from the guitar language of their early records into something colder, stranger and more synthetic. It arrives today alongside lead single “Marianne” and its accompanying video, directed by Dave Meyers.

Dopamine Chamber arrives like a constellation behind undulating sighs of smog: potent balladry, anthemic melodies glinting through the murk. In a world tipping towards collapse, it asks how pleasure mutates amid peril—and what our pursuit of it reveals about us. Across the album, Fontaines D.C. – Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll – move between gratification and dread until the two meld together, reflecting the overwhelm of artificial intelligence, environmental collapse and political violence all riding the same algorithms as memes, jokes and celebrity culture. “The album itself is a dopamine chamber,” says Chatten. “You step inside and we test these different mind- or mood-altering pieces of music on you.”

Where Romance held its tension in balance, this record tips it. “I think Romance was maybe 60 per cent human and 40 per cent corrupted by automation, and a loss of feeling,” says Chatten, who spent time among the faded grandeur of Venice, Vienna and Sicily in search of lyrical inspiration. “This one feels more like 60 per cent corrupted — the mask is wearing the face a little more.” He resisted any pull towards easy optimism: “I felt it would be more powerful to leave the hope out and reflect the ugliness honestly. This one needed to feel more like a catastrophic warning.”

“Our albums have always questioned a sense of place,” says bassist Conor Deegan. “First Dublin, then being away from Dublin, and then trying to find the romance elsewhere. On this record, the question became: where do you escape to?” Into the self, perhaps – or hedonism, fantasy, cosmetic perfection, eternal youth or the endless refresh of a screen.

Fontaines D.C. have spent five albums refusing to repeat themselves – from Dogrel (2019) through A Hero’s Death (2020), the No. 1 Skinty Fia (2022) and the anarchic, kaleidoscopic Romance (2024). Dopamine Chamber is their most radical turn yet: cold synthesiser tones, marching drums, samples and triggers, several songs with no guitars at all, and the swooning strings of 1960s Italian pop pulled into something synthetic. For guitarist Conor Curley, the aim was to break from the band’s own reference points: “I was trying to find stuff that pointed into the future.” It was made with James Ford between London, the English countryside and Palermo, where Chatten recorded vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions.

“There’s a poignant sense of us being on the brink of some other kind of form of humanity, or non-humanity,” says Chatten. For their fifth album, Fontaines D.C. have built the chamber. What happens to the listener inside it will be the experiment.

Without turning anything upside down, the trio has released their second album, gracefully deepening the unique path they have carved out for themselves. It is an album that already stands in stark contrast to the attention-deficit culture of our times. Indeed, whilst music sometimes seeks to concentrate the intensity of its references and artefacts, the trio takes a step back, deploying an intensity that is subtly distributed. Thanks to their progressive instrumental tracks blending elements inherited from dub, jazz, folk and even musique concrète, the trio has never allowed the quality of their music to suffer from their experimentation; at the same time, they have never been afraid to venture off the beaten track to achieve the sound they desire. Every single track of this album cast like fragile bridges over various landscapes that explore cycles and the natural rhythm within. It is up to the listener to tread carefully and not lose their footing and embrace the cinematic movement of this music. The three artists have indeed achieved a musical expression so free that it possesses the power of illusion. We are suddenly swept up in all these illusions, to the point where our memories are in flux. Both haunting and in motion, this trio’s music offers an impregnable mental retreat and an invitation to dance. This album conveys a dreamlike conviction that time, in its relentless flight, might—if only for a moment—be brought to a halt. A halt that awaits you.

Words by Carl Åhnebrink

spirit blue have become one of London’s most elusive word-of-mouth successes. Formed in South East London, the duo quietly built a devoted following through years hosting NTS Radio’s flagship Early Bird show before stepping out from behind the booth with 2024’s breakout double single “perfect storm / desire machine”. Rare live appearances and instant sell-outs of their limited dubplate pressings have turned spirit blue into one of the capital’s most sought-after underground acts, with admirers ranging from Ethel Cain to EsDeeKid. The glistening guitars, soft-hued vocals and sparse production of “ps / dm” and its follow-up “language” conjure a collaged vision of 90s alt-rock melancholy refracted through lo-fi intimacy and electronic texture. The vocals remain understated yet emotionally direct, grounding each track in a vulnerability that feels unforced. Echoes of slowcore’s more spectral edges drift through the duo’s blurred songwriting, where moments of stillness carry as much weight as the hooks themselves. The first ultra-limited pressing sold out instantly; this new edition arrives including the vinyl-exclusive, weightless, “devil mix” versions on the B side and demand already running high.

V Don and Da$h are not strangers to each other. Connecting in the past for memorable tracks like “Glad Bag”, “Redrum”, and “Now or Never”. They picked right up where they left off with a menacing five track EP back in July. “5 Deadly Venoms” put V Don’s expert production and the many flows of Da$h on front street. A duo that has always held themselves to high standards.

This LP, the second set from Soul4Real based on songs mostly associated with Jackson, MS label Malaco, is another stunning showcase of the breadth of soul music. Featuring tracks ranging from the 70s through to the new millennium and from the deepest of blues-tinged ballads to disco beats, there is something on this LP for all soul enthusiasts to relish. The biggest name here is undoubtedly Bobby “Blue” Bland. A towering presence in both soul and blues for over 50 years, his influence – and sales – were immense. Other hitmakers are here as well, such as the prodigious vocal talent of Shirley Brown, whose massive “Woman To Woman” kick-started her long and successful career, and the delightful Dorothy Moore, whose immortal “Misty Blue” saved Malaco from bankruptcy in the mid-70s. Moore’s lovely duet with star Eddie Floyd was a one-off, as was Natural High’s Malaco subsidiary Chimneyville album. Always welcome on sets like this are lesser-known artists like sometime funk band Solid Gold Revue member Ray Crumley, who released a small handful of solo 45s,New Orleans singer Richard Caiton, who has had Northern soul plays, and mystery Mississippi native J.J. Lewis. Cult southern soul heroes such as the outstanding Tommy Tate – memorably described by Malaco boss Tommy Couch as “America’s best kept secret” – and the gifted and prolific down home songwriter George Jackson, whose BMI catalogue runs to over 400 songs, are prominent here. Jackson’s effort is previously unissued, and the more obscure item from Marvin Morrow is a first time on vinyl. Like Jackson, Morrow earnt his living as a writer for such luminaries as Gladys Knight and Chaka Khan. A treat for all connoisseurs. Malaco gave themselves the byline of “The Last Soul Record Company”, and listening to their output of over 50 years and the way they outlasted every other southern independent label, it’s impossible to disagree.

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

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.

Red w/black splatter vinyl "You're Weak And You Know You're Weak" is the seventh album from WEREWOLVES in seven years. The band themselves have sworn to release ten albums in ten years, or commit group suicide if they fail. Ridiculously brutal moronic caveman death metal from members of PSYCROPTIC, THE BERZERKER, ABRAMELIN, THE ANTICHRIST IMPERIUM, and THE AMENTA.

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.

V Don and Da$h are not strangers to each other. Connecting in the past for memorable tracks like “Glad Bag”, “Redrum”, and “Now or Never”. They picked right up where they left off with a menacing five track EP back in July. “5 Deadly Venoms” put V Don’s expert production and the many flows of Da$h on front street. A duo that has always held themselves to high standards.

The pairing of two fiddles is a familiar sound in many folk traditions, but it has been heard less frequently in English traditional music. Morning of May, a new album from Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, sets out to discover what happens when two fiddlers meet with this repertoire: taking turns carrying the melody, as the other takes a "seconding" role, weaving harmony and rhythm around the tune, elevating it and subtly reshaping the ground beneath it. Sweeney and Smith immersed themselves in a wide range of manuscripts and tune collections, delving into some of the more obscure sources. Within these archives, they found tunes that felt unexplored and rich with possibility. Some tunes arrived as complete hidden gems. Others required some restoration, their rough edges gently smoothed through the process of playing. Others were tiny fragments, inspiring almost total reimaginings. Alongside these old tunes sit a few original compositions by Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, written in the same spirit of curiosity and continuity that informs their approach to archive material.

The pairing of two fiddles is a familiar sound in many folk traditions, but it has been heard less frequently in English traditional music. Morning of May, a new album from Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, sets out to discover what happens when two fiddlers meet with this repertoire: taking turns carrying the melody, as the other takes a "seconding" role, weaving harmony and rhythm around the tune, elevating it and subtly reshaping the ground beneath it. Sweeney and Smith immersed themselves in a wide range of manuscripts and tune collections, delving into some of the more obscure sources. Within these archives, they found tunes that felt unexplored and rich with possibility. Some tunes arrived as complete hidden gems. Others required some restoration, their rough edges gently smoothed through the process of playing. Others were tiny fragments, inspiring almost total reimaginings. Alongside these old tunes sit a few original compositions by Sam Sweeney and Grace Smith, written in the same spirit of curiosity and continuity that informs their approach to archive material.

Confronting 2026, hope can seem in short supply, as the most divisive and toxic voices worldwide are amplified amidst an ever-rising temperature of conflict and alienation, yet hope is abundant in ‘Losey’, the latest release on Rocket Recordings from the mercurial duo Gnoomes. Just as this couple have taken a bold step into the unknown by leaving Russia and moving to Slovenia, so their music has thrown off all shackles to flourish in a defiant show of vibrant and revivifying colour. “The life of an immigrant is a strange thing.” says the bands Sasha Piankov “But luckily, that glow music brings us has never faded, even though the emotional landscape has definitely shifted.” Yet whilst the music that Sasha and his creative and life partner Masha Piankova came up with is testimony to a liberating triumph against oppression and adversity, it also goes beyond. What has emerged is a kaleidoscopic collision of styles which sends the ‘skygazing’ realm of their previous work spinning into electronic orbit. Whilst the opener ‘Foreign Agent’ explicitly tackles the pressures of the Russian state, it also throws a Stereolab-style motorik meditation through an in-the-red psychedelic prism. Elsewhere we can behold Bulgakov and Chris and Cosey as bedfellows amidst the mesmeric, 303-fried EBM of ‘Satan’s Ball’.
“Rave as therapy. Pop as resistance. Love as endurance. ADHD as a production technique.” These are the primary ingredients of Losey, by the reckoning of the band themselves. This is an album that exists purely on its own distinct frequency, driven by defiance and positivity. Losey is a soundtrack to set fire to the old order, the better to dance in the glow.

Liberation Front is a statement of pure intent from Sydney, Australia's TO THE GRAVE. Brutal and uncompromising in both sound and message, TO THE GRAVE create ugly music for uglier times. They rage against animal cruelty and environmental destruction, translating their death metal-infused deathcore into something unforgettable and utterly uncompromising. From the breakdown-laden assault of opener "MEAT THE HUMANS", Liberation Front is a suffocating return to form for the veganism-espousing quintet. While recent releases explored more hardcore-oriented territory, this album embraces deathcore at its most savage and relentless. Lead single "EYESTALK ABLATIONS" is a devastating statement, accompanied by a video every bit as violent and unforgettable as the music itself. Over the past 15 years, TO THE GRAVE have established themselves among the leading names of Australia's emerging deathcore scene, sharing stages with fellow Australians Thy Art Is Murder as well as international heavyweights including Lorna Shore. The band continues to tour extensively throughout Europe and North America, returning to the US and Canada in Fall 2026 alongside Crown Magnetar. Liberation Front is more than an album—it is a musical and lyrical call to arms, designed not only to rage against the machine but to educate, provoke and challenge listeners on every level.

For Don’t Panik 8 the duo find themselves in-between rappers and unwilling to take up the mic themselves they turn to the internet for vocal inspiration, tackling subjects from Artificial intelligence, Bassline noises and Synthesiser Science all firmly embedded into their signature Pumping Funky sound.

maya ongaku has always been searching for what exists just beyond the edge of perception. Since forming in the seaside towns surrounding Enoshima, the trio has followed a path guided less by intention than intuition, allowing songs, ideas, and experiences to emerge through a process they describe as 自然発生 (shizen hassei), spontaneous occurrence. Nothing Space Music is the deepest expression of that philosophy to date.

Written in the aftermath of several years of international touring, the album emerged from a growing desire to reconnect with silence. As stages became larger and the world around them moved faster, the band found themselves drawn toward the quieter spaces beneath it all. What began as a reflection on stillness & silence eventually expanded into the idea of "Nothing Space". To realise the album, maya ongaku created an entirely new environment for themselves. Near a seaside shrine in their hometown, the trio transformed a large soundproof building into Nothing Space Studio, a space built specifically around the needs of this record.

Nothing Space Music: a meditation on presence, perception, and the possibility of rediscovering the world through attentive listening.

The unconscious element to the conscious process.

The practice of dub techno and its tendrils is a fundamental for me, both aesthetically and from an engineering perspective.

I start every recording session with a dub inspired jam, the first piece I ever recorded in 1996 was an effort to recreate Phylyps Trak with only a Korg X3 and an Ibanez PUE5 (borrowed from Gary Howell). It was an awesome introduction to jamming, and the footing stones of noise, delay and saturation were explored with my foot hard on the enthusiasm pedal.

These practice jams are in some sense cathartic, the first step taken again & again, which helps me move forwards each session and additionally helps to 'warm the circuits' both of myself and the machines.

After realising the genius of Basic Channel is akin to the genius of peasant food, using every ingredient with nothing left to waste, (up to and including the oft maligned working noise of the machines themselves), this was a watershed moment for my own subjective progression. No longer tied to just emulation of something inspiring, but taking these learned tools into other areas of music helped to break free from a strong current of influence and also to progress into other areas with the new toolbox.

Dub:

The importance of the dub pioneers should never be understated, in modern music and my own practice. Yet with my initial inspiration being two german dudes issuing extreme techno variants with obscured label designs, who then signposted their listeners to their own inspirations (via their Wackies re-issues or nodded to on their Rhythm & Sound/Burial Mix sub-labels), meant that I started late and travelled backwards.

Learning to notice the live mixing of Mikey Dread or Lee Perry when the faders are bleeding through even when turned down, (echoed in BC's Quadrant Dub), or the brash send effects literally thrown into the mix also taught me that 'rough' mixing can inject a recording with life, uniqueness and the most right wrongness. Looking back Basic Channels very few elements helped me realise that the rules to be understood, are also the best ones to be broken.

Push the mixer into the red.

Amp that noise up from the tape delay cos it sounds sick.

Pseudo side-chain effects cos the kicks are way too loud and the mixer can't sum it nicely.

Spam the send knob into the delay units now, now and now.

Carelessness.

Noise:

Once I wrapped my head around the intrinsic 'noise' element that set those records apart, this became a torchlight into the alt noise movements which I was tentatively exploring at the time, and also is evidently a connection or thread into them.

Whether the Industrial/Post Punk UK scene (This Heat, TG, A Tent, F.E.) or the prolific output of the US Noise scene (Wolf Eyes, Live & Shave in LA, and subsequently following the lineage all the way back to Chrome's Alien Soundtracks), I had finally discovered a connection from techno to this 'free for all' corner of music.

This input from the Noise arena of sound is, in my experience, an all important step for a sonic artist, taking it's roots and extending out from Stockhausen/Pierre Henry and utilised/warped/mangled by thousands of adventurous pioneers ever since, I now see the line separating the high brow and the low brow is actually an artery carrying information from the head to the heart.

Vault is a selection of these jams that precede each of my solo recording sessions, for 30 years I've recorded hundreds of these 'workouts'. They are never intended as serious statements, just moments of naive enjoyment, yet most importantly they are time & space captured as practice.

The objective is always a warm up exercise, but sometimes those exercises turn a different corner, with a certain focus or direction dependent on what random samples are left in my machines from the previous session, instead of conscious choices, these unconscious elements can facilitate those 'positive mistakes' that make a piece of sound retain a different feel or colour and thus become special, or at least special to the creator.

I am quite conscious that the 'record everything' aspect of my ethos has been invaluable in cataloguing and saving these jams, while the attitude of carelessness during this process (after all, it's only a warm up jam) invites more enjoyment than seriousness ever could. Even if you don't feel the piece at the time, record it, because some years later it may well fit, or become relevant in a way you never intended.

-Miles

Ethos Records returns with it’s 4th release. Chicago legend Specter delivers a deeply immersive EP, while maintaining his signature sound. 4 tracks that reveal themselves gradually creating a hypnotic flow from the beginning to end. The release will be a limited pressing with each record featuring a hand-stamped number on the label.

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)