Cerca:themselves

For their second full-length album, Under My Umbrella, Miss Grit has lifted the lid on their internal world, lasering in on the anxieties and heartbreak of the past two years, following their acclaimed debut Follow the Cyborg.

On this album, Margaret Sohn – aka Miss Grit (they/she) – channels the noirish atmosphere of classic trip-hop bands, while adding a hefty dose of maximalism and a dream-pop sensibility. The title is a nod to the iconic Rihanna song and embraces Sohn “…letting people in more on this record and trying not to shy away from that. I’m leaving the cyborg behind, I’m letting it all out.”

This record started to take shape when Sohn returned from an intense touring schedule where they’d driven themself around North America totally alone. When they returned home, Sohn found themselves yearning to capture that specific, less restrained energy of playing live.

Under My Umbrella not only presents Sohn’s gift for complex production, but also the boldness of finding your voice, and ultimately is about coming to terms with yourself, your imperfections, and your complex interior world.

Fifteen years after their first album "Time for a Change", and drawing on the experience of two others ("Elephanz" 2017, and "Rien de personnel" 2023), ELEPHANZ now returns with a fourth album that carries the scent of first loves, the kind you sing from the heart with your hands gripping a guitar.

"Love. Hurt. Repeat." tells, across ten songs, the story of a return to oneself, like coming home after years spent roaming the world, only to realize that everything you needed to understand yourself was already there at the starting line.

To help you understand what this new album makes me feel, I'd like to tell you about my first meeting with Jon and Max in 2009, when I became the band's bassist. Sixteen years ago, I discovered these two young men and set off in their family Kangoo van on my very first tour.

Through our early rehearsals around the piano of their childhood, I discovered their love for pop music in all its breadth, always in search of harmonies and melodies that touch the heart in the simplest way and gently ease your sorrows along the way. With them, I learned to appreciate the mainstream hits I had previously dismissed on principle, and I discovered the demanding art of melody as I listened to them sing about love and friendship through unforgettable catchphrases.

Listening today to some of the songs from their new album, I think back to those two young men with a big-city rock look, shut away in the living room of their family home, talking only about leaving that dull countryside behind to live the big life in the capital (Streets of Rage). What I once took for a kind of revenge against the hostile environment of their adolescence was in fact an almost vital need to find their place among others, to feel understood in order to feel at ease in their own skin.

Today, I find them again with the same guitar and the same inexpensive Juno as back then, but with the confidence shaped by years of concerts, writing, studio encounters, and all kinds of experimentation. The music of this fourth album has never been so close to that of their earliest days, but their voices have been set free. They no longer sing about who they dreamed of becoming, but about who they have always been, their most distant concerns, sometimes even their darkest ones, yet always in search of the light.

It is as if ELEPHANZ had to travel all the way around the world to come face to face with themselves again. There is no longer any shame in being who you are, and it is even the best way to understand yourself, to exist and to heal. To heal from grief and heartbreak, to understand the child you once were and the one who carried them (Mother), to forgive yourself and finally learn to love yourself.

That is what makes this record as sensitive as it is powerful and strikingly truthful. It was written and recorded like a cry, live, in just a few weeks, using the instruments of their beginnings: sharp bass and drums, powerful guitars, and synthesizers that are at times soaring, at times carriers of liberating melodies. The art of ballads remains, as does that of universal pop songs.

There is a beautiful urgency here, the urgency of finding oneself again in order to understand oneself through both pain and beauty, and "Love. Hurt. Repeat." is its most perfect expression.

Joe Fujinoki centered the compositions of his latest album Glass Torso round the idea of the fragility of the human body. Fujinoki described the narrative thread of the album as that of “holding the shape of a human body as if it might shatter like glass”. The precariousness of the body, the essence of the body as defined by Fujinoki as the torso, and the object relations between the boundaries of dialectical exercises pack themselves into his creative process.

Fujinoki recorded Glass Torso exclusively with analog synthesizers, stumbling in and out of structural loops to find space for accidental discoveries. The ten pieces of recorded material feel somewhere on the edge of typified form, feeling like a vascular system pumping in and out its undulating liquidities. Maybe this is the hollowed space held together by Fujinoki’s notion of the torso where you hear a microscopic world, dubby and generative. Fujinoki is adept at organizing this realm of subtle sound sources, giving proper considerations of shared tonal space. Seemingly, this handling of the precarity of sonic material elucidates Fujinoki’s mature attention to detail.

Ambient music genre tropes often affirm the listeners vessel for escape and dissociation. It provides an intoxicating allure by respite from an overwhelming exterior reality far outside the listeners controls. Here this space becomes apolitical, or its protest vocabulary softer and subtle. Fujinoki does not aim to tackle hyperobject topics on how to course correct the world, but he does something increasingly rarer to come across. On Glass Torso an alternative space is created not as shelter, but as a meditation on negotiation and compromise. This twenty eight minutes of audio lays down a foundation for imagination, for imagining how to negotiate the fragility of the self. Zoomed out, the implications of his negotiative sonics can be a playground for broader reflections on distributive care and attention.

Fujinoki says he feels “alert” to his physicality and placement in the world amidst vast digital cultures creating impositions on him and his surroundings. On Glass Torso he creates a concretized space on a vinyl record, where the virtual and the tangible antagonize one another that create the spectacle of the listening experience. This spectacle is a soft one, a considered one, and an utmost enjoyable one. Fujinoki juggles opposing forces brilliantly, and formulates an exquisite palette of soft passing music so he can also help the listener with the exquisite burden of their own Glass Torso.”

- Nick Klein, January 2026

Ayô Dele — which means "joy comes to me" in Yoruba — is neither a slogan nor a promised miracle. It is a breath of fresh air. That of an album born in the interstices, where the word find their way between shadow and light, between the disorder of the worldand the impulse to be .
At the heart of the project, Julien Gervaix and Damien Tesson, multi-instrumentalist beatmakers, share a groove language that is both dense and airy, where every detail breathes and finds its place.
With background in Afrobeat, Dub, Funk, Soul, Roots Reggae, and Electronic Music, they treat the studio to be their playground. Their music is a hybrid groove that speaks to the body: round or bouncing basslines, brass oscillating between melodic warmth and funk energy, textured guitars, arpeggios, enveloping Rhodes, clavinet that slides, presses, and embraces. Everything comes together with precision and flexibility, in an inventive and warm composition. The meeting of their experiences and sensibilities gives rise to open, generous music, made for dancing and vibration.
With Ayô Dele , Ireke is embarking on a new chapter: the duo is refining its style,allowing the voices to breathe. The groove remains the driving force but opens up to intimacy. This intimacy is carried by two unique female voices: Nayel Hoxo, a Beninese-Nigerian singer/rapper, and Agnès Hélène, who has already made a name for herself on Tropikadelic with "Petit a Petit". They don't sing side-by-side; they coexist, respond to each other, and sometimes intersect. But each follows her own path: Nayel, with the power of her words in Yoruba, offers songs of elevation, healing, and resistance — a light born in the cracks Agnès explores these cracks themselves: what wavers within us, what reinvents itself in bonds, glances, and gestures.
For one track, Olivya (Dowdelin) joins this dialogue in Martinican Creole. Her sunny soul sketches the contours of gentle resistance and celebrates rediscovered light.
Ayô Dele embodies a quiet yet radical determination: to smooth nothing over, to let plurality, contradictory emotions, and mixed heritage live. An album that moves forward through vibrations, that speaks of emancipation without slogans, love without clichés, anger without uproar.
Two women, two inner worlds: a sensitive complicity, a shared breath. Music that seeks not effect, but echo, weaving a living soundscape between reinvented traditions and contemporary textures. An alchemy faithful to the spirit of Underdog Records, where music unites and brings people together. Ayô Dele : "joy comes to me." A lucid joy, crossed by shadows, patiently regained. Music that welcomes, releases, gives, and in doing so, makes us feel good.
In a saturated world, Ayô Dele chooses nuance: transmission without emphasis, joy without naivety. An album that vibrates more than it demonstrates, that connects more than it imposes, and which, in its quiet clarity, resonates with a deep desire to be fully alive.

Having established themselves as one of the leading live bands in Europe, grooving to improvised jazz motifs and hip-hop beats, Budapest trio Jazzbois return with their fourth LP, Still Blunted, which sees them touch base with their beat-tape roots.

Now situated in the heart of Buda at their new studio above a club, the Hungarian trio of Bencze Molnár (Rhodes/synth), Viktor Sági (bass) and Tamás Czirják (drums) take a more considered approach to Still Blunted and offer a snapshot into the jams, sessions, and shows they have played over the past year. Still Blunted was released after the band performed at the legendary Montreux Jazz Festival in 2024 summer, but before they sold out The Jazz Cafe, London, and three more venues (Paris, Antwerp, Utrecht) on their album release tour in October 2024.

Faitiche welcomes a new artist: Christina Kubisch belongs to the first generation of sound artists. Her practice ranges from performances, concerts, to works with video and visual art, but she is best known for her sound installations and electro-acoustic compositions.

TUNING brings together three pieces by Christina Kubisch from different periods of her oeuvre. What they have in common is the way they transform sound phenomena originally considered “non-music” into compositions.

Jan Jelinek: Gaming in Silence (2024) is the most recent work on this compilation. It’s a collage of electromagnetic waves, voice, and abstract sound textures. How did this combination come about?

Christina Kubisch: Gaming was commissioned as a fixed-media composition for the Sound Dome at ZKM Karlsruhe. Since Resonances: The Electromagnetic Bodies Project (2005), I’ve been making recordings in the old and new server rooms at the ZKM and in their permanent collection of historical computer games. Computer games like Asteroids (Atari, 1979) and Poly-Play (VEB Polytechnik, 1986) have specially generated analogue electromagnetic waves that interest me in particular on account of their density, rhythms and textures. I originally studied painting and to me the work of composition often feels like painting an abstract picture. I alter my source material as little as possible, layering and overlapping until a distinctive sound space emerges. In recent pieces, I sometimes combine magnetic waves with field recordings or live instruments. In Gaming it’s my recording of a Chinese song about silence.

JJ: Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004) is a recording from your Electrical Walks series. Here we should give a brief explanation of one of your best known works: participants in an Electrical Walk move through public spaces wearing prepared headphones that allow them to receive electromagnetic waves from their surroundings – for example from security gates, ATMs or neon signs. They discover a situation that normally is inaudible to the human ear and they can actively shape it by choreographing their movements. I really admire this piece, not least because there’s no clear dividing line between participants and artist. What exactly do we hear in Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004)?

CK: With this early work, I wanted to understand what is heard by people participating in an Electrical Walk in the same place but moving in different ways. The Spanish composer Miguel Alvarez-Fernàndez and I set off from opposite ends of a major shopping street in Madrid, met briefly in the middle, and then continued to the end. We both recorded our walks and I then layered them over one another. You might call it a work of electromagnetic conceptualism.

JJ: Diapason (2009 version) is an installation that plays a composition based on sounds from fifteen tuning forks. This setting is audible in the recording: there’s no dramatic arc, no beginning or end – instead, it recalls a piece of aleatoric music focussing on the decay phase. How did you come to make this work and could you tell us something about your compositional method?

CK: Diapason is part of a series of three pieces that deal with “non-instruments” or instruments that no longer exist: electrical mine bells used to send signals to the workers underground; a historical glass harmonica originally used for medicinal purposes; and tuning forks that were used by doctors to test people’s hearing. All of these methods are no longer in use. The sound of the tuning forks, audible only if held close to the ear, was recorded at the electronic studio at Berlin’s Technical University in such a way that even their decay remained audible. The frequencies range between 64 and 2048 Hertz and they can be adjusted at micro-intervals using small movable weights. The sequence and the duration of the pauses are dictated by chance and were not defined in advance. The 2009 version was created for an installation in the historic Holy Cross Church (Korskirken) in Bergen. Visitors could enter and leave the space at any time, deciding for themselves where and for how long they wished to listen to the sounds played back over an array of small loudspeakers placed on the floor of the apse.

Credits:

Gaming in Silence: commission of the ZKM/Hertzlab, Karlsruhe 2023
elektronic sound processing: Tom Thiel
sound engineering and mixing: Eckehard Güther

Diapason: produced at Elektronisches Studio of TU Berlin
rearrangement: Eckehard Güther

Christina Kubisch, published by Edition Christina Kubisch / Random Musick Publishing

image front: Transitionen 2021 by C. Kubisch, sonagrams of electronic waves (courtesy: Galerie Mazzoli Berlin)
image back: Diapason Tuning Fork, property of Folkmar Hein, Photo: Archiv Christina Kubisch

design by Tim Tetzner
mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi
Thanks to Miguel Álvarez-Fernández, Folkmar Hein, Dominik Kautz and Mario Mazzoli

A guitar stands alone in Wedding, that metropolitan biotope in the western center of Berlin, caught in constant transformation between idyll and abyss. It lets its gaze wander, unsettled, almost shy, until it encounters a trumpet, with which it begins a cautious, then ever more intimate pas de deux.
Welcome to the second studio album by the Berlin-based band Conic Rose.
The album title Wedding is no coincidence. The story of Conic Rose is closely intertwined with the Berlin neighborhood that gives the record its name. The band's studio is located here, and both studio albums were created in the immediate vicinity of the small river Panke. This place settles over the music like a warming patina. The album feels as though the musicians and the neighborhood have invited one another to get to know each other. Not least because Wedding also means marriage. These marriages between a band and an urban landscape, a fading past and an emerging future, fear and hope - unfold in every single song on Wedding.
For their second album, Conic Rose repositioned themselves completely. Not in terms of personnel, but in the question of how to move forward. Conic Rose still sound like Conic Rose; their distinctive blend of cinematic jazz, ambient textures and guitar-led contemporary music remains untouched. And yet Wedding is, in many ways, the conceptual counterpart to their debut album Heller Tag. Where the debut documented movement within an urban setting, Wedding describes a state of being. Behind every piece seems to hover a large question mark.The group opens up its palette, allowing more influences, becoming at once more subtle, more profound, more filigree. It is less about definition than about the spaces in between. The most immediately striking difference from the previous album is the strong presence of the guitar. In Bertram Burkert's playing, many voices seem to converge. His yearning openness forms an equal counterpoint to Döben's trumpet and flugelhorn. Blurred and layered sounds occasionally make the ground seem to slip away beneath one's feet, while Döben's gliding lines create both closeness and distance. Together, the band express in a deeply subtle way a sense of life that corresponds precisely to our time. Something lurks in the background, omnipresent yet still unnameable. Conic Rose need no words to convey this feeling of uncertainty with remarkable eloquence. Perhaps this has something to do with Wedding being a place of confrontational introspection, but Conic Rose confront the escape from escape itself. With the recording and release of Wedding, this process is far from complete. The seed only begins to grow in the listener's ear. With every listen and the echo it leaves behind in memory, the studio bud continues to bloom. The album is merely the point of departure. What ultimately matters is what it sets in motion within those who encounter it.

Uncompromising Dutch Black Metal – DOODSWENS’ sophomore album out in April via Svart Records Doodswens is a Dutch Black Metal band formed in 2017 by I. Live she performs the drums and vocals, joined by R. & P. on bass and guitar. Doodswens translates to Deathwish, but the meaning and heavy load to the word in Dutch translates better to Driven by Death. The self-titled sophomore album by Doodswens is out on April 17th 2026.

After establishing themselves in the Dutch scene, Doodswens gained an international following doing tours with Marduk & Gorgoroth. Doodswens’ performances are ceremonial and ritualistic, which have been reported to be as uplifting as they are devastating, depending on the demons you bring them to offer. Whatever you carry with you will be exposed. They like to confront instead of bringing comfort. If you've been on the verge of ending your life, or think about it more often than not, then you're living with a death wish. A heavy feeling, like a gray cloud hovering around you, gasping for breath and blurring your vision. This is incomprehensible to anyone. Except for those caught in the middle of it. But this album isn't about giving up. It's about finding strength, about someone who regains new energy after facing death.

This album isn't about wishing for death, but the death of the wish. Band’s establisher I. talks about the new single "Driven by Death": “For me, it was on the way back from a spontaneous adventure, full of music, new connections, and inspiration. A path without a plan and a journey without a goal, with only a very strong feeling that this is where I'm meant to be. With a misty horizon of endless asphalt before me. A large tree at the edge of the road, in the corner of my eye, screaming that this could just be the end. But what I felt wasn't fear, it was happiness. With the thought that if I crash into that tree now, I won't care at all. Because up until this moment, I've done everything possible, experienced every adventure, and each time, gotten up again and faced life with that gray cloud around my head. I have a death wish, so if it happens now, it's okay, and I'm at peace with it. This was the moment I realized, I'm not afraid of life. I'm driven by death.”

Uncompromising Dutch Black Metal – DOODSWENS’ sophomore album out in April via Svart Records Doodswens is a Dutch Black Metal band formed in 2017 by I. Live she performs the drums and vocals, joined by R. & P. on bass and guitar. Doodswens translates to Deathwish, but the meaning and heavy load to the word in Dutch translates better to Driven by Death. The self-titled sophomore album by Doodswens is out on April 17th 2026.

After establishing themselves in the Dutch scene, Doodswens gained an international following doing tours with Marduk & Gorgoroth. Doodswens’ performances are ceremonial and ritualistic, which have been reported to be as uplifting as they are devastating, depending on the demons you bring them to offer. Whatever you carry with you will be exposed. They like to confront instead of bringing comfort. If you've been on the verge of ending your life, or think about it more often than not, then you're living with a death wish. A heavy feeling, like a gray cloud hovering around you, gasping for breath and blurring your vision. This is incomprehensible to anyone.

Except for those caught in the middle of it. But this album isn't about giving up. It's about finding strength, about someone who regains new energy after facing death. This album isn't about wishing for death, but the death of the wish. Band’s establisher I. talks about the new single "Driven by Death": “For me, it was on the way back from a spontaneous adventure, full of music, new connections, and inspiration. A path without a plan and a journey without a goal, with only a very strong feeling that this is where I'm meant to be. With a misty horizon of endless asphalt before me. A large tree at the edge of the road, in the corner of my eye, screaming that this could just be the end. But what I felt wasn't fear, it was happiness. With the thought that if I crash into that tree now, I won't care at all. Because up until this moment, I've done everything possible, experienced every adventure, and each time, gotten up again and faced life with that gray cloud around my head. I have a death wish, so if it happens now, it's okay, and I'm at peace with it. This was the moment I realized, I'm not afraid of life. I'm driven by death.”

Since their ground-breaking US debut the Amigos have lived a double life. In their hometown of Caracas, Venezuela, they"ve hosted underground club nights for years (the most recent called "Super Sancocho Variety"). Then, insouciant single-entendre songs like "Sexy" and the doggy-style anthem "Ponerte En Cuatro" landed them on MTV and radio, and before long, the six young men found themselves pop idols. It wasn"t hard, but their hearts remain on the dance floor and in the clubs. AREPA 3000 is live instruments, start to finish. "Electronic music tries to simulate human sounds," says the guitarist. "It"s really easy to buy a groove box or an 808 to make us sound like techno. So we try to get those sounds from our instruments, to go the other way. Make the human sounds sound electronic. When we do our club shows, I"ll spin before our set and we"ll add live instrumentation. We can play four, five hours like that.

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Bristol experimental band SUGAR HORSE are delighted to announce that their third album, Not A Sound In Heaven, will be released on 10th April 2026 via Fat Dracula Records.

To celebrate the news, the band are sharing the bruising lead single ‘Secret Speech’, available to stream on all good digital service providers from 12th February 2026.

Also announced today are a run of April 2026 UK album headline tour dates and an appearance at StrangeForms Festival 2026, with tickets on sale now (see below for full listings).

“We are fortunate enough to live in what is generally known as ‘The West’,” says front man Ash Tubb of the lyrical themes behind the new track. “I say fortunate with gritted teeth, because I know—as I’m sure the reader knows—that living in the West isn’t always rosy. The vast majority of people struggle everyday to feed, clothe and house themselves. Let alone receive adequate healthcare, schooling and workers’ rights.”

“We are, however, where all the world’s wealth is hoarded. We are at the centre of Empire. The people outside of this empire—those of the Global South—have had their resources extracted and their populations exploited by our own governments, with very little given back in return. This won’t go on forever. It will inevitably end, as all great empires do.”

“We in The West have a choice to make in the meantime; either help create a new, fairer world, or let the greed of our ruling classes become the undoing of all of us.”

The first glimpse of new material from the quartet, ‘Secret Speech’ starts as Not A Sound In Heaven means to go on—a politically-charged wrecking ball of a song that smashes its way through the often unbelievable chaos and brutality of the 21st century with vitriolic malice.

How do you capture the machinations of the geo-political industrial war machine—and all the horrors that go with it—in the studio, without seeming trite or crass? That’s the question that Sugar Horse have posed themselves on their forthcoming third album Not A Sound In Heaven, and they must surely be one of the only bands in existence capable of delivering on just that premise with both musical substance and cutting philosophical insight.

“Ever since I was born I can remember visions of war, famine, and death being beamed directly into my living room via the magic of television,” says Tubb of the record. “These visions were accompanied by newsreader narratives designed to either humanise or dehumanise the people involved. We humanise our government’s allies and dehumanise their enemies. This is taken as common sense, or even wisdom to some degree. People watch the news and accept it as fact, simple and true.”

“As a person gets older they move in one of three different directions with this acceptance of reality; They embrace what they’re being told, they fall into a kind of trust free nihilism or they learn that there are deeper narratives at play.”

“Not A Sound In Heaven is an aged acceptance of the latter. An acceptance of sitting at the centre of a global empire of both military and economic dimensions. An acceptance that the stories we’re told as a nation, or what’s generally in the zeitgeist, isn’t necessarily reality itself.”

“How does a person cope with the weight—and, frankly, the guilt—of a society that perpetuates such distinct inequalities? A society that thinks a bit of killing abroad is fine, as long as it improves the lives of people at home. You can see why so many choose to embrace it. Hell, nihilism seems pretty sensible. Once a person decides upon pursuing a degree of truth however, things get a bit depressing. Beyond depressing...maddening.”

“This album explores this kind of breezy, frivolous subject matter in a manner that will no doubt be uplifting to the listener and massively financially rewarding for the artist.”

The new album follows on from their standalone AA single ‘What’s Your ETA? Let’s Have A Tear Up’/‘Would You Like Me To Be The Cat?’ which was released late last year as a surprise double drop.

The sibling duo behind the music on Graceful Degradation — organ and drums, nothing more, nothing less — carve out a sound that feels unmistakably organic in a world drifting steadily toward the synthetic. Their interplay is entirely live, subtle in its details yet dynamic in its momentum, built on the kind of instinctive communication only brothers can share.
The music is fully instrumental, unfolding in a borderland where dreamy retro pop dissolves into the hazy textures of shoegaze and the unruly pulse of noisy, electronic leaning jazz. It’s a sonic world that feels both familiar and elusive, nostalgic yet inherently restless. Melodies shimmer and blur, rhythms swell and contract, and the space between the notes becomes as expressive as the notes themselves.
What emerges is a sound that resists easy categorization: warm but unpredictable, intimate yet expansive, grounded in the physicality of two musicians performing in real time. The organ breathes like a living organism, shifting from soft focus ambience to swirling, saturated harmonics, while the drums move with a fluid, human elasticity — sometimes whisper quiet, sometimes erupting with raw, kinetic force.
In this in between terrain, the duo has always found its identity and its freedom. Their music doesn’t chase perfection; it chases presence. It embraces imperfection, celebrates spontaneity, and insists on staying alive in a landscape where so much is becoming weightless and automated.
This is instrumental music with a pulse: subtle, dynamic, and unmistakably human.

Born into a musical family Al Manfredi started writing songs when he was child. As a teenager in 1965, he formed the Nuts & Bolts in the small beach town of San Clemente, California. Inspired by the Kinks, the Beatles and the Byrds, the group separated themselves from the pack by also performing original material written by Manfredi and band mate Mike Ingram. In late 1966 they changed their name to the Lost & Found and relocated to Phoenix, Arizona, where they cut a rare single, “Don’t Move Girl” b/w “To Catch the Sun,” which now commands high coin from ‘60s garage collectors. When they returned to San Clemente in early 1967 their music had taken a more psychedelic direction. The Lost & Found were riding high that year, until tragedy struck. Ingram was found hanged under suspicious circumstances and soon after Lost & Found drummer Mike Ryer died of cancer at the age of 19. Heartbroken, Manfredi gave up on the band scene completely and moved to Garden Grove to teach at his family’s music store. But alone, behind closed doors, he kept writing songs and working on his music, recording hours of tapes, often tracking all the instruments himself. In 1973 he chose six of his best songs, some of them written back in the Lost & Found days, and had them custom-pressed as an LP. Only a handful of copies were pressed, and most of these were sent out to various record companies in the hope of landing a deal. Despite the outstanding quality of the music, there were no takers. But decades later, collectors discovered the Al Manfredi album and hailed it a West Coast rock masterpiece. In his Acid Archives book, Patrick Lundborg called its discovery a deus ex machina and compared it to David Crosby’s first solo album and Hawaii-era Merrell Fankhauser, “not just the acutely captured mellowness, but the self-confidence and the talent.”This little-known West Coast rock masterpiece was rediscovered and celebrated by Acid Archives founder Patrick Lundborg and others around the time that Manfredi died in 1995. This version of the album, overseen by Manfredi’s son Exile, and with Manfredi’s story told by Ugly Things’ founder Mike Stax, presents the complete package of an incredible lost and found artist. Contains the album, as originally issued, on side A with unreleased music on side B.

Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source. Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges.

As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves. The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.

Some years ago, Kjell Bjørgeengen and Keith Rowe attempted to convert video signals into sound by setting up Rowe’s pickups next to an old CRT monitor, turning its magnetic field into a sound generator. Rowe further developed the system with David Jones at Alfred University, slimming down the setup using a copper coil, a circuit board, a video input, and a telephone pickup. Jones named it the »Flood Coil«, and it’s that instrument you can see on the album’s front cover and that lies at the core of these recordings, made without any physical live input from the artists themselves. In essence, it’s generative music in its purest form.

Bjørgeengen’s video feed is generated by oscillators, then routed into Marhaug’s pedals and then back into the Flood Coil, so any visual shifts alter the sound, and any modification to the sound changes the video. The duo have played this setup live many times, but for this studio version they left the system to do its thing without any intervention for two minutes at a time before moving onto the next idea. They recorded hours and hours using this process and then selected 18 highlights for this album, extracting harsh noise, power electronics, lulling feedback drone, and peculiar rhythmic snippets to show the scope of their technique.

A wall of growling, hi-octane Pulse Demon-style noise opens the set, gradually exposing us to more asymmetric textures, shifting through unstable repetitions that transform Merzbow’s metal-inspired screams into »Aaltopiiri«-era rhythmic noise. It’s remarkable, actually, how much Marhaug and Bjørgeengen can squeeze from the system, chancing on shivering, lower-case chugs and pops, galloping drums, soundsystem subs, and grinding blast beats that sound like Napalm Death’s »Scum« piped through a broken amp stack. It ain’t pretty, but noise/industrial freaks will revel in the fierce delights inside.

DOODSESKADER clearly haven’t had enough of redefining boundaries – they’ve only just gotten started. Tim De Gieter and Sigfried Burroughs return on April 3rd, 2026 with their third full-length album, The Change Is Me, a rollercoaster that can only be described as the unstable lovechild between witch house, hip-hop, industrial dream pop, and stadium rock that can’t decide if it wants to watch the world burn or shout from the rooftops that we need to save it. Their combination of grungy 90s melodies with distorted synths, sludgy bass, hard tuned vocals, rapping, singing, and explosions of undiluted rage at the current state of the world leave you wondering just exactly what it was you smoked last night, and if it was too much or not enough. The Change Is Me is an album that grabs you by the arm and asks if you’re ready to go on a grand adventure, then pulls you into its chaos before you can say “yes” or “no.”

Tim and Sigfried aren’t just breaking the boundaries between genres; they’re breaking out of their own Year cycle, a path they had laid out for themselves at the band’s inception in 2020. Up until now, the duo had set out to document their “journey to getting better” through writing one album each year: Year Zero (2020), Year One (2022), and most recently Year Two (2024). After spending eight months throughout 2024 and 2025 writing, recording, producing and mixing Year Three, the band scrapped the finished record entirely. Playing shows while simultaneously navigating the process of mixing Year Three created a sort of disconnect – the people that they were when they wrote that record and the people that playing shows made them become were no longer one and the same. “We’re people with faults and strengths, and we realized we needed to accept it. That’s equal parts bleak and liberating. If you’re so focused on self-improvement, you can’t even applaud yourself for how far you’ve come,” the band explains. “This project is meant to be a document of us and of the human condition, not a self-improvement handbook designed to keep us all stuck on what may or may not have happened to us or because of us in the past.”

DOODSESKADER chose instead to embark anew on a week-long creative journey in Tim’s own Much Luv Studio with one goal in mind: to make an album that captures who they are right now. Finally writing everything together in the same room for the first time in years, the process of bringing "The Change Is Me" to life was captured by Diana Lungu in their latest documentary, "Now I Know You See Me", out December 2nd, 2025.

"The Change Is Me" marks the beginning of DOODSESKADER’s shift into a more positive era, both musically and conceptually. Over the course of the 40-minute record we hear the two friends unite in a fight against a world that grows more and more disappointing, a concept made crystal clear in tracks like “Celebrity Culture Simp Farm,” “It Keeps On Stinging,” and of course the album’s epic closer “Suffering In Technicolor.” While their previous albums saw them trying to outrun their pasts and arrive at a better version of themselves, here the search for some external or internal revelation that will “make them better” is no more. It’s been replaced by the realization that change isn’t something we force: it’s gradual, and more importantly, it’s something that’s already there – we just need to reach out and accept it.

The band’s live appearances over the last several years have been instrumental in shaping their ideology. On stage is where the duo find connection; not only with the audience, but also with each other. Their sold-out release shows at Ancienne Belgique (2022) and VierNulVier (2024) have proven that they are one of Belgium’s must-see acts. Abroad, their energy has translated into a month-long EU/UK tour with French band Alcest in 2024, as well as appearances at festivals such as Roadburn Festival (NL), Eurosonic (NL), Hellfest (FR), Mystic Fest (PL), Jera On Air (NL), ArcTanGent (UK), Fluff Fest (CZ) and more.

"The Change Is Me" is out April 3rd, 2026 on DOODSESKADER’s own label, 45 Records.

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On The Beths’ album Expert In A Dying Field, Elizabeth Stokes’ songwriting positions her somewhere between being a novelist and a documentarian. The songs collected here are autobiographical, but they’re also character sketches of relationships – platonic, familial, romantic – and more importantly, their aftermaths. The shapes and ghosts left in absences. The question that hangs in the air: what do you do with how intimately versed you’ve become in a person, once they’re gone from your life?

The third LP from the New Zealand quartet houses 12 jewels of tight, guitar-heavy songs that worm their way into your head, an incandescent collision of power-pop and skuzz. With Expert, The Beths wanted to make an album meant to be experienced live, for both the listeners and themselves. They wanted it to be fun -- to hear, to play -- in spite of the prickling anxiety throughout the lyrics, the fear of change and struggle to cope.

Most of Expert was recorded at guitarist Jonathan Pearce’s studio on Karangahape Road in Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (Auckland, New Zealand) -- and sometimes in the building's cavernous stairwell at 1am -- toward the end of 2021, until they were interrupted by a four-month national lockdown. They traded notes remotely for months, songwriting from afar and fleshing out the arrangements alone, the first time they’d written together in such a way. The following February, The Beths left the country for the first time in more than two years to tour across the US, and simultaneously finish mixing the album on the road. That latter half felt more collaborative, with everyone on-hand to trade notes in real time, until it all culminated in a chaotic three-day studio mad-dash in Los Angeles. There, Expert finally became the record they were hearing in their heads.

Expert is an extension of the same skuzzy palette the band has built across their catalog, pop hooks embedded in incisive indie rock. The album’s title track “Expert In A Dying Field” introduces the thesis for the record: “How does it feel to be an expert in a dying field? How do you know it’s over when you can’t let go?” Stokes asks. “Love is learned over time ‘til you’re an expert in a dying field.”

The rest is a capsule of The Beths’ most electrifying and exciting output, a sonic spectrum: “Your Side” is a forlorn and sincere love song, emotive; while “Silence is Golden,” with its propulsive drum line and stop-start staccato of a guitar line winding up and down, is one of the band’s sharpest and most driving. “When You Know You Know” skews a bit groovier, pure pop and a natural addition to the band’s live set. “Knees Deep” was written last minute, but yields one of the best guitar lines on Expert. There’s a certain chaos across the 12 tracks, the palpable joy of playing music with long-time friends colliding with the raw nerves of pain.

Stokes strings it all together through her singular songwriting lens, earnest and self-effacing, zeroing in on the granules of doubt and how they snowball. Did I do the wrong thing? Or did you? And are we still good people at the end of it? She isn’t interested in villains, but instead interested in just telling the story. That insecurity and thoughtfulness, translated into universality and understanding, has been the guiding light of The Beths’ output since 2016. In the face of pain, there’s no dwelling on internal anguish - instead, through The Beths’ music, our shortcomings are met with acceptance. And Expert In A Dying Field is the most tactile that tenderness has been.

2026 black vinyl, 2022 Abbey Road remaster, original 2012 artwork! When the mysterious masked collective calling themselves Goat first emerged in 2012, armed with an incendiary debut album 'World Music' - there was, and there still isn't, anyone else on earth quite like them. With their enticing mythology, music full of sinuous grooves and manic explosions of fuzz, Goat were outliers from the very beginning. 'World Music', received an avalanche of acclaim with critics, psych heads, outernational crate diggers etc, all left enraptured by its thunderous intensity, conjured from a singular mix of sounds from across the globe. 'World Music' is brimming with tracks now seen as 'classic' Goat live favourites. Tracks that have been wowing audiences all over the world; the afrobeat stomp of 'Disco Fever', the fuzz abuse of 'Goathead', the post-punk groove of 'Let it Bleed', the sing-along repetitive pop of 'Run to your Mama'... From the first note to the last, 'World Music' oozes with a sonic confidence rarely seen on a debut album. What Goat have is unique - they've managed to create a sound unrestrained by genre or any other boundaries. So if you haven't done so already, then it is now time you joined the Goat commune.