Search:there’s a light

Silver Vinyl. Metalhorse is Billy Nomates' third studio release, following 2023's critically acclaimed, CACTI, and her self-titled 2020 debut. A concept album revolving around the image of a dilapidated funfair, representing the tumultuousness of life - risk and pleasure, danger and exhilaration. The 11 new songs here explore blues, folk and pianodriven arrangements that take Billy Nomates' stark punk sound in a more pastoral direction. Metalhorse is the first Billy Nomates album to be made in a studio and with a full band, the line-up inc. bass player Mandy Clarke (KT Tunstall, The Go! Team) and drummer Liam Chapman (Rozi Plain, BMX Bandits) plus a special feature from The Stranglers frontman Hugh Cornwell on "Dark Horse Friend". Metalhorse is a balancing of extremes. Reckoning with loss, material insecurity, and trying to stay true to yourself against an increasingly unpredictable backdrop of global chaos, the scales could easily have tipped towards darkness, but the more Maries has had to weather, the more precious those smaller moments of happiness have become. Metalhorse begs the listener to find their own funfair; there will always be things that feel perilous. At the same time, you have to marvel at the lights while they're still on. Dancing with those feelings of uncertainty and joy, Metalhorse is awash with both pain and perseverance.

Three LPs packed in a trifold jacket. Pressed on Deep Ocean Pearl, Gold & Dark Green Vinyl. Take up your sword, channel your magic or board your Mech. Chained Echoes is a 16-bit style RPG set in a fantasy world where dragons are as common as piloted mechanical suits. The game is set on the continent of Valandis during the time of a multi-generational war between three kingdoms, Taryn, Gravos and Escanya. After a great catastrophe caused by Grand Grimoire shakes the continent, the kingdoms agree to sign a peace treaty. One year later, an unknown force strives to begin a new war. A group of unlikely heroes joins forces and eventually becomes the clan of Crimson Wings in order to stop it. The outstanding soundtrack for Chained Echoes was passionately composed, arranged and recorded over four years by Eddie Marianukroh as well as many other musicians who worked under his direction. It includes 50 tracks at two hours in length. Even the game has been out for a while, Marianukroh's admiration and enthusiasm for the game and his addition to it remain undiminished: "It has been over two years now since the release of Chained Echoes, which is rather difficult for me to believe. Time really flies, and it's honestly a bit frightening when I think about it. But, despite that, when I listen to the music I've written for this game, I still very much remain proud of what I composed. I really did give my all for this soundtrack. I will forever be grateful to Matthias for trusting me with the music for his game. I can vividly remember how I felt when I first came across his project, and how I nervously reached out to him about the composer position. I truly, truly cannot thank him enough for giving me this memorable experience that I will always hold dear. Thank you, my friend."

With the reissue of ''Magic" the circle of the works originally published by Eyes Records and composed in the earliest 80s by Celso Valli is completed: Future State, Blue Gas and now precisely Five Sinners !!! Best Record thus creates ''the triplet'' of the Italo-Disco operas made by the immense musician from Bologna, who used various nicknames at that time - as the trend of the main Italian arrangers - feeling 'a certain shame' in making commercial pieces, songs that were danced in the discos. He hid under dozens of pseudonyms (Adal-Scandy, Azoto, Bulldog Lama, Sandon, Super Band....) ''Magic'' and ''Precious Lies'' kept hidden, almost buried for over 40 years (but with many followers abroad) now shine their own light! Indeed. To further enrich this latest vinyl production by Claudio Casalini there is - in addition to the successful artwork of graphic designer Nerina Fernandez - the new captivating version of ''Magic'' (timing 6'20'') skillfully remixed by the talented Italian-Australian DJ-producer Dave Mathmos. In short, a 12-inch reissue not to be missed for both collectors and club DJs.

Kindred spirits Passepartout Duo and Inoyama Land embody the essence of play - charting a new chapter and reinvigorating the environmental music and electronic landscape.

Passepartout Duo is formed of Nicoletta Favari (IT) and Christopher Salvito (IT/US), who since 2015 have been on a continuous journey travelling the world's corners, engaged in a creative process they term "slow music". Having been guests of many notable artist residencies and with live performances in cultural spaces and institutions, their evocative music escapes categorisation. With no fixed abode their musical pilgrimage brought them to Japan first in 2019, which prompted a deep connection to Kanky? Ongaku 'environmental music', a genre in which Inoyama Land is often associated with, soundtracking the duo's first immersive experience. In 2023 the duo revisited Japan and set out to reconnect in particular with the music of Inoyama Land, performed by Makoto Inoue and Yasushi Yamashita. The highly revered album 'Danzindan-Pojidon' (1983) produced by Haruomi Hosono amongst other well publicized and acclaimed reissues (Light in The Attic Records' Grammy-nominated compilation 'Kanky? Ongaku'), produced a global resurgence and admiration of the environmental music movement. Nicoletta took the lead to seek out Inoyama Land and in making contact successfully their intrigue and eagerness to meet was warmly reciprocated, and the group scheduled to meet in the form of a spontaneous improvisation session. "We're deeply concerned with what it means to be a duo, and what it means for people to connect through music."

Radio Yugawara is a unique one-off transmission from a specific place and point in time, unlikely to ever occur again. The respective duo's approach can really be described as "tuning in", a tuning into each other, to themselves, and to the surrounding nature of Yugawara. Like waves that travel off-world, sounds travel through the universe and can be lost forever if we don't seek them out. In finding a harmonic affinity within their instruments and a spiritual kinship in their interwoven performance, Radio Yugawara at its core is an interpretation of feeling, of close human interaction and the true essence of discovery.

"The album is both a transmission from a location, but also a tuning into the surroundings and to each other. Music in this kind of ephemeral moment is much less about active creation and more about discovering something which is already there in the air."

Following a trio of quick sell out, limited lathe cut 45 to kick off 2025, Feral Child now embark on a stash of more widely available full lengths (from the likes of Lake Ruth, The Jonny Halifax Invocation and Polypores amongst others). First up is a wonderful follow up to 2023’s “Refrains” 10” EP from Swedish band TAPE. “Refrains” figured in 2 or 3 notable UK stores’ end of year polls, noticeably Monorail in Glasgow where Stephen Pastel gave it a top 3 for 2023 nomination. “Preludes” is -if anything- even more majestic and acts as a superb follow up. The record is released 11th April on Feral Child as one time pressing 10” vinyl only release, featuring beautiful artwork once more from Peter Liversidge and the calligraphic hand of Klas Augustsson. The return of Swedish trio Tape has been reassuringly slow motion. They’ve always moved at their own pace, these three peripatetic musicians – brothers Andreas and Johan Berthling, and companion Tomas Hallonsten – though it’s been over a decade since their last full-length, 2014’s Casino. Not a disappearing act, rather a break for consideration, time to explore other avenues of creativity, perhaps… But their reappearance, with the Refrains 10”, was one of 2023’s most encouraging moments; doubly so, as it was proof they’d not lost their way, at all, in the intervening nine years. The Tape modus operandi is one of deceptive simplicity and artful innocence. On Preludes, a typically right, one-word Tape title, this means five wordless songs that move between fully fleshed out, lovingly tended folk threnodies – the beautiful opener, “Lights Out”, that spins webs via simple, hypnotically repeating guitar – and textural conceits that hover, appealingly, in a kind of no-place. “Naukluft Plateau” is lovingly dappled, with ruminative piano adrift on a cascading tonal waterfall. Then, feather-fall strums of guitar meet huffing harmonium and electronic scrum on the brief “Golden Gain”. Is there a more perfect song title for Tape than “Tangential Thoughts”? It sums up the way their music, nimble and dainty but also carefully tended, lends itself to the reverie, the meander, the anfractuous. The madeleine-like power of this song’s two-chord figure allows the music to take flight: rustling organ, oscillating cymbal, droplets of percussion, a spinney of sound. And Preludes slips away “On The Accordeon Bus”: there’s something lovely about the way that title collapses transit, articulation and bellows, reflected in the see-sawing sway and glitch-like rivulets of sound that course through the song. So, Preludes, then – alive to the moment, both gentle and sturdy. A copse of tone, and a most gorgeous wool-gathering.

Growing up is painful, brutal, and sometimes beautiful _ something Brooklyn-based indie-rock band Bedridden knows all too well. The band's name is even a nod to that ineffable period between childhood and the jagged edges of the real world. "When I was 21, I kind of lost my home," says frontman/guitarist Jack Riley. "I was couch-surfing. I was having a hard time.The next iteration in the band's maturation, then, is their debut, LP Moths Strapped To Eachother's Backs, 10 fuzzed-out (and sometimes gnarly) ruminations on dating, drugs, and survival out April 11 on Julia's War. The title came from a mysterious missive Riley received on astrology app Co-Star. "Last year I was way too reliant on other people _ my partner at the time, my friends," he says. "I was strapped to them in a weird way _ and flying in circles. This album is about that time."The current incarnation of Bedridden encompasses a patchwork of styles, influences, and friends Riley accumulated over the years. A Chicago native who first started making music at age five on a thrift-store guitar emblazoned with Kurt Cobain's name, Riley moved to New Orleans for college where he dabbled in punk before falling in love with shoegaze. There, he launched the first version of Bedridden. Sebastian Duzian (bass) _ a jazz musician and Pasadena native _ linked up with Riley in NOLA along with his bandmate, drummer Nick Pedroza. Pedroza, from Claremont, grew up on rock, metal, and jazz, honing his style after joining the band. Wesley Wolffe _ a guitarist fed on a steady diet of New Wave and `90s alt _ rounded out the crew just a few months back. Bedridden's previous lineup released their first EP, Amateur Heartthrob, in 2023 _ a noise-washed blend of shoegaze, DIY, and indie that Riley says is a "coming-of-age EP _ these formative stories about not having a bed, dating, being kind of a jackass. I was making fun of myself a lot." That release caught the attention of Douglas Dulgarian from Philly Label Julia's War (and TAGABOW), who signed them for Moths."Some of these songs have been around for years," says Riley, adding that they were recorded last February at Studio G Brooklyn; the album was produced by Aron Kobayashi Ritch (Momma). "As opposed to Amateur Heartthrob, we attempted to blend more clean guitars into a driving sound to capture more clarity _ one that also sounds live_ and raw," Riley says. That rawness thrums through the record, which kicks off with the thrashed "Gummy," about an incident when Riley had to gently fend off a co-worker's unwanted advances while both drunk and high on an MDMA gummy. And then there's mournful rager "Etch," which sees Riley daydreaming about beating up a meddler in his personal life _ in the minor key.The annihilating "Chainsaw" revs in next, a lightning-fast Lemonheads-inspired track that recalls Riley moving in with new roommates who were unnaturally obsessed with purchasing a lamp. "For some reason that pissed me off," he laughs; that rage is evident in the album cover, which shows said power tool demolishing a lampshade. Heavy-shredding "Heaven's Leg" showcases the band's affinity for `90s mainstays like Smashing Pumpkins while telling the tale of a gig at a local church. "The lyrics are about a pastor I had met that had lost his leg," Riley says. "The church had signs about not cussing and I had a feeling that neither of us had anything to talk about without potentially offending the other."The band's not afraid to get confrontational, though, on the anger-fueled, drum-heavy "Philadelphia, Get Me Through," which deals with a dead-end relationship and the mistaken assumption that getting drunk in the titular city would be a balm against the pain. And the nasty, brutist, and short hardcore-adjacent "MainStage"? "It's about being disrespected at a show on New Year's and how I lashed out," Riley says. "I then began to take it out on other people, which was a quality that I despise."Things get contemplative and mournful from here on out _ the emo-edged "Snare" is about bringing flowers to a hospital room where you're not welcome, while the Smiths-inspired "Uno" wrestles with self-loathing. "I guess the big finale of that song was my response to dealing with this recurring experience of feeling like I wasn't good enough by getting really into whippets," Riley says. Nu-metal bop "Bonehead," then, recalls an embarrassing dinner that turned into an argument _ the name applies both to that incident and the delicious simplicity of the guitar parts.After all that turmoil and pain, the band caps everything off with their eyes to the future on the jangle-pop "Ring Size." "All my friends are getting married _ do I follow in their footsteps? Or is it all a waste of time?" Riley says of the song. "At the end, through it all, I guess that's what I've been trying to figure out _ how to grow up, how to move on. I'm trying to navigate things as an adult and I'm not very good at it. But this is just the first record. This is just the beginning."And, hey, at least now he has a bed.

'Trá Pháidín are an Irish nine piece collective from Conamara, Galway, a wild coastal region of West Ireland where Gaeilge remains the first language. The group are currently lighting up Ireland's underground with their joyful noise, a unique and unpredictable blend of traditional Irish folk, post-rock, jazz, and Dadaist absurdity. The glorious album An 424 takes us on a psychogeographical journey along the 424 bus route which follows this remote stretch of coastline, introducing us to the landscapes and the characters who depend on the buses. Expect wild improvisational flights filled with brass, woodwinds, harp and fiddles alongside relentless grooves.

Here's what the band themselves have to say about the album:

Psychogeography is a funny aul term......the effect geography and landscape of a certain area has on the psychology, identity and nature of the local people...........I suppose

Notoriously, Conamara is famous place for psychogeoraphy due to the work of the great Tom Robinson. He walked every coastline in every area contemplating the geography, culture, history, Gaelic language, English language and folklore of the area while he was drawing it's best map with great depth and detail.

Right, so I've given context, a few buzzwords and some interesting names, now it's time for the absurd stuff....

"Bóthar Chois Fharraige" (the R336 and whatever anglicized name they call it) is well known by everyone in the South Conamara Gaeltacht (Gaeltacht is an area where Irish/Gaeilge is the dominant language, there aren't many because we were colonized by the British and our government doesn't care about its own language). The people of Conamara travel this road almost every day by car, by bike, on Peadar Óg's buses or of course, through the medium of the 424 (the bus service provided by Bus Éireann, Ireland's public-private bus company). From Bearna to Carna (maybe sometimes a detour in Casla going as far back as an Cheathrú Rua and/or Leitir Mealláin)

Every passenger is well versed of gorgeous views of the landscape that is on offer on this journey. Included are Cuan na Gaillimhe/Galway Bay, An Bhoirinn/the Burren, na hOileáin Árann/the Arann Islands,Aillte an Mhothair/the Cliffs of Moher, Portach Mhaigh Cuilinn/the bogs of Maigh Cuilinn, Bóthar Loch an Iolra/Eagle lake road, Cuan Casla/Casla Harbour, Cuan an Fhir Mhóir/Greatman's Bay, Cnoc Mordáin/Mordáin hill, Sléibhte Mhám Toirc/the Maamturk Mountains and Na Beanna Beola/the twelve pins. Passengers would also be well used the unique character of the bus. Depending on the day, you will get a unique perspective of the "complicated identity" of the Gaels as the bus travels from the Gaeltacht into anglophone Ireland, or maybe going the other way.

This is a topic you could write a PhD about (and maybe someone already has). But, if you are someone who grew up or lives in this region, you have a particular understanding at this stage of how complicated Gaelic psyche is and the kind of spectrum of identity along bóthar Choise Fharraige. With the landscape in mind, this bus journey is a great meditation of the various topics of life.

‘Bhfuil tionchar ag an mbus ar nádúr na ndaoine?
Nó an bhfuil tionchar ag na daoine ar nádúr an bhus?'

'Does the bus effect the nature of the people?
Or do the people affect the nature of the bus?'

Le gach dea-ghuí,
TP.

(translated from Gaeilge by Peadar-Tom Mercier)'

Conflict formed in 1981 in Eltham, Southeast London, when frontman Colin Jerwood, inspired by early encounters with the Pistols 'Spunk' bootleg and following The Clash on tour, struck up a friendship with Crass and set about crafting a whole new kind of punk that totally upped the ante in terms anger and confrontation. Crass, the renowned anarchist punk collective, having got Conflict started by releasing their debut single 'The House That Man Bult' in 1982 on Crass Records, ended in 1984 as they had always intended. Now it was up to Conflict to pick up the baton and run with it. And they did, charging into the battle lines of authority.

The years that followed saw Conflict go from strength to strength, peaking on the 18th of April in 1987 at the London Brixton Academy for the 'Gathering of the 5,000' concert. A climax and explosion of rage and rebellion that inevitably ended up in a police provoked full-scale riot with police injuries, arrests, and with the band hopelessly in debt and banned from the majority of major London and UK venues.

Undeterred, Conflict continued into the 90s with their acclaimed 'Conclusion' album and remained a mainstay of the live punk circuit throughout. However, after more than two decades since the release of their (2003) 'There's No Power Without Control' album, the band are back with 'This Much Remains'. Featuring sixteen brand new Conflict creations, the album sees the band keeping one eye on their eventful past, and the other firmly on moving forward, both musically and politically. Animal Rights are still at the forefront of Conflict’s collective minds, giving a voice to the voiceless on songs such as 'A Mother's Milk' and 'Shut The Fuck Up', whilst their anger at world governments will never dissipate.

Also featuring an appearance by the late Benjamin Zephaniah on the track 'Cut The Crap', 'This Much Remains' is the sound of a band that continues to surprise and progress, decades after it first began. Conflict are Colin Jerwood - vocals; Fiona Friel - vocals; Gav King - guitars, melodica & Hammond; Fran Fearon - bass; Stoo Meadows - drums. With Benjamin Zephaniah - vocals on 'Cut The Crap'; Mitsuko Sonoda - voice on 'The Impossible Soul'.

Remember: you could be dreaming. Sinking or flying, sound-catching or singing. Witnessing a distant storm in silence, how it exposes purple clouds in unpredictable flashes. Hearing a submarine eruption and finding natal comfort in the warm, fragrant smoke that only wants to sheathe all your edges. The circus has left, only placards remain. And the snow. Look how the flakes sway to your feet without effort - any distance is misleading, illusory. There’s only dream and memory – the two wings of a bird that flaps with an ocean wave, blinks with an eye of a lighthouse. Fragile, you could be dreaming not alone, holding hands with the core of things. The molten core, like touching ice. You could be dreaming. Dreaming in perfect memories of shapes imperfect. Dreaming of the earth raining from the sky, of the wind inside the sea, of the lighthouse & the ship kissing, of exotic fishes in the bay of your ear. Everything is real. If you play. If you dare to ignore the margins. Echoes go on forever. They play with themselves in a stream of mirrors. Echoes of a forgotten language, of a language unwritten - a soothing, indifferent creole that reconciles feeling with understanding. Bathe in the fountain at the source of resonance. Bathe in the clouds on the eyes of intimate strangers passing. Disappear. Disappear and be seen, like the moonlit mist behind your eyes. And sway between hope and wisdom.

All songs written, performed and produced by Sasha Vinogradova and Alina Anufrienko
Recorded in Garnet village, Dmitrovsky region, Russian Federation (February 2020)

Oi Va Voi verbinden Dance-Grooves, Singer/Songwriter-Sensibilitäten und kosmopolitische Rhythmen aus Osteuropa und Nahost. Trotz (oder gerade wegen) der zerrissenen Zeiten strahlt ihr neues Album "The Water's Edge" Optimismus aus und weckt Erinnerungen an ihr bahnbrechendes Debüt "Laughter Through Tears" (BBC World Music Award, NYT Top 10 Alben 2003). Oi Va Voi sind bekannt für prominente Kollaborationen wie mit KT Tunstall, Bridgette Amofah (Rudimental) oder der Violinistin Anna Phoebe. "The Water's Edge" wurde zum Teil von Mike Spencer (Rudimental, Tom Walker, Ellie Goulding) produziert und erscheint auf dem eigenen Label Parallel Skies. Es ignoriert Kategorisierungen zugunsten dauerhafter musikalischer und sozialer Werte und ist ein Ausdruck der Notwendigkeit, Spaltungen hinter sich zu lassen und eine gemeinsame Menschlichkeit zu finden.

Oi Va Voi fuse dance grooves, singer-songwriter sensitivity and a rock’n’roll sensibility with the group’s Jewish cultural heritage and a cosmopolitan rhythmic inspiration drawn from Eastern Europe, the Middle East and beyond. Despite the fractured times we are living in, a theme of optimism through pain is there throughout Oi Va Voi’s new album ‘The Waters Edge’.

We’re reminded of the title of the breakthrough first album, Laughter Through Tears. The Bacon & Quarmby-produced debut won a BBC World Music Award, was listed as a New York Times Top Ten Album Of The Year, and launched the career of a young KT Tunstall. The tradition of world-class musicianship continued with Bridgette Amofah (Rudimental) as the featured vocalist on Travelling the Face of The Globe, and noted violinist Anna Phoebe, who recorded and performed with the band for over a decade.

Every member evolves the Oi Va Voi sound; but through each change, the core themes and vision have remained constant. 2018’s album, Memory Drop, introduced the unique voice of Zohara Niddam, and it’s Zohara who returns here on The Water’s Edge, featuring on ‘Shine A Light’, ‘Lay Your Head’ and ‘Wave’. Also featuring across the new album is composer, violinist and singer Sarah Anderson, who co-wrote seven tracks on the album, with her emotionally poignant lyrics, evocative layered vocals and uplifting violin parts. Guitarist John Matts and Trumpeter David Orchant also return, with Orchant bringing deep colour and expression to the stirring waltz ‘Oceans’.

The album opener ‘Sad Dance’ was written after the devastating earthquake that struck Turkey and Syria in early 2023 impacting many of the band’s friends, fans and colleagues. Finding themselves in the studio the day after the tragedy, the band searched for ways to respond. Sarah’’s mournful, pulsating violins create an ever evolving soundscape on top of which her own vocal, and Steve’s earthy clarinet express sorrow and hope. Says Sarah - “It’s about human connection - a metaphorical hand held through trauma, and the preservation of ‘old worlds’ through relics, reminding us of where we came from”.

‘Shine a Light’ was also a chance to welcome back producer Mike Spencer (Rudimental, Tom Walker, Ellie Goulding), who produced their second album. Here his Pop experience can be felt in the hooky dance loop, which you can hear becoming one of Oi Va Voi’s trademark live encores. Along with the melodic pop sheen of ‘Lay Your Head’, this song shows the band in an uplifting mood, pointing at the years of high-energy tours which have become their signature. These tracks, and the poignant ‘Josephine’, offer a release - a more escapist mood and a sign of the hope underneath everything.

Oi Va Voi have never been easy to categorise, and they’ve made a point of ignoring genre in favour of more enduring musical and social values. The Water’s Edge is the first album to be released on the band’s own Parallel Skies label, which will sign artists from a diversity of cultures, nations and musics in the coming years. The album title refers to an old custom from the Jewish New Year of going down to the waterside - casting off the baggage of the past, and letting it wash away on the tide. As the first release on this label it’s an expression of the need to put divisions behind us, and find a shared humanity.

traverse is proud to announce the release of its first record - a compilation of six tracks from various artists, inspired by Pembroke King’s poem moving silhouettes, written for this occasion.

As the fourth volume of the compilation series “traversée”, moving silhouettes encourages artists to explore all corners of listening music and creative avenues that aren’t tied to any one convention.

Pembroke King’s poem sheds light on the mood of the compilation, and even though each artist brings its own interpretation of it, there is a beautiful harmony of it all - from Kate Miller’s atmospheric sounds to Teqmun’s drums-made-of-rain-drop-recordings or Ghjuliú’s nostalgic melodies, the listener travels around Pembroke’s words with each track.

As our first physical release, we feel honoured to collaborate with artists who have been involved in a way or another on traverse before such as Officium, Mika Oki and Alohn, but Kate Miller, Teqmun, and Ghjuliú, that we’ve been keeping close to our heart for a long time already.

Credits:
artwork: Gabriel Sauvageot
tracks produced and mixed by (in order of appearance): Alexis Tytelman, Tijmen Blokzijl, Alban Mercier and Yolek, Kate Miller, Ghjuliú, Mika Oki
mastered & cut: Marco Pellegrini at Analogcut
digital master: Umvral
distribution: Kuroneko

Listen to This.” As the original working title for Bitches Brew, the instruction and invitation remains to this day as the best way to approach a record that shattered conventions, altered music history, and, 55 years later, still sounds far ahead of its time. The template for jazz fusion, Bitches Brew is rightly ranked by virtually every significant outlet among the 100 greatest albums ever made. Sewn together with vibrant colors, voodoo textures, and ethereal moods, the 1970 landmark emerges with supreme detail and nonpareil feeling on Mobile Fidelity’s UltraDisc One-Step 180g 33RPM 2LP vinyl set.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Davis conceived Bitches Brew by having the musicians stand in a semi-circle. There, he pointed at them with vague directions for tempo, solos, and cues. The collective improvisation and interplay spawned a galaxy of melodies and grooves that were later spliced together by producer Ted Macero. Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and superb groove definition of this pressing, these distinct creations take shape with utmost realism. Compositions stretch across jet-black backgrounds and paint canvases laden with millions of colors and shades. Juxtaposed percussion, loose jams, and melodic segues explode with impressionistic verve.

Bitches Brew also boasts visionary artwork. By design, the lavish packaging and gorgeous presentation of the UD1S Bitches Brew set call attention to such matters. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. It is made for discerning listeners who desire to fully immerse themselves in everything surrounding the album, from the images to the tones. And this is one effort where every last detail matters.

Gathering a Hall of Fame-worthy lineup of musicians and tweaking it according to his desires, Davis follows through on his idea to “put together the greatest rock and roll band you ever heard.” Central to his proposition is the presence of two (and sometimes three) drummers and two bassists, a tactical move that makes rhythms a central focus. Akin to the futuristic album cover art, the drum-driven suites head toward distant universes and uncharted territories. At once hypnotizing and grooving, they chart maverick adventures via quixotic rock, funk, and R&B elements.

A without-a-net experiment involving interchangeable double-quintet lineups, Bitches Brew explores the previously unimaginable with electrified instruments — Fender Rhodes piano, processed trumpet, dissonant guitars, and bass among them — and an emphasis on feeling over composition. Mesmerizing and soothing, jarring and smooth, overt and subtle: The music seemingly covers an entire map of emotions and sensations, and like no record before, ties together the groundbreaking creativity of the multiple disciplines that were changing popular culture at the end of the 1960s and dawn of a new decade.

Conceptually, Davis described Bitches Brew as “a novel without words” and “an incredible journey of pain, joy, sorrow, hate, passion, and love.” The vast psychedelic expanses of warped echoes, liquid reverb, and tape loops confirm such ambitious contrasts of light and dark, fear and hope. Yet the most absolute characteristic of the watershed effort lies in how it resists definitive interpretation and encourages free thought — the very principles Davis used to conceive Bitches Brew.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab’s UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) technique bypasses generational losses inherent to the traditional three-step plating process by removing two steps: the production of father and mother plates, which are created to yield numerous stampers from each lacquer that is cut. For UD1S plating, stampers (also called “converts”) are made directly from the lacquers. Since each lacquer yields only one stamper, multiple lacquers need to be cut. Mobile Fidelity's UD1S process produces a final LP with the lowest-possible noise floor. The removal of two steps of the plating process also reveals musical details and dynamics that would otherwise be lost due to the standard multi-step process. With UD1S, every aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the best-sounding vinyl album available today.

Cititrax proudly presents the debut LP from Another Body Found here, which is the latest moniker of A// who is well known for his pioneering work as Le Syndicat Electronique. Emerging from the French underground with a dark electro, industrial, minimal synth and wave style, he has a stark and visceral take on raw energy and haunting atmospheres. There are plenty of mechanical, hypnotic beats here with heft bass and hints of dystopian fears. The title track reimagines Bronski Beat's 'Smalltown Boy' and strips it to its emotional core, 'Lost In The Northern Lights' has a cold, urgent sound and 'Murderous Earth' is brilliantly unsettling and melancholic.

Back in 2017, Field Of Dreams remixed the deep house masterpiece, 'La Nuit Des Tropiques' by Les Crocodiles. It became a firm favourite with the late, great Andrew Weatherall and his partner Sean Johnston at the ALFOS parties.

With only a few DJ's given a copy of the demo, it gathered momentum and was set to be huge. Unfortunately, due to a couple of abortive attempts to get it pressed, it was never released.
The FoD boys have now licensed their own remix and can now put it out there for all to enjoy on their own label.
Add to that an amazing Pete Herbert chuggy remix of their 'Pourquoi?' single which, again, never saw the light of day until recently, on digital, and we have a pretty special 12 already.

Al & Chris decided that wasn't enough. They thought their much loved deep house track, 'In Our House', needed a bit more love so gave it a slight re-edit/re-eq and brought a banging new track, 'Protect Yourself' into the fold. The result is a rather special 12 inch record with four completely different but equally strong tracks.

No fillers here.

(10x12" box set, limited to 1000 copies, with premium finishing, uniquely numbered, incl. 10 records in individually printed sleeves, a booklet detailing the club's history & exclusive stickers) Boccaccio has secured its place among legendary venueslike Paradise Garage in New York and The Hacçinda in Manchester. Its bold fusion of emerging electronic genres such as New Beat, Acid, House, and Techno was way ahead of its time, drawing music lovers and clubbers from across Belgium and beyond.



Belgian label Music Man Records presents Boccaccio Life 1987-1993, a new compilation offering a fresh perspective on the legacy of the iconic Belgian club Boccaccio - often associated with the short-lived New Beat movement. The 40-track compilation highlights the raw and futuristic early house and techno sounds that were heard in the pioneering club.

Located in rural Destelbergen (Belgium), just a stone's throw from Ghent, Boccaccio has secured its place among legendary venues like Paradise Garage in New York and The Hacçinda in Manchester. Its bold fusion of emerging electronic genres such as New Beat, Acid, House, and Techno was way ahead of its time, drawing music lovers and clubbers from across Belgium and beyond. Sundays at Boccaccio were unlike anywhere else-offering sounds you couldn't hear anywhere else.

Boccaccio Life 1987-1993 is carefully curated by resident DJ Olivier Pieters and club regular Stefaan Vandenberghe, standing as the ultimate testament to a club that was more than just a venue. For those who experienced it, it was a community - a way of life. Hence the club's full name: Boccaccio Life.

This compilation stands as a testament to an innovative time in electronic music, capturing the raw, futuristic sounds of early house and techno. It sheds light on another side of Boccaccio, one that goes far beyond the short-lived New Beat scene. A carefully curated selection of 40 tracks, resonating with those who were there by offering familiar classics, while also reaching a new generation-those who never experienced it firsthand.

With tracks from Blake Baxter, Virgo, Frankie Knuckles, Tyree, and A Guy Called Gerald, the unmistakable influence of black American pioneers is clear-the originators of the firstanalog house and techno sounds. On the other hand, UK sound innovators such as The Orb and LFO bring both sharp textures and rough breakbeats to the table.

Club staple tracks include dreamy excursions from Roger Sanchez under his Egotrip moniker, the relentless basement house of Circus Bells by Robert Armani on Dance Mania, an uplifting take on a hip-house cut from The D.O.C. (Portrait of A Masterpiece in the CJ Ed-Did-It Mix), a timeless remix of UK Formation's Age of Chance from 1994, and an alternate take on The Tape by Boccaccio club regular and Belgian producer Frank De Wulf, taken from his B-Sides project.

While not always the obvious hits, these tracks have gracefully withstood the test of time, and were exclusive to Sundays at Boccaccio. Now, they are finally available to experience together in one collection, offering a timeless snapshot of a unique era.

The Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam Woldemariam at the creative helm, provided the musical backbone for legends like Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, Mulatu Astatke, and Mahmoud Ahmed, including the iconic album Ere Mela Mela, shaping modern Ethiopian music as we know it today. This 1976 album (Ge’ez Year 1968) played a pivotal role in that legacy and has now resurfaced to set the record straight.

There’s a tendency to talk about the seventies as a golden age of Ethiopian music. There are good reasons for that, and just as good reasons against it. However, the notion of a golden past privileges the role of Western explorers and suggests that the pinnacle of Ethiopia’s musical culture is something only a foreigner can appreciate and unearth. It downplays the complexities of Ethiopia’s culture and history, creating an artificial divide between then and now. And it underestimates the constantly evolving sound that has followed.

The legendary musical outfit The Ibex Band, later metamorphosed into The Roha Band, has played a central role in defining the sound of many of the greatest stars on the music scene of Ethiopia from the mid-seventies onwards–but their golden output has never really waned. The story of the origins of the band that provided the musical backbone for greats such as Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, backing the solo career of group member Mahmoud Ahmed as well as backing Mulatu Astatke and many others has yet to be properly told.

Two misconceptions plague the image of Ethiopian music, one is that the music is pure because it is, by some notion, unexploited, the other is that it is all traditional. To begin with, a combination of political changes between the late sixties and the mid-nineties created an environment where only the most dedicated and skilled musicians struggled on and pursued a musical career against fierce odds. The whole Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam “Selamino” Seyoum Woldermarian at the creative helm, are arguably the origo of the vibrant scene in the mid-seventies, and the said pair are foremost responsible for not only navigating the band through troubled times, but also modernizing the 6/8 chickchicka rhythm to a contemporary form. Giovanni laid the rhythmic foundation with heavy looped basslines that reinvented traditional melodies as dance music, and with Selamino’s innovative guitar work they influenced scores of musicians from Abegaz Kibrework Shiota to Henock Temesgen. Even Giovanni’s Fender bass and Selamino’s Gibson guitar inspired younger musicians in their choice of instruments. Not only in choice of instruments but also in sound–even as the digital revolution hit Ethiopian music, a lot of popular music still took its cue from the masters from Ibex and Roha.

Ibex emerged out of the ashes of the sixties group the Soul Echos band, adding Giovanni and Selamino to their ranks and taking their cues from a slew of influences, such as Motown and The Beatles, fused with traditional music. A tighter-knit unit than most bands at the time – Ibex has remained six to seven members throughout their whole career, compared to many bands that were as large as fifteen or sixteen men strong when Ibex set out. Their playing has been viciously focused, economical yet heavy. Just a year before the recording sessions of the album in your hands, Giovanni and Selamino made a contribution to the popular musical lexicon of Ethiopia that was simply defining the popular sound: their arrangement and recording of bandmate Mahmoud Ahmed’s solo effort and real commercial breakthrough tune and eponymous album, Ere Mela Mela, from 1975.

Selamino has never limited himself to being an adroit lead guitarist, but has always been a scholar of history, and as such he has probably contributed as much to modern Ethiopian music with his guitar playing and compositions as with a deepened understanding of modern or contemporary – Zemenawi – Ethiopian music. Selamino’s contributions serve as a metaphor for those of the whole band, at one and the same time creating and defining a new, danceable and updated sound anchored in Giovanni’s bass, whilst also elevating the broader scene through their support for others on the scene and on top of that, increasing the understanding of the music.

There is an understandable desire to romanticize the musical heyday Ibex and Roha were at the forefront of, because so much of the output is sorrowfully hard to come by. Ibex creativity was nothing short of ridiculously fierce compared to many of their Western contemporaries. Based on their sheer recorded output alone they could have usurped the title “hardest working in show business” from James Brown, recording more than 250 albums or 2500 songs in the seventies and eighties. Some only surface as cassettes today, others were never given full LP release, and some are simply impossible to find today. In the light of that, it’s nothing short of a miracle that the recording Stereo Instrumental Music from 1976 (Ge’ez Year 1968) has resurfaced. Unearthed in perfect condition on a chrome cassette, this is musical history comes alive–to set the future straight. Stereo Instrumental Music was recorded in collaboration with Karl-Gustav Lundgren, a Swedish national working for the Radio Voice of the Gospel. It took two sessions at the Ras Hotel ballroom in Addis Ababa. The Ibex Band was the first band in Ethiopia to employ a four-track recorder for their recording (the first available in the country, lent by Karl-Gustav). Later the same week, Giovanni and Selamino realized that, lengthwise, the recorded material fell short of what they wished for, so they recorded four more tracks in one more session on a single-track recorder. The Ras Hotel and Ghion Hotel, where the Ibex Band held musical residencies were to Ethiopia in general and Addis Ababa in particular what Motown was to the USA and Detroit a few years earlier – a hotbed of musical creativity and showmanship.

The most astonishing thing about Ethiopian music of the last half century is how tradition and modernity are intertwined. Because of this feature, it’s kind of hard to tell when there ever was or when we are in a “golden age”. So much of music from the past has been criminally neglected, but because of the hardships in the past, it would be an oversimplification to say that said past was a golden age. Probably, the golden age is what we are approaching, because for the first time both the past and future are accessible, and the monumental contributions from before can lay a firm foundation for a thriving music scene today. The Ibex Band stands firmly in the past, present and the future. That, if anything, is golden.

The detailed history of Stereo Instrumental Music is in many ways unique. To begin with, it couldn’t have been recorded earlier (there were no four-track recorders available) and it really couldn’t have been recorded afterwards either, at least not in the years directly following, because of the toll the musical scene took from the unfavorable political climate that followed when the nascent Derg regime and rival groups tried to assert themselves, the musical equipment lent from The Voice of Gospel Radio simply disappeared from Ethiopia when the radio station folded in 1977. Karl-Gustav Lundgren,
the Swedish foreign national who assisted during the recording, worked with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus at the time, recalls how they only had about fifteen minutes to get the microphones in place for the recording as to not alert neither the management at Ras Hotel nor the authorities and most importantly, to complete the recording before the curfew came into effect at midnight. In leaping to the opportunity to use previously unavailable equipment to push their sound forward and improvising to meet the logistical challenges, the Ibex Band displayed the very avant-gardism and adaptability that explains their longevity as a band through the years. The recording of Stereo Instrumental Music is from a given time in history, but it sounds as beyond time.
Much of the energy that burst out of the scene that Stereo Instrumental Music came out of dissipated or got sidetracked during the societal changes Ethiopia went through in the 1970s and 80s. Whilst leaders might have professed to be revolutionary, the work ethic of the Ibex Band can truly be described as that. They never called it quits, but adapted, toured extensively abroad in Africa, Europe, and the Middle East, and found ways to work even in the face of the curfew that curtailed a lot of musical life. They even played major arenas in the nineteen eighties, despite said curfew and restrictions. The whole extent of their legacy has never been told, but their music speaks louder than words, so therefore… tune in to the Ibex Band’s Stereo Instrumental Music.

The signal mutates. Following the first installment, Parallax Effect PT.2 finds Versalife shifting gears, distilling his unmistakable rhythmic instincts into something even more elastic and unpredictable. Smeared low-end and restless sequences coil around a framework of percussive movement, flickering between restraint and momentum. There's an underlying tension--one moment held in suspense, the next unfolding into fluid motion. The machine logic remains intact, but with an organic pulse running through it, shaping each track in real time. A fitting counterweight to PT.1, this second chapter bends the perspective once more, closing the series with a sense of motion still lingering in the air.

Unreleased Miami boogie and deep soul from the vault of Teddy Studstill. Mixed and mastered from the original session tapes recorded in the early eighties. Terrestrial Funk ties back to their first release with this Miami magic. Teddy Studstill, an unsung hero of South Florida who played guitar on Lang Cook's 'She's Hot With 2,000 Watts' unearths these timeless tunes he wrote four decades ago. Accompanied by Miami legends Luke Jasmin on the keys and vocalist Harris Mazyck. We're grateful Teddy has brought these tracks to light and now the world can finally indulge in their delight. *comes with double sided insert poster*

There Is No Space For Us takes listeners on a cosmic odyssey, from the thunderous synth-laden opener ‘There Is Still Danger There’ to the eerie, expansive ‘Space Continues (Lifeform)’. Highlights include the shape-shifting, acoustic-driven ‘Co-Pilot’, the cinematic title track ‘There Is No Space For Us’, and the theremin-fuelled freak-out of ‘Neutron Stars’. The album culminates in the melancholic yet powerful ‘A Long Long Way From Home’, reflecting on the fragile nature of existence.Featuring Dave Brock, Richard Chadwick, Magnus Martin, Doug MacKinnon and Tim "Thighpaulsandra" Lewis, this release cements Hawkwind’s status as one of the most influential and enduring bands in rock. Side 1:1. There Is Still Danger There2. Space Continues (Lifeform)3. The Co-PilotSide 2:1. Changes (Burning Suns and Frozen Waste)2. There is No Space For Us3. The Outer Region Of The UniverseSide 3:1. Neutron Stars (Pulsating Light)2. A Long Long Way From HomeSide 4:1. Practical Ability2. Second Chance

In many ways this is The Monochrome Set"s él Records album. Definitely not a rock album, more eclectic, with influences spanning the 1920"s to the early 1960"s. On this Album Bid is crafting his skills as a songwriter: the minimalist "Cowboy Country" could be a Burt Bacharach song without the orchestra, "Sugarplum" a Hoagy Carmichael song but with a pop group, "Jacob"s Ladder" an early 1960"s twangtastic beat song. There is a tangible Latin influence throughout the album, even a little Flamenco, especially on the songs "Cargo" and "Don"t Touch", all with a feather light touch. The very sparse and light nature of the album probably worked against it commercially in an 80"s world of heavy drums, rock guitar and New Romantic synths. 40 years later the quality of the songwriting shines through.

This is the northeast calling, with songs of stillness, reflection, renewal, defiance, hope, classic melodies and, at certain perfectly judged moments, furniture-shifting riffs. With a powerful album shaped by pandemic-era loss (of momentum, and of a band member), and by the wins brought by what singer/songwriter/guitarist Adam Hope describes as a “weight lifted off my shoulders”. With a fresh, front-footed, fired-up approach that owes everything to a band returning to their roots in Wallsend and Newcastle – and, for the first time, making their music entirely on their own independent terms: self-produced and self-confident. “The Big Sad: an album born from the ashes of dark times but representing a beacon of light for the future. An album of honesty and purity, one that our current fanbase sonically may not be expecting. The sound of a band that got tired of slamming on the fuzz pedal to tick the ‘rock’ box and dares to try something new, dares to shock, dares to be great.

2LP in printed inner sleeves + 12 page booklet with detailed info, secrets and unpublished pictures written by Walter Verdin himself. This collection dives deep into Verdin's prolific and experimental music from 1980 to the beginning of this millennium, capturing an era of a DIY punk spirit, improvisation, creative freedom and swimming against the tide.



We are thrilled to announce the upcoming release of 'Pingpong', a 2LP compilation showcasing previously unreleased works by Walter Verdin, the founding member behind Pas De Deux, the Belgian band which delivered 80's cult classics 'Rendez-Vous' & 'Cardiocleptomanie'. This collection dives deep into Verdin's prolific and experimental music from 1980 to the beginning of this millennium, capturing an era of a DIY punk spirit, improvisation, creative freedom and swimming against the tide.

This album is not just a compilation-it's a sonic journey into Verdin's unique approach to music-making, which he nurtured in the AV studio at KU Leuven's Audiovisual Department (AVD). Having begun his civil service there in 1980, Verdin was exposed to a rich array of audio and video tools that would shape his work for years to come. From the outset, Verdin's process was defined by an openness to experimentation, where he would explore sound and music organically rather than following pre-existing concepts.

The songs on Pingpong reflect his fascination with creating spontaneous, layered compositions. These recordings were made using limited tools, such as his duophonic Yamaha CS-40M synthesizer, borrowed drum machines, and tape loops, and were further enriched by techniques such as reverb and vintage sound manipulation. The results are raw, tactile, and full of personality-often more vibrant and personal than the polished, commercial recordings that would follow in professional studios.

Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Verdin developed his craft, regularly drawing from his diverse interests in film history, soundtracks, video art, and avant-garde music. His innovative use of tape recorders, improvisational techniques, and later, MIDI and digital tools, makes for a fascinating and varied listening experience. This compilation includes everything from proto-techno and abstract new wave to avant-pop songs, sample-driven experiments, and the oddball TV-inspired tunes that have long been a staple of his work.

This selection is a true reflection of Verdin's "keen amateur" approach: a method focused on discovery, happy accidents, and unexpected results. These compositions aren't about achieving technical perfection, but about capturing moments of sonic exploration and transformation. The 21 recordings have been meticulously curated, with some tracks freshly arranged while others remain true to their original, unedited forms.

'Pingpong' finally brings these forgotten gems into the light. The album includes not only unreleased music but also fragments from Verdin's video art and multimedia projects, offering a rare glimpse into his creative evolution over two decades. Stretching up the boundaries between medium and message, aligning his own musical univers.

Take a deep breath and dive into the works of an artist whose explorations pushed his boundaries of sound and technology.

A Belgian sonic cut up, ping ponging in between many worlds.

SYML is the solo venture of artist Brian Fennell. Welsh for “simple”—he makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. Says Fennell about his album Nobody Lives Here, "We change, the world changes, and there is so much unknown. About a year ago I started writing songs that represent the change that is happening in front of my face, a group that have emerged to become the third SYML album. Many of these songs are about getting older, and the intimate, and sometimes frightening, passing of time. Some are about how getting older revolves around looking forward to things happening, and when they don’t happen, or they feel different than anticipated, we can be left with surprise and sadness. I’m actually reminded of this watching my 2 year old! We learn to live with disappointment. I recorded some of these songs with kids and dogs making noise in the background, and others in silent studios with musicians I’ve listened to and admired for many years. These songs are meant to be pieces of clothing to wear as you need (or I need). Some are bright and bold and others are gentle, but they were all made with a sense of comfort in mind, even when things feel bleak. My wife jokes that when our friends hear some of these songs, they might think we are not “ok”. Thankfully, putting myself inside a sad song is still a good place to feel happy. There's this generally unspoken feeling that musicians don’t listen to their own music. That isn’t true for me. I love living with my songs because their meaning changes as I change. There is as much fear and beauty in the big questions as there is wonder and possibility in the simple, everyday shit we live through.”

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

It’s always fun to let our audience peer through the party peephole with some hot behind-the-scenes info. For months, Black Light Smoke’s Control EP has supplied several of label head Tiga’s secret DJ weapons. In fact, he’s been sneaking out constantly after 9pm to play it out anywhere they’ll have him. And it’s little wonder to those who wonder why, as the Chicago-born producer’s top-flight mix of EBM, electro and Benadryl-soaked vocals has all the right people dancing.

Leadoff track "New York Is Dead” eulogizes the famous Big Apple Dance Party Scene in a way that will confuse the many who have embraced the city’s thriving “Groove With the Avengers” day rave series in Times Square. But the nihilism-liking doesn’t stop there, with the Friday-Til-I-Die attitude of “Black Hole at the Disco,” the pleather-dreaded post-cyberpunk of “Last Song Before Sunrise”, and the oxygen-deprived acid of “Break Your Back” culminating in the 11:45am-peak-time industrial trance of closer “Mind Control.”

Because we want this to be available to as many inhabitants of the blasted apocalyptic landscape we have pencilled in for 2034 or so, we have decided to make this release available both digitally and on vinyl. So whether you’ve managed to jack in illegally to a Spotify Wind Farm or you’re relegated to the hand-cranked misery of a Victrola while living in a barn or something, we’ve got you covered!

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

j.o.y.s. is both the moniker of and the debut self-titled LP by the Los Angeles based artist Ramon Narvaez. j.o.y.s. is an acronym for “jump out of your skin”. While the phrase can conjure moments of shock and surprise, Narvaez, however uses the phrase as a foot lamp illuminating a path towards momentary transcendence through creating beautifully conjured ambient music that recalls work by Daniel Lanois, suss, Dean Hurley and Tim Hecker. While the pedal steel is prominent, j.o.y.s., as a project, is more in conversation with shoegaze and noise than what has recently been deemed ambient country. Heavy brutalist slabs of noise, swirling feedback create the sound bed of these songs. Collaborator Justin Gaynor’s pedal steel on this album operates as important connective tissue as both the road and the traveler between the light and shadow zones. Drones are wrapped in distortion, processed just below the threshold where we’d throw the word “harsh” around. Rather, there is a delicate dance between Gaynor’s top-rope pedal steel lines - always sweet and always just a bit mournful - with Narvaez’s ringing bass notes and noise chatter. j.o.y.s. revels in intransigence. Nothing can last. As Matt Colquhoun puts in the introduction to Mark Fisher’s heartbreaking Ghosts of My Life - our identity and relationship to the past are “portals in perpetual collapse”. Depression, friendship, longing are all briefly satiated while in the peak experience of creating something as a response to them. But even that is impermanent. These sounds - improvised, exploratory, ecstatic - are eventually edited, whittled down and pressed to wax - not tombs but portals to the past.

*180g virgin leaded vinyl in a deluxe textured heavy gatefold cover, with paste-on artwork and special anti-static innersleeve.* Note: The pressing is absolute on point!!!!

Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon with a beautifully recorded suite of songs and instrumentals.

" More than two decades since he blew minds with a suite of brilliant releases on Warp, Vincent Gallo returns to the world of music at long last in Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon, with the project’s full-length debut, “The Music of Butterfly”. A gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, while interweaving fascinating flirtations with minimalism and experimentalism, it’s a truly captivating piece of work that’s hard to get off the turntable after the first needle drop.

In the arts, the lines between genius and madness, as well as fact and fiction, often blur. Such, it seems, has always been the life of the artist, filmmaker, actor, musician, and composer Vincent Gallo. A cult figure and a member of various creative undergrounds for the better part of half a century, Gallo has courted controversy, ruffled feathers, and made some of the most singular statements to flirt at the outer edges of popular culture that can be called to mind. Arguably most well known for his work in film, during the late '90s and early 2000s - notably with his soundtrack for “Buffalo 66” and a suite of releases on Warp - Gallo became something of a sensation in the world of independent music for a visionary, incredibly unique and sensitive approach to sonority. For a time, the world was abuzz, waiting on bated breath for more, and yet time passed. Bar a few fragments, appearing here and there, almost nothing has been heard from Gallo, within the world of music, for more than 20 years. That is, until now, with the release of “The Music of Butterfly”, the debut full-length of Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon: beautifully produced and issued by Family Friend Records - Gallo’s own label, founded in 1981 - in a deluxe edition that simply left us speechless: 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve. More or less picking up from where we last encountered him, spinning captivating melodies and gentle song-craft within the quieter temperaments of DIY, left-field pop, once again, and at long last, Vincent Gallo, encountered in an incredibly successful collaboration with Harper Simon as Butterfly, reminds us that he’s as much a force within the realm of music as he is within film. Not to be missed. This one isn’t going to sit around for long.

Vincent Gallo’s biography reads like the stuff of blaring beauty: a figure of moderate fame in his own right, who has remained at the centre of cultural ferment as the decades have rolled by. Born in 1961, in Buffalo, New York, as the story goes he ran away to New York City at the age of 16 and fell into the brewing counterculture of the Downtown scene, William Burroughs and John Giorno, in addition to the cream of his own peers, and began making paintings, music, and experimenting with film. In addition to being a member of the now legendary band Gray, with the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the filmmaker, Michael Holman, Gallo appeared in the cult 1981 film “Downtown 81”, before slowly beginning a career as an actor and catching the eye of Claire Denis, who brought his talents into the broader cultural gaze. Catapulted into the public by his own subsequent career as a filmmaker with “Buffalo '66” (1998) and “The Brown Bunny” (2003), both of which were marked by controversy and praise, Gallo further captivated the public with a partially brilliant, if not relatively brief, flurry of activity in the realms of music.

While Gallo had already been making music for roughly two decades at the time of his release of the “Brown Bunny” soundtrack, and the four release issued by Warp in rapid succession between 2001 and 2002 - “When”, “Honey Bunny”, “So Sad”, and “Recordings of Music for Film” - the almost fanatical fandom reached a fever pitch at the moment, allowing him, for some, to be regarded as much, if not more, as a musical artist than an actor and filmmaker. Anyway you cut it, in a few short years, he proved himself to be a polymath of rare talent. Somewhere along the way, while both were working as members of Yoko Ono's Plastic One Band, Gallo met the New York based, highly regarded singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Harper Simon, who also happens to be the son of Paul Simon. The pair fell into an incredibly fruitful duo collaboration, which came to be called Butterfly, and “The Music of Butterfly” being their debut full-length release.

Written, performed, and recorded by Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon in New York City between the winter of 2018 and the spring of 2019, the ten tracks comprising “The Music of Butterfly” are cumulatively a gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, making one feel like barely a moment had passed since we’d encountered his graceful hand at song-craft. Stripped back and raw, while retaining a sense of warmth and intimacy, across the length of “The Music of Butterfly” the duo of Gallo and Simon weave something completely captivating at the juncture of minimalism, experimentalism, and pop: meandering moments of texture and tone, slowly forming toward flirtations of melody that flower into song and back again. Somehow playful and light, while also remarkably emotive and personal, it’s almost as though each of these tracks crystallised out the air, unlabored and exactly as they should be without a note or beat more.

An engrossing immersion into both Gallo and Simon’s remarkably accomplished minds, having followed the path toward one another after radically different experiences and careers, “The Music of Butterfly” is one of those records that’ll be hard to get off the turntable after that first needle drop, and rarely leave the listening pile for some time to come. Issued by Family Friend Records in a beautiful deluxe edition that is unmatched even among the most stunning recent productions we can call to mind - 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve - it’s lovely to have Gallo back in the musical mix after so many years. "

Another foggy day in Yorkshire. A steel grey sky. Raindrops tracing one another down the windowpane. Kirk Barley sits in his studio and assembles compositions from scraps of found sound and live instrumentation. Melodies swell, withdraw and repeat like waves. Time slows. Accelerates. Slows again. The light bends, tweaked at the edges. Twisted by rhythms that never quite resolve.

Written, recorded and produced by Barley in Yorkshire in early 2024, Lux picks up where 2023 LP Marionette leaves off, conjuring a mystical, reflective space between formal minimalism and sonic imaginaries of northern landscapes.

And yet, where Marionette relied at times on more recognisable field recordings, Lux leans into Barley’s skill as an instrumentalist and sound designer, working from a palette of short samples and utilising a variety of alternate tuning systems to build, layer and coax his compositions into being. Most evident on tracks ‘Vita’, ‘Sprite’ and ‘Descendent’, these tunings create an otherworldly harmonic language that is easier to perceive than describe.

Alongside more familiar instruments of guitar, bass, drums, organ and clarinet, here Barley draws on plastic saxophones and bells, and recordings of glass, wood and metal sound objects to provide the organic matter. Rather than directly representative of the natural world, Lux enters into a dialogue with it which, like the grasses and flowers of the album’s cover, exists somewhere between reality and artifice.

On album opener ‘Cache’, Barley constructs his own sense of time from a recording of an umbrella crank, a sparse and spectral piece which hints at memories embedded in the track’s title. Introspection blossoms into new life on ‘Vita’, crumpling again into the percussive ambience of ‘Verre’. A track that takes its harmonic lead from the clinks of glass, it features Barley’s long-time collaborator Matt Davies on drums, whose nuanced, tonally sensitive playing gives ‘Verre’ a fizzing, ice-like quality.

There are several moments where Lux picks up on themes Barley explored under electronic moniker Church Andrews on recent works with Davies, stretching and distorting temporalities most explicitly on ‘Descendent’, whose ritualistic air unfurls around a pattern in exponential decline.

Embracing the surrealism Barley absorbed over years watching classic film noir and the works of David Lynch and Federico Fellini, Lux wends its way through the enchanted sound worlds of ‘Sprite’ and ‘Balanced’ before arriving at the album’s title track.

An expression of his recent experiments in live, prepared guitar, ‘Lux’ brings the album back to earth, returning us to the room where the rain has stopped, the clouds have parted, and the soft warmth of the spring sun is pouring in through the open window.

Marking the fourteenth chapter in the Swinging Flavors series, Beat Machine Records proudly unveils a gripping release by Helsinki-based producer DJ Sofa. Packed with deep, nostalgic energy, this installment delves into the darker side of drum and bass, with a sound inspired by the genre’s golden era of the late 90s and early 2000s.

DJ Sofa, known for their emotive and intricate productions, brings a raw, jungle-infused energy to the forefront. Drawing inspiration from jungle and breakbeat hardcore, their sound reflects a deep connection to the classic UK rave era while maintaining a forward-thinking edge. Known for captivating listeners with rich atmospheres and complex breakbeats, DJ Sofa’s music resonates strongly with audiences far beyond their Finnish roots, particularly within the UK underground scene.

“Drums For The Lost,” the lead track on Swinging Flavors #14, exemplifies this blend. A menacing roller, it marches forward with unwavering determination, offering a guiding light through shadowy soundscapes. With its haunting basslines, intricate percussion, and mysterious atmosphere, the track is a testament to DJ Sofa’s ability to create immersive and emotionally charged music.

The journey doesn’t stop there. Swinging Flavors #14 also features a remix of “Drums For The Lost” by Siu Mata. The Parisian producer reinterprets the track with their signature style, adding pulsating rhythms and hypnotic layers that elevate it to a peak-time dancefloor weapon. Siu Mata’s remix infuses the original with a modern edge, creating a vibrant and dynamic sound that bridges the gap between tradition and innovation.

Swinging Flavors #14 is available in both digital format and as a limited edition 7” vinyl, ensuring it finds its way into the hands of collectors and music lovers alike. DJ Sofa and Siu Mata’s contributions to the Swinging Flavors series underscore Beat Machine Records’ commitment to showcasing the best of underground electronic music. With its bold exploration of drum and bass and an eye on the future, this release is set to captivate audiences worldwide.

‘The Return of Pachyman’ is a supernatural force
from a brave new world that’s a little bit San Juan,
a little LA, and a whole lot of Channel One in
Kingston, Jamaica. Designed to be a resurrection
of sound systems from the past through which we
can celebrate a post-Trump future, the record
shows that blasting off into reggae’s deep space
has never gone out of style.
Pachy García (aka Pachyman) is perhaps best
known as the drummer / vocalist for the LA-based
band Prettiest Eyes, a unique pop-noise project
that reflects his other formative interest, synth
punk. He thinks of ‘The Return of Pachyman’ the
same way King Tubby might - an ‘X-ray’ of reggae
music, breaking it down to its bare bones.
Originally a guitarist, he moved to Los Angeles in
the early 2010s and developed his passion for
dub. From there, he started recording bass, drums
and piano and collecting recording equipment in
his basement studio, which he calls 333 House.
With ‘The Return of Pachyman’, García wants to
show how the Caribbean flow is transnational, a
vibe that resounds from Jamaica to San Juan to
Southern California. “With this project, I was
looking to make positive music and radiate good
energy; something to kinda disconnect from the
negative things that were happening at the
moment,” Garcia explains. “I am trying to make this
project a service for humanity in the sense that I
just wanted to shine a positive light.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'It begins with a shoebox of mysterious provenance, full of recordings from the Vendée department on France’s western seaboard: songs of love and war, life and death, played out on land and sea. Songs passed down and sung by ordinary men and women, gracefully delivered with the poetic economy which unites the folk song of all peoples.

Next it takes a group of contemporary musicians to make selections from this treasure trove and sing these old songs anew; to sing them for their beauty, of course, and to reclaim the people’s tradition from those who would seek to exploit it for nefarious political ends. Who better for this task than Tartine de Clous, a singing trio from Vendée’s neighbouring department of Charente-Maritime, who burst into national and international consciousness with their debut album "Sans Folklore" in 2015? The result of their shoebox rummagings, the new album "Compter les dents", recorded in 2019 and finally seeing the light of day, is bound to delight old fans and win them many new ones.

Time makes many’s the alteration, and "Compter les dents" finds 'les garçons' - Geoffroy Dudouit, Thomas Georget and Guillaume Maupin - in a different state of being from their debut release. The trio, friends since youth, have certainly matured between albums, as one would expect; consequently the newer performances are more considered and poised, unfolding with a patient confidence. A relaxed domesticity prevails, something to do with the fact that the album was entirely recorded chez les amis, in contrast to the first album, which was mostly recorded at live performances in bars and night-spots across France.

Lending gravitas to the grain of their voices we mark a deepened richness, doubtless born of the various vicissitudes of daily existence which these gentlemen - and we too as citizens of this turmoiled globe - have weathered in the intervening years. Not too dissimilar, in fact,
from some of the vicissitudes detailed in those old Vendée songs. Plus 'ça change', right?

There’s a greater complexity and subtlety to their unique three-part harmonising, too. Their voices mesh in even stronger - almost telepathic - 'fraternité' than ever before: now commanding and mighty as a full-rigged counter-vessel, now gentle and lulling as a mother’s
cradle-croon, or as the whisper in a lover’s ear.

Three legendary figures of French traditional music, now sadly departed, preside as tutelary spirits over Compter les dents. They are: the late Claude Flagel, musician and ethnomusicologist; and the late Jean-Loup Baly of the well-known 1970s band Mélusine. Most of the album was recorded by Claude in the Brussels home he shared with his late wife Lou Flagel. The album is dedicated to the memory of Jean-Loup, Claude and Lou.

For the first time there are several guest instrumentalists working their magic to expand the Tartine de Clous sound. Jean-Loup plays a characterful accordéon on the song ‘La Veuve'. The other guests are: Maurice Artus (voice), Robert Thébaut (violin), Quentin Manfroy (piccolo, contrabassoon), Marceau Portron (cigar box guitar). Their contributions add even more conviviality to that which the trio of singers already share, a sensation which will doubtless be shared by those who happen to find a place in their lives for "Compter les dents".'

Liner notes by Alasdair Roberts.

As a founding member of Dublin experimental folk group Lankum, Ian Lynch explores submerged leylines of music and song. Forging a musical path that is all at once dark, mysterious and foreboding, but ultimately transcendental. His new solo project One Leg One Eye sees him taking a fresh approach to musical arrangement culminating in a sound that is more rooted in the raw aesthetics of second wave black metal than contemporary folk. The project was born across 2021, a period in which Lynch was able to enjoy the freedom of experimenting and exploring different paths of sound design without expectation or pressure. Seeking out interesting settings to record music and gather field recordings, there are several environments, external and interior, whose respective essence have seeped into the spirit of the music and come to represent Lynch’s artistic approach and development with this singular debut album, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Rediscovered spaces in Dublin and the familiar enclave of his bedroom are intrinsic to the distinct and sometimes harrowing atmosphere conjured throughout the album’s five enveloping compositions. One particular location, an abandoned factory where his father worked when Ian was a child, provided a space of great inspiration and intrigue during this time. Lynch frequently visited the large abandoned warehouse and sang with his shruti box, contented in his solitude. ‘I’d Rather Be Tending My Sheep’, grew into existence from those initial sessions, eventually finding a home as an emotive centrepiece to the album. Reflecting on the overall recording of …And Take The Black Worm With Me, Lynch says, “Everything I was doing with these songs was all kind of new to me; experimenting with different sounds, textures and palettes and seeing what I could come up with by piecing it all together. I spent about a year making the album. I loved the whole process because it was basically just me in my bedroom recording everything. The experience of recording like this and having my own time to do it was amazing. I could focus on recording a specific element and happily spend all day working on that one part, doing it as many times as I wanted. At the end of the day if it didn’t feel right, I could just try it again the next day. When you’re on your own you can spend as much time as you want on particular parts until you feel that it’s absolutely perfect. I found that to be a really liberating experience. It was probably my favourite experience recording music.” The collection of songs (and their chronology) featured on …And Take The Black Worm With Me tell a story unique to Lynch’s experiences with anxiety and recognising his shadow self. Whilst the album became an outlet of personal expression for Lynch, the overarching themes and subsequent journey to confront one’s internal dichotomy of light and dark before accepting this inherent duality is universally shared. The eerie and often unsettling world contained within the album’s texturally dense opener ‘Glistening, She Emerges’, driven by the captivating drone of distorted uilleann pipes, immediately immerses the listener in this transportive work. It descends with a great heaviness, yet woven throughout the arrangement is a fascinating and indescribable entity that draws you further into this otherworldly dimension. This mood continues as the tracklist progresses and transitions into Lynch’s haunting realisation of ‘Bold and Undaunted Youth’ which further demonstrates a cinematic influence to Lynch’s compositional style. Sonically, Lynch effectively builds an impressively vast terrain with brilliantly murky lo-fi recording techniques and an unshakable curiosity to move beyond conventional structures and play with the timbre of the instruments available to him. From recording hurdy-gurdy or concertina to tape and experimenting with loops and effects pedals to stitching field recordings together, there’s an intimacy established between Lynch and his audience established through the simultaneously eerie and beautiful tones courting through …And Take The Black Worm With Me. This culminates in ‘Only the Diceys’, the extraordinary closing track in which we reach a place of resolution mapped into the album’s narrative structure. Mixed by longtime collaborator John ‘Spud’ Murphy in his Dublin-based Guerrilla Sounds Studio and mastered by Harvey Birrell …And Take The Black Worm With Me features contributions from Ruth Clinton (Landless) on church organ and vocals by Laurie Shanaman (Ails, Ludicra). Of Shanaman’s participation, in particular, which further illustrates the lo-fi and DIY ethos to the recording, Lynch says, “Laurie is my favourite black metal vocalist of all time and so I reached out to her hoping to have her involved in some way. She did, and she features on the opening track by providing some incredible screams. She recorded them into her phone and sent them over to me; what appears on the album is literally a phone recording of her screaming in her kitchen!” …And Take The Black Worm With Me continues Ian Lynch’s groundbreaking work with Lankum; recontextualising traditional forms and generating new spheres of music in his wake, confirming his status as one of the most interesting and innovative artists working in Ireland today.

Some record crates deserve a sub-category called 'play it again, Sam'. tracks that spin on the turntables without a push. Funk Kraut, Zombie Zombie's second LP on Born Bad, is of this kind. This well-proportioned classic is a fine example of the style the trio has been embodying: instrumental for synths and drums music played live. This time it was a quick affair, recorded by Laurent Deboisgisson in the studio of Cheveu's singer. A pretty straightforward job, and a far cry from their previous concept album. Let us praise Krikor Kouchian's mix: drums have been resampled with some restraint, and that Linn Drum kick lightens up the overall mix. It marks a notable evolution in the band's sound, and adds some dynamic. The album kicks off with 'No cruise control', a big bad sedan that effortlessly eats up the distance at 120 BPM. Kraut as can be, with a twist. And as far as funk goes, it's not Bootsy Collins, but there's a whiff. Space is structured by synth patterns, for optimized drumming : forward, straight and fluid, top-notch suspension (Cosmic Neman / Dr Scho?nberg take care of business on drums). They treat themselves to a diversion via Darmstadt to take some musique concrete on board : mechanical birds chirp, the odd atonal piano here and there. Nerds will appreciate liner notes detailing the equipment used : about twenty synths and they still describe it as minimal. With 'Densite?', we've just passed a polyphonic milestone: outright chords ! Long, suspended pads, pierced only by fat claps. Clapping hands are not far off. The band shows it has mastered concise pop formats. That same vibe can be found in 'Jungle the Jungle', paradoxical tune, catchy and moody at once. You'll get some brass riffs in 'Helix', which takes off on a synth moving from one speaker to another to herald the crash of syncopated drums to come.Zombie Zombie sounds ready to write themes for niche TV series.'Aurillac Accident' documents a haphazard soundcheck which, once in the studio, became a bitter ballad, breaking apart into dubby gravy. Live with two drummers performing, this aspect showcases in 'Snare Attack' and 'Double Z', with its jogging hi-hats and creepy little toy piano motifs. Cardio levels are high on 'Dodorian', perfect track for depraved spinning classes, with its moving filter, disco arpeggios and flashes of synthetic brass. 'Magnavox Odyssey', a nostalgic but bouncy synth lasagna, brings this album to a majestic close. The cover by Dddixie sets the tone with its 'Motorik Vibes & Stereo Grooves' sticker. Motorik, absolutely, it's autobahn time for 45 minutes. And when it comes to stereo grooving, the acoustic image is as wide as the canyons of Mars. DO NOT MISS THIS ALBUM (or the previous Vae Vobis)!

'001-015' is a "best of" compilation celebrating the first 15 sample packs made by Frollen Music Library. Launching in late 2021, the sample house has since been featured in productions by ScHoolboy Q, Leon Thomas, Devin Malik and more. This retrospective "best of" traverses a wide range of styles and moods to appeal to every music enthusiast as well as producers and songwriters alike. Whether it's bouncing Hip Hop beats or evocative cinematic etudes, FML's 3- piece house band, comprising Henry Jenkins, Darvid Thor and Hudson Whitlock have a deep love and respect for many musical styles. FML'sdiverse catalogue takes cues from the 'Third Stream' composer David Axelrod, as well as drawing upon cinematic themes from 60's and 70's Italian film score composers a la Ennio Morricone and Riz Ortolani. There are 90's New York boom bap beats, as well as synthesiser music inspired by Tonto, , utilising a locally made synthesiser from Melbourne Instruments. Jenkins, Thor and Whitlock have been playing in bands and producing music for their local music scene for the last 15 years. Recording and performing with The Cactus Channel, Karate Boogaloo, Mo'Ju, Surprise Chef and many many more. Not only is this brand-new LP a great musical collage worthy of any music library enthusiast, but also functions as a tremendous sampler demonstrating the many styles of FML. Fast, slow, sweet AND sour!

'001-015' is a "best of" compilation celebrating the first 15 sample packs made by Frollen Music Library. Launching in late 2021, the sample house has since been featured in productions by ScHoolboy Q, Leon Thomas, Devin Malik and more. This retrospective "best of" traverses a wide range of styles and moods to appeal to every music enthusiast as well as producers and songwriters alike. Whether it's bouncing Hip Hop beats or evocative cinematic etudes, FML's 3- piece house band, comprising Henry Jenkins, Darvid Thor and Hudson Whitlock have a deep love and respect for many musical styles. FML'sdiverse catalogue takes cues from the 'Third Stream' composer David Axelrod, as well as drawing upon cinematic themes from 60's and 70's Italian film score composers a la Ennio Morricone and Riz Ortolani. There are 90's New York boom bap beats, as well as synthesiser music inspired by Tonto, , utilising a locally made synthesiser from Melbourne Instruments. Jenkins, Thor and Whitlock have been playing in bands and producing music for their local music scene for the last 15 years. Recording and performing with The Cactus Channel, Karate Boogaloo, Mo'Ju, Surprise Chef and many many more. Not only is this brand-new LP a great musical collage worthy of any music library enthusiast, but also functions as a tremendous sampler demonstrating the many styles of FML. Fast, slow, sweet AND sour!