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Imagine a Latin remake of Back to the Future. The mad scientist is Arsenio Rodriguez (the godfather of salsa) and the young student who travels through time with him is Eblis Alvarez (Meridian Brothers). This album can only be described as the perfect soundtrack for that movie that never was.

After the massive buzz generated by his first solo album, Mentallogenic, Alex Figueira got back in the studio to work in a more collective fashion this time, carefully assembling the second album of his largest project to date, Conjunto Papa Upa; a team of 6 musicians, spanning 3 generations of some of the best talent in the Latin and avant-garde scenes.

In an era where tropical music is dominated by purely electronic and rhythmically uniform sounds, the ten songs encompassed in “Fruta Madura” (“Ripe Fruit”) wander through the most diverse tempos, rhythms, and motifs effortlessly. A real breath of fresh air that gracefully incorporates soul, funk, jazz, psychedelia, and electronics into a solid tropical, irresistibly polyrhythmic foundation, without ever succumbing to the many genre clichés.

The distinctive production and catchy songwriting of Figueira shine in a very distinctive light on this second full-length. Living up to his reputation (Miles Cleret, founder of Soundway Records, called him “one of the scene's truly authentic and eccentric producers”), he takes the opportunity to show he’s not afraid to keep walking his own path.

Taking the band for a wild ride through the traditions of Africa, America, and the Caribbean; contrasting them with a ridiculously wide plethora of vintage, contemporary, and futuristic sounds, and pivoting on the exuberant musicality displayed by his musicians; the result leaves no doubt: this album is destined to be considered a future classic of the exciting tropical psychedelic music of the 21st century.

Addressing the most diverse themes in this new collection of songs, things take on a much more mature tone, as the title clearly suggests.

The opening track “El segundo es más sabroso” (“The second one is tastier”) sets the tone in the most assertive way imaginable, with the band boldly declaring, through multiple metaphorical references (laid upon a crazy mix of Dominican merengue, Detroit techno, classic and free jazz, dub, and electro), that the bar will be set higher with this second album.

The remaining compositions touch upon the most diverse subjects, with a fair dose of humor, sarcasm, and postmodern “magic realism”. “El Algoritmo” (The Algorithm) is a parranda-cumbia hybrid (for lack of a specific term) about the omnipresence of technology in our lives. The sophisticated Latin soul of the titling track “Fruta Madura” makes a case for the beauty of the maturity process. Some key philosophical teachings of Marcus Aurelius (the role of causality, the impositions of “the logos” and the importance of self-control) get a twisted cumbia treatment on “Reos del Deseo” (Prisoners of Desire). “No le pongas Coca-Cola” (“Don’t put Coca Cola in it”) shows us the most satirical side of the band, accusing those who mix Coca Cola with Rum of committing "sacrilege", on a powerful base of Dem Bow (the grandfather of Reggaeton), intertwined with touches of soul, salsa, and Cuban comparsa.

"Háblame Claro" (“Talk to me clearly”) is a story of heartbreak that evokes in its first part the spirit of the erotic salsa of the 80s (a subgenre deeply despised by purists), and after an unexpected samba interlude, leads to the hardest salsa of the 70s (a subgenre adored by purists), to end up in the surprising form of pure Afro-Cuban ceremonial music.

“Tu mamá tenía razón” ("Your Mom Was Right") is an attempt to exalt the spirit of the Latin American soap opera in the key of “acid bachata”, to recount a real-life case, witnessed by the band on countless occasions: the partying woman who arrives at the show accompanied by her bitter husband, who obviously does not like to dance. A very cheeky song to talk about the very serious and pertinent topic of female empowerment.

“La misma vaina” (“The same thing”) with its indescribable blend of bantú, candomblé, and Mozambique rhythms with abstract synthesizers, is an ode to adventure in favor of the aversion to taking risks and seeking predictability.

“Amigas picadas” (“Salty friends”) is another humorous song recounting another real-life case witnessed by the band on countless occasions: a love encounter sabotaged by the girlfriend's friends, who all happen to fancy the same guy. A jazzy take on the ancient Dominican rhythm of pambiche (grandfather of merengue), with generous psychedelic touches, resembling the classy late 60s releases of Guadeloupe's legendary producer / label owner Henri Debs.

“Vinimos a hablar” (“We came to talk”) takes sarcasm to the highest level, to ridicule the absurdity (also experienced by the band firsthand) seen in live music venues where people pay a ticket to go and have conversations that could be carried out much better on any bar, where no band is playing. The music alternates between a delicate melody with loose, sparse percussion and a full-on, pumping Angolan semba, with a techno kick drum included; bringing things to an apotheotic grooving finale, where the peculiar swing of Venezuelan calypso from the Callao region is thrown on top of all the precedent elements; closing the album in the most uplifting, “end of the carnival parade” feel.

The artwork is a delicate and impactful oil painting by Colombian artist Kevin Simón Mancera, who has collaborated many times with the label before (“Maracas, tambourines and other hellish things” tape and the Lola’s Dice LP).

What the experts are saying:

“Alex (Figueira) dove into this work with a brutal cohesion between lyrics and synths. Timbre poetry, sound poetry (you name it). And that, superimposed on his always impeccable percussive base, confirms the title of “avant-garde visionary of our beautiful Latin music”".
EBLIS ALVAREZ (MERIDIAN BROTHERS)
“Papa Upa's infectious quirkiness is a balm against boredom. A mature album, but without an expiration date”.
GLADYS PALMERA

“Here there is a lot of strength, drum, cadence and psychedelia, lost dance rhythms, united in an intercontinental Latin/African/and Caribbean journey, a unique winning combination that we could consider the new “Ritmo Figueira”.
DISCODELIC

Conjunto Papa Upa are: 



Alex Figueira - Timbales, percussion, vocals. 

Gerardo Rosales - Congas, percussion, vocals. 

Ramón Mendeville - Bongos, percussion, vocals. 

Randy Winterdal - Bass.

Andrew Moreno - Guitar.

Nico Chientarolli - Organ, piano, synths.



All songs written by Alex Figueira. 

Arranged and performed by Conjunto Papa Upa. 

Recorded, produced, mixed and mastered by Alex Figueira at Heat Too Hot, Amsterdam.


In 1995, schoolmates Elin Almered and Johan Duncanson started a band which they named after a gas-station-turned-radio-repair-shop called "Radioavdelningen" (Swedish for The Radio Department). In 2001, the Radio Dept. sent recordings to music magazine Sonic, receiving a positive review and being featured on the free CD sampler that came with the magazine. Labrador Records heard them on the disc and signed them to their label. The band"s debut album Lesser Matters (2003) was well received by the music press, scoring 10 out of 10 in the NME. NME would rank Lesser Matters ninth on their list of the 50 best albums of 2004. The album received an 84/100 (Universal acclaim) on Metacritic from a total of five reviews.

After a world-conquering 2023, UK electronic duo Gorgon City continue their next chapter by announcing their fifth studio album ‘Reverie’, out 19th July, alongside the new single ‘All That You Need’ featuring Caroline Byrne, out 4th April


Following the release of lead single ‘Biggest Regret (with Bbyafricka)’ at the beginning of the year and the club-ready ‘You Know It’ last month, the anthemic ‘All That You Need’ is another sign of things to come from Gorgon City’s upcoming summer LP, with a filthy bassline, bouncing synth toplines and distorted vocal melodies that instantly ingrain themselves into your memory

The color green can represent many things. It can symbolize money, of course, but also weed. And envy. It implies newness, the rebirth of spring, but it can also evoke illness and infection. It’s an apt name for a band that is defined by its adaptability, by its knack for doing many different things all at once. On the Color Green’s second full-length—their first as a quartet—they ground their cosmic jams in earthy melodies, drawing from ‘60s SoCal folk-r0ck, ‘70s classic rock, ‘80s underground rock, ‘90s psychedelic dance-rock, and many other sources.

In the two years the band has been touring, it has already shared stages with a range of groups that reflect both the sophistication and the wild malleability of their sound, including Fuzz, Kikagaku Moyo, Circles Around the Sun, and Young Guv. “When we play live, I don’t really know what’s going to happen,” says guitarist Noah Kohll. “You really have no idea what you’re going to get with this band, which keeps things fresh for us and maybe makes the live experience special.”

Adds drummer Corey Rose, “One thing about this band that I really appreciate is that we can camouflage into any environment or any show. We can play with Hiss Golden Messenger and lean into that funky country vibe, or we can play with the Brian Jonestown Massacre and get evil. We all love a variety of music, so let’s not put ourselves in a box.”

That wild, mercurial quality is reflected on Fool’s Parade, a meditation on loss, grief, confusion, frustration, and the clarity to which they all lead. Their songs are vehicles for self-explorations, not just a means of putting their feelings into lyrics and notes but molding them, night after night, into different shapes to get different insights.

Veiga lands straight on the dancefloor, no ambiguity about it. Spurred by the guys from RS Produções, he's been honing his DJ skills since he was 17 (currently 23), initially with partner Nunocoox, who gave him even more motivation. Production came naturally sometime in 2020. We venture: maybe one of the good things coming out of the lockdown? Summer of '22, his debut at Musicbox (at the Príncipe monthly residency) is recorded as a festive, lively set, punctuated by the kind of crowd shouts only heard when things go really happy and sweaty. Since then, Veiga's name has been spotted regularly in the afro club scene, growing in reputation

This side of kuduro, "Leandro" is as expressive as it gets, with percussive forces pulling in deceitfully different directions, much in the same style as the slower form of tarraxo. But we can call this house, yeah? No niceties, however: little over 3 minutes and the track abruptly cuts into silence, exuding the raw power of something made for the mix, not in the least "for the people". In a similar pragmatic mode, the stabs in "Sem Nome" get the party started unannounced. Full mode, for the duration. Minimal groove, broken beats and emotive highlights. "Boiler Room" may be wishful thinking, an interpretation of what is required to rock the place or, ultimately, just a title to wrap up the project. In any case, here's a feisty vocal-and-whistle driven stormer, building up to perfection over three and a half minutes. All elements exactly where they belong. Relentless pace in "X de Destroi", a dark side operation, unreal ambiance, breakneck beats, a purgation?

The title "Tudo É No Guetto" contains all the necessary theory. Everything happens in the ghetto. This uplifting house slab celebrates life as it is, freezing hardships for a moment, the ghetto seen as welcoming, a natural place to be. Vocals stashed away in his cell phone come from the animação crew Os Twinni (he joined them for a while). Clipped, repeated and manipulated to convey the very simple feeling of good times. Veiga himself talks about growing up with minimum resources but still happy. That is the memory he retains from being a kid in the ghettos of Amadora, just outside of Lisbon, born to a Cape Verdean father and Portuguese mother. Though the music sounds carefree and the message is chilled, let us not be tempted to rebrand Reality.

"1996-97? Yeah, that’s when New York was still NEW YORK!

That was around the time we really started to get hold of exotic herbs. Copper Haze, hydroponic! The vibes in the studio were always lovely. I had hair at the time! Dread-Locs down to my shoulders... I was still rockin’ the Wallabees, or British Walkers as we called them - representing for Brooklyn and my West Indian roots!

There was no social media, no supervision, nobody all up in our business… It was classic "mind your own business" NYC Vibes! I was DJing at a lot of the hot clubs and THE hottest afterhours in the city. There were nights when I saw Micheal Douglas roll into the afters with Grace Jones - they were there to party and unwind and I was there dropping the dope tracks for the people.

When it was studio time, with my homie Matt Echols...I was probably setting things off with some quality herbage, a big ass bag of Funyuns and my trusty SP-1200, lol. I had picked up some tips and tricks from Todd Terry and by '96-'97 I was a Shaolin with it myself! This was around the time tracks like "Flowers" and "Only Love Can Break Your Heart (Dub)" were tearing up the clubs. I wanted to be able to get my ideas out with no problem, and by then I had a lot of confidence...

Being able to Dj in some of the hottest NY hot spots at the time, I was able to really see what worked and what didn't on the dancefloor. The best House Dancers from around the world and around the Tri-State area would be at my jams. I'm talking Ejoe, Voodoo Ray, maybe kids from the Mop-Top Crew... I was definitely taking note of the kind of rhythms and sounds that would make them go crazy on the dancefloor!

And that's how we went about it - I laid down the rhythms that made it happen in my sets and translated the vibes I was picking up from NYC itself. Matt threw down musically and we were just being as creative and inventive as possible! But we always kept in mind that our job was to make the people on the dancefloor jump!

A lot of the jams from those days got signed to various record labels, we dropped a lot of them on our own label...and some of them ended up in the archives - until now!"

- DJ Romain

"Early Twenties" ist das kommende Debüt-Studioalbum der britisch-jamaikanischen und nigerianischen Singer-Songwriterin Cat Burns. Das Album wird voraussichtlich am 12. Juli 2024 über Since 93 und RCA Records veröffentlicht.

"Early Twenties" ist das kommende Debüt-Studioalbum der britisch-jamaikanischen und nigerianischen Singer-Songwriterin Cat Burns. Das Album wird voraussichtlich am 12. Juli 2024 über Since 93 und RCA Records veröffentlicht.

With Pere Ubu on hiatus since 1982’s excellent ‘Song Of The Bailing Man’, David Thomas had recorded a` much-praised solo album and the band had now signed to a major label. In a period of rampant world commercialism, what would happen next? Another crucial era for the band unravelled, Pere Ubu’s journey charted new undulating territory and so began a three-album escapade that retooled our understanding of what pop music is. Things were further obscured with ‘Cloudland’ when they released “their industrial strength equivalent of a class Beach Boys album from musicians more familiar with factories than surf.” (Greg Kot, Chicago Sun Times).

Plasma Color Vinyl. 'The way Bloomsday's Iris James Garrison writes songs feels like somewhere between a mirror and a memory. Spacious, full-bodied folk songs, they are an ode to things that are good no matter how small; they sometimes feel like the ghost of a Mary Oliver poem. Bloomsday's new record, 'Heart of the Artichoke', is a relic of unfettered creativity and community. They recount the miracles of the mundane, the memories that become sacred, an ode to all that is holy: nightswimming, songs plucked from the ether, the ways friendship can endure. Like earlier Bloomsday songs, the work here is threaded with warmth; it's simmering, crisp and deeply human, an encapsulation of the present moment. Recorded across 10 days in June 2023 in upstate New York at duo Babehoven's studio and co-produced by Babehoven's Ryan Albert, with mixing by Henry Stoehr of Slow Pulp. The record was built out with a wideranging group of collaborators, including inventive drumming from Andrew Stevens (Lomelda, Hovvdy), Alex Harwood, Richard Orofino, Babehoven's Maya Bon, Hannah Pruzinsky (h.pruz, Sister.), and Chris Daley. It was an insulated and collaborative experience: all family dinners on the back porch, bonfires, feeling a full sense of joy, of friendship, of purity in the artistic self. Collaboration is an integral part of Bloomsday's musical process. Garrison is malleable in the studio, their songwriting generous and spacious. But in listening to the record, there's a sense that Garrison leaves room for the players, for the listener; for songs to find the shapes they're meant to take. Garrison's role as maestro is crucial, singular - it's a collaborative, exploratory spirit harnessed by Garrison's intuition, and by an honest commitment to carve out creative space for play, to delve into what's known - or pushing past that, into unknown. "The ghosts of the past still come up and haunt me," Garrison says, "but I sit in what I have and see it. All of these songs are about loved ones, about personal struggles with getting out of my head and being present." Heart of the Artichoke was written from a healed, matured place - written in a moment of safety from chaos. It's a prayer for the present, an appreciation of tenderness and what happens once we give ourselves the space to really see, and really feel - becoming free and whole - an ode to the way healing allows us to bloom.

'The way Bloomsday's Iris James Garrison writes songs feels like somewhere between a mirror and a memory. Spacious, full-bodied folk songs, they are an ode to things that are good no matter how small; they sometimes feel like the ghost of a Mary Oliver poem. Bloomsday's new record, 'Heart of the Artichoke', is a relic of unfettered creativity and community. They recount the miracles of the mundane, the memories that become sacred, an ode to all that is holy: nightswimming, songs plucked from the ether, the ways friendship can endure. Like earlier Bloomsday songs, the work here is threaded with warmth; it's simmering, crisp and deeply human, an encapsulation of the present moment. Recorded across 10 days in June 2023 in upstate New York at duo Babehoven's studio and co-produced by Babehoven's Ryan Albert, with mixing by Henry Stoehr of Slow Pulp. The record was built out with a wideranging group of collaborators, including inventive drumming from Andrew Stevens (Lomelda, Hovvdy), Alex Harwood, Richard Orofino, Babehoven's Maya Bon, Hannah Pruzinsky (h.pruz, Sister.), and Chris Daley. It was an insulated and collaborative experience: all family dinners on the back porch, bonfires, feeling a full sense of joy, of friendship, of purity in the artistic self. Collaboration is an integral part of Bloomsday's musical process. Garrison is malleable in the studio, their songwriting generous and spacious. But in listening to the record, there's a sense that Garrison leaves room for the players, for the listener; for songs to find the shapes they're meant to take. Garrison's role as maestro is crucial, singular - it's a collaborative, exploratory spirit harnessed by Garrison's intuition, and by an honest commitment to carve out creative space for play, to delve into what's known - or pushing past that, into unknown. "The ghosts of the past still come up and haunt me," Garrison says, "but I sit in what I have and see it. All of these songs are about loved ones, about personal struggles with getting out of my head and being present." Heart of the Artichoke was written from a healed, matured place - written in a moment of safety from chaos. It's a prayer for the present, an appreciation of tenderness and what happens once we give ourselves the space to really see, and really feel - becoming free and whole - an ode to the way healing allows us to bloom.

"It seemed that if I didn’t somehow repeat the process of greatness, and do so immediately, multiple times away to satisfy playlist and binge watch culture, then I “wasn’t shit”. After a while I was like “nah this doesn’t feel good,… I don’t know if I am finding joy in this”. I would record songs and not release them, obsess over sessions recorded in my home with 30 takes of vocals and wake up only to delete them. When it began to feel right I found solace in an epiphany that I was not obligated to operate at any other wavelength. I am moving on a different type of time, and that doesn’t expire." -Cavalier

For heads of a certain time period of NYC hip-hop, Brooklyn born, New Orleans-based rapper and songwriter, Cavalier was the one that got away. The outrageously talented artist whose name and reputation preceded him everywhere you went in the scene. The rapper who everyone knew was so dope that he had to blow, but who never seemed concerned with any of that. The pretty boy draped in Polo who stole every live show with a feather in his hair and a mouth full of gold fronts. The cat so dedicated to his own independence that even indie labels stopped trying to sign him and projects came when they came, but when they came they were undeniable.


Cavalier was THAT guy for a lot of us; a silver-tongued philosopher with an eye for the poignant details of black life and a delivery as effortless as a young Ken Griffey’s swing. All that said, it never really felt like Cav had that moment in the spotlight that we always assumed was coming. After chiseling away through headier cult corners of the NYC hip-hop scene Cavalier was recognized for his memorable co-pilot to Quelle Chris’ 2013 Mello Music debut, Niggas Is Men. The critically acclaimed LP helped propel Quelle Chris into the forefront of indie hip-hop (and also happened to be the first production credits for Messiah Muzik). Cav followed up with his first full length, Chief, which sports a notable Raekwon feature but also early work from producers like Ohbliv and Tall Black Guy. A relocation to New Orleans and partnership with producer/vocalist Iman Omari yielded two more projects: 2015’s Lemonade EP and Private Stock in 2018. Great records all; eagerly sought by collectors and signal boosted by influential media like OkayPlayer, Solange’s Saint Heron, and Pitchfork. Cavalier’s bonafides have never been in question, but his new album Different Type Time feels like a revelation—a sonic suspension bridge between his rich history and the artform’s future.

Different Type Time doesn’t sound like the future though, its vibrations are somewhere all their own. It sounds like jazz, like a conversation overheard in roti shop, or a pool hall, or the foyer of your old building on a fall day, front door propped open with a brick. The blues is in there too, and the south—the American South, and theGlobal South, and South Brooklyn. It’s not that it sounds like the past, but you can hear everything that came before in the thick of the basslines and the yearning of the keys. Different Type Time also doesn’t sound like now, it sounds like RIGHT NOW; the bounce of the lyrics like the staccato of basketball in the park, carried on a spring breeze.

Although he doesn’t rap on DTT, Quelle Chris plays a pivotal role; producing eight songs and serving as associate producer/consigliere to Cav throughout the creative process. “There is no time wasted in explaining things when I collaborate with Quelle. He understands the universe I am in and the realities I want to create. He’s in them. And I don’t think I can envision one without him,” Cavalier explains. Messiah Muzik, Wino Willy, Ohbliv, Ahwlee, Child Actor, Fushou and several other producers round out the credits, all lending their talents to the album’s spaciously soulful sound. At the center of all these alchemies is Cavalier, nimbly dancing in and out of pockets like a sidewalk game of jumprope. Different Type Time is a masterclass in this thing we call hip-hop; daring and original, yet always standing deeply rooted in the culture.

Compilation of (mainly instrumental) music from 1960-80s Estonian animated films. Comes with 8-page full-colour booklet in Estonian with texts by Andreas Trossek and Berk Vaher.
Musically all over the place, as you'd expect.

Note: The animated films of this LP can be watched online at kohilarecords.eu/ark

In the mid1970s, when Tallinnfilm animation studios recruited a youthful bunch of skilled artists and cartoonists, interesting things started to happen. Contemporary themes and ironic depictions of domestic life were introduced into Estonian animation – as well as pop-art aesthetics and even psychedelic imagery. Also, composers found their chance to exercise something beyond the routine standards of pop and academic music, to try their hand at the edges of orchestral sonic palette and electronic soundscapes.

Suddenly, pop art merged pop music, and electric guitars, Rhodes pianos and synthesizers were telling tales of a better future that still hasn’t fully arrived today.

Darning Woman is an intentional, beautiful, sometimes confrontational album that shreds expectations of DIY, bedroom music, and feminine themes. There's a lushness and maternal instinct at play, as Coope connects the dots between physicality, ephemera, and the ultrafeminine. "I don't really like to deal that much with themes of personal hardships, or heartache and love," says Anastasia Coope. "Ultimately, I work most honestly with the language of what is happening in a moment and the passage of time around it. That, coupled with my reaction to entering the artistic landscape, and my thoughts about what does and doesn't get representation, comprises most of this album." Darning Woman explores, among other things, the meditative aspect of sewing, patching and embellishment, care and repair, collection not as modern, craven consumption but as a counterpoint to materialism. This sort of collection - the good kind, the gathering of things to make a home - can be, in Coope's words, "A very baby way to critique capitalism. Birds make nests, right? It can be a new life for a thing that was made. What you surround yourself with matters." To that end, Anastasia Coope is also the founder and leader of the Bonzo collective and show series, an exciting new home for the type of expansive, profoundly creative scene that New York has been missing for some time. And while Bonzo may well be the ascent of a new community, Darning Woman is the story of Anastasia Coope, herself. It is the sound of Coope entering the world as an artist, acknowledging the tangle of what changes - the gaze of the world, Coope's art in reaction and community to art in general - and what does not: her ideas and her own self.

Darning Woman is an intentional, beautiful, sometimes confrontational album that shreds expectations of DIY, bedroom music, and feminine themes. There's a lushness and maternal instinct at play, as Coope connects the dots between physicality, ephemera, and the ultrafeminine. "I don't really like to deal that much with themes of personal hardships, or heartache and love," says Anastasia Coope. "Ultimately, I work most honestly with the language of what is happening in a moment and the passage of time around it. That, coupled with my reaction to entering the artistic landscape, and my thoughts about what does and doesn't get representation, comprises most of this album." Darning Woman explores, among other things, the meditative aspect of sewing, patching and embellishment, care and repair, collection not as modern, craven consumption but as a counterpoint to materialism. This sort of collection - the good kind, the gathering of things to make a home - can be, in Coope's words, "A very baby way to critique capitalism. Birds make nests, right? It can be a new life for a thing that was made. What you surround yourself with matters." To that end, Anastasia Coope is also the founder and leader of the Bonzo collective and show series, an exciting new home for the type of expansive, profoundly creative scene that New York has been missing for some time. And while Bonzo may well be the ascent of a new community, Darning Woman is the story of Anastasia Coope, herself. It is the sound of Coope entering the world as an artist, acknowledging the tangle of what changes - the gaze of the world, Coope's art in reaction and community to art in general - and what does not: her ideas and her own self.

The Telescopes Radio Sessions collects together the essence of three live session recordings in 3 different countries over a three year period between 2016-2019. This is the third in a series of radio session releases from Tapete Records that have so far included The Monochrome Set and Comet Gain. More session releases are being lined up for the rest of the year and beyond - enjoy the sonics and stay tuned. Over the years I have read a lot on people’s impressions of The Telescopes. Some folk think it’s a collective, others imagine it used to be a band and feel nostalgia towards what they consider to be the original line-up (even though many had come before, during and since) and some people refer to it as currently a solo career. In a way this is all true and none of it is. When faced with these kind of questions, along with questions about the style of music that The Telescopes make I often say The Telescopes house has many rooms, which explains things perfectly for me but for people on the outside looking in it only serves to increase their confusion. For me, confusion isn’t such a bad thing. Everything is born into confusion, the sense we try and make of that chaos is interesting and excites me. The universe often disorientates, it sends me a jumble of thoughts and impressions coupled with a feeling of something I need to express… if I could only decipher the encryption. This is how The Telescopes music comes to be and it is also how The Telescopes came to me. I regard The Telescopes as an entity of it’s own that introduced itself in my darkest hour and I was chosen as its vessel. From the second it arrived I was obsessed to the point where there was nothing else. A bit like having an imaginary friend. As the obsession grew it began to infect others, everybody loved my imaginary friend and wanted a piece of it. As its success grew however, so did the corruption, until one day the entity fell silent. The silence lasted for years, I tried everything to reconnect but it was having none of it. I had been a bad caretaker, I had let the house become infested and I had lost my way. This epiphany served to remind me of simpler times when anything felt possible with this entity by my side. It had trusted me with something so simplistically profound and I had let it down. The realisation of this was a eureka moment. I am not The Telescopes, I never was and never will be, I am the caretaker, the lighthouse keeper and if a job is worth doing it is worth doing well. With this dawning, I felt a crack open up in the cosmic egg and a familiar confusion in my head. The entity had returned. It was time to start untangling its tangled threads once more, to make sense of what it was saying, this time without corruption. It’s all about listening. I listen to what my cosmic friend sends me and channel this expression into what you hear through your speakers. It may take one person to achieve this, it may take more. There is no set line up or instrumentation that can hold The Telescopes. Whatever it takes to hit the zone, whatever is available, absolute focus is imperative. Sometimes it takes sabotage to keep that line of vision intact, there is no room for preconceptions or complacency in making the music. The Telescopes music is the now

incarnate and a state of total being is necessary to achieve. From the outside looking in... again, it’s all about listening. What comes through your speakers is the only thing that matters. The music either reaches you or it doesn’t. Everything else may seem interesting or confusing but ultimately it is corruption. So if you’ve bought the record, read the sleeve notes and bought a ticket to see a live show, don’t be surprised if the line-up is or isn’t the same as the recording. The only thing that is for sure is that The Telescopes as an entity is speaking to you in its own voice in every scenario.
Of course the difference between albums and live shows is that you can play the record over and over again to the point where you know every line and every note that was played. Whereas with live events you are left with an impression that can only be replayed in your mind. It can be frustrating at times. When you are touring with a great line-up and feel like something exciting is happening, you want everyone to hear it, not just the people at the shows but the people that couldn’t make it on the night as well. There is no guarantee that there will be the same line-up at a live show as there is on the album. This is why live sessions are important, they document a side of things that is often fleeting. Here we have three sessions, all different people transmitting The Telescopes sound on each. Some are regulars, some dip in and out and some were just passing through. In each case The Telescopes chose them as their vessel and as the lighthouse keeper I did everything I could to help them on that journey while trying to be a good caretaker to the house of many rooms. The Telescopes have been invited in for many sessions over the years, the first two were for John Peel on BBC Radio 1. We also recorded a session for Marc Riley and Mark Radcliffe before their
celebrity when they had a show on BBC Radio Manchester. We could have compiled this album from those sessions, it was certainly considered but Tapete and myself believe this selection gives an exciting glimpse into that fleeting side of The Telescopes in a constant state of flux that is left mostly to myth and imagination. For those who listen to the records but have never had the chance to take in the live experience, welcome to the other side. For those that follow us live, here’s a little reminder and a keepsake. Infinite suns. Stephen Lawrie February 2024.

10 Year Anniversary Gatefold 2LP 10 year anniversary gatefold 2LP edition of Cult of Luna's take on Fritz Lang's Metropolis film, Vertikal. "Somewhere Along The Highway" and "Eternal Kingdom" were inspired by the landscape of Västerbotten, the county we are from. We realised that there was only one way to go for us: to the city, into the future. Making a droney John Carpenter-esque album would be too easy and we've never been about taking the simple route. I was studying film at the time and had been floored by the aesthetic of German expressionism. This resonated perfectly with Erik Olofsson, who had just got into Italian futurism. This was a real challenge. We put in a lot of effort to realize our vision of the stale, artificial city in all aspects of what an album is. The way we played guitar (only down strokes), the production, artwork and band photos, everything was done with the vision as a guide. "Vertikal" is the album where we had the most precise vision of what we wanted to do and worked hardest to transform it from an idea into reality. A lot of things happened during the years between "Eternal Kingdom" and "Vertikal" and I could continue writing for ages but this will do for now. Ten years have passed since its release and what felt like a rebirth of the band, the band that is still ongoing with new goals and missions. It's a full circle kind of thing. At the time we had no label and now we are releasing it on our very own. Life is strange. Johannes Persson - Umeå December 2022

(Jam El Mar Remix) DJ Ghost and Robert Armani resurrect their hugely popular turn-of-the-millennium collaboration with the superb ‘Hit Hard Baby (WTF)



DJ Ghost and Robert Armani resurrect their hugely popular turn-of-the-millennium collaboration with the superb ‘Hit Hard Baby (WTF)’. A formidable duo when it comes to churning out mind bending techno and hard-edged grooves, these guys first got together in 2001 delivering the bouncy vibes of ‘Hard One’ followed by ‘Airport’ and ‘Funk That’, all of which got included on a raft of compilations and enjoyed by many around the world. Individually they are accomplished in their own right. Ghost is an iconic figure in Belgium and a stalwart within the Bonzai family. Robert Armani needs no introduction, ‘Circus Bells’, ‘Ambulance’, ‘Hit Hard’ anyone? Since the mid-eighties he’s been right up there with DJ greats, and in 1992 he started releasing his own brand of house, acid house and techno. Legend is an understatement when it comes to both these guys and we’re delighted to see them back at it in the studio once again.



The release opens with ‘Hit Hard Baby (WTF)’, introing with dark kick drums and raspy hi hats. Classic techno percussions weave intricate patterns as tension mounts, taking us to the break where hypnotic notes build alongside a snare roll to the drop and back to full-on dark mode for the duration. ‘The Underground’ is up next, combining sick techno grooves with massive rave stabs and murky acid lines. Powered by a solid drum arrangement that packs a punch, this one is destined for peak time greatness. The first of two versions of ‘H.O.H’ begins with the Original Mix. Keeping with darker tones of the release, this one goes straight for the jugular as chunky kicks and pulsating, mesmeric basses combine along with clangy percussions and a classic vocal hook that will destroy the dancefloor. Another legend joins us to round out the release with Jam El Mar stepping up for remix duties on ‘H.O.H’. Hailed as a pioneer of trance alongside the late great Mark Spoon, Jam El Mar remains a much-revered name on the scene and we know amazing things happen when he’s let loose in the studio. Ramping up the energy on this one Jame El Mar whips up a frenzy to get the crowd moving. Heavy hitting kicks with layers of rhythmic percussions get the toes tapping while gnarly techno basses and electrifying synths combine alongside that instantly recognisable vocal. A monster tune that is not to be missed.

In one sense, it’s easy for artists—songwriters, specifically—to express their feelings in their work. After all, that’s what the lyrics are for! But it’s much harder to convey emotional energy in how you play, slash at the guitar, and the structure of the music itself. That’s precisely why Girl and Girl’s Sub Pop debut, Call A Doctor, feels like such a vital, electrifying shock to the senses. Not since the early work of Car Seat Headrest or Conor Oberst’s widescreen emotional brutality as Bright Eyes has indie rock managed to come across as this intimate and grandiose, as the Australian quartet led by Kai James lay a lifetime’s worth of woes—mental health, the human race’s planned obsolescence if you’ve been living on this cursed rock you know what we’re getting at—across a canvas of indie rock that feels both timeless and in-the-moment.

An audacious and aggressively tuneful blast of a record, Call A Doctor is an unforgettable first bow from Girl and Girl, whose origins lie in James and guitarist Jayden Williams jamming in his mother’s garage in the afternoon after school. One afternoon, James’ Aunty Liss headed down to their practice space after walking her dog and asked if she could sit in on drums. “It sounded really great,” James recalls. “We begged her to stay, and she said, ‘I’ll stay until you find another drummer.’ We wore her down, and she eventually became a permanent member.”

After bassist Fraser Bell joined to round things out, Girl and Girl hit the road and began to make a name for themselves beyond the Australian bush, eventually signing to Sub Pop off the strength of word of mouth. Call A Doctor came together quickly soon after, largely recorded in marathon sessions in a two-story industrial complex over the course of two weeks. “That added to the intensity of the album,” James says about the frenzied creative process overseen by producer Burke Reid. “I can hear the stress in the record, which is good because that’s what it’s about—being tense, tied up, and in your own head.”

Call A Doctor’s eleven songs—spanning sweeping guitar epics and wry acoustic shuffles to spiky punk maneuvers and the type of raw, adoringly unvarnished indie-pop associated with legendary PacNW label K Records—are literally plucked from James’ personal history, as he reworked older recordings with newer lyrics reflecting his past struggles as well as new anxieties that emerged prior to the album’s recording. “I’ve struggled with mental health for a lot of my life,” he explains, “and I went through a particularly difficult patch when we were making the album; the band had started to get some attention, and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to live up to it.”

Far from the sound of collapsing under pressure, Call A Doctor finds James and Co. stepping up with their entire collective chest. This is a record that’s so out-and-out alive that you nearly feel like you’re in the same room with Girl and Girl as you listen to it; lead single “Hello” practically bursts through the speakers, amplified by Aunty Liss’ unbelievable stickhandling duties. “‘Hello’ is all about romanticizing your own misery. Letting those deep, dark, dirty thoughts take over. Understanding that even if you could pull yourself out, you wouldn’t because the constant stress and worry is far too familiar and comfortable.”

“Mother” pogos on a spiky groove that’s reminiscent of the geographically close New Zealanders who make up the legendary Flying Nun label, while “Oh Boy” draws from the Shins’ own jangly sound, injected with James’ wonderfully nervy vocals. Then there’s Call A Doctor’s sorta-centerpiece “Maple Jean and the Anthropocene,” a five-minute epic offering a new perspective on climate change and the notion of what it means, in a personal sense, to suffer: “I live in the bushland, and I was driving home one night and hit and killed a wallaby with my car,” James recalls while discussing the song’s lyrical inspiration. “My first thought was, ‘What is the universe trying to tell me?’ No remorse, no guilt, just total self-centeredness. Which was like, Woah, you fucking psychopath! This wallaby wasn’t put on this earth to send you a message. That’s what the song is about, our egocentric species - thinking you’re the main character and that everything that happens is somehow about you.”

“This record is about an individual who’s too far in their head, trying to get out,” James continues while discussing Call A Doctor’s overall outlook—specifically the snapshot it offers of its creator. But even though this record deals with uneasy topics we all know well from within ourselves, it’s important to emphasize how teeming with life Girl and Girl’s music is. There’s a brazen, bold sense of humor to this stuff, an undeniable brightness to the darkness that makes it impossible not to be drawn in as a listener. Feeling down never sounded so goddamn good.